The final day of trials dawned grey and humid. A thin mist hung over the district stadium, blurring the boundary ropes and muting the morning chatter. But inside Nikhil's chest, everything was sharp—his breath, his focus, his resolve.
He arrived early, as always. Veer was freshly gripped, his whites pressed, and his notebook tucked into his backpack like a talisman. Today wasn't just another match. It was judgment day.
Coach Devraj greeted him with a nod. "You've done everything right. Now forget everything and play."
Nikhil nodded. "I'm ready."
The selectors had planned a full match—25 overs per side, neutral umpires, and a scoring system that would finalize the district squad. The top eleven performers would be selected. The rest would go home.
Nikhil was placed in Team Red, batting at number three. Kabir was in Team Blue, captaining his side. Mr. Rajan stood near the scorer's table, clipboard in hand, expression unreadable.
The match began with Team Red fielding first. Nikhil was placed at point, alert and agile. Kabir opened the batting, aggressive from the start. He hit two boundaries in the first over, then began rotating strike, building momentum.
Nikhil watched closely—Kabir was playing smart, not flashy. He was adapting.
By the 15th over, Team Blue was 112 for 2. Kabir had 39 runs. Then came a moment of tension.
A miscommunication between batters led to a run-out chance. Nikhil sprinted in, scooped the ball, and threw—direct hit.
Kabir was out.
The field erupted. Kabir stared at Nikhil as he walked off, jaw clenched, eyes burning.
Team Blue finished at 168 for 6.
During the break, Devraj pulled Nikhil aside. "You've got one innings left. Make it count."
Nikhil padded up, adjusted his gloves, and walked to the crease. The pitch was slow. The bowlers were disciplined. The field was tight.
First ball: dot.
Second ball: single.
Third ball: short. Nikhil pulled—four.
Fourth ball: short gain. Nikhil scoped it for Six.
Fifth ball: dot
last ball of the over: single
He built his innings brick by brick—no risks, no ego. Just rhythm. Rafiq joined him at the crease, calling sharp singles, keeping the scoreboard ticking.
By the 20th over, Nikhil had 44 runs. Team Red needed 22 off 30 balls.
Then came the twist.
A sudden drizzle began. The pitch turned slippery. The ball skidded. Rafiq got out trying to sweep. The next batsman lasted two balls.
Pressure mounted.
Nikhil steadied himself. He played late, soft hands, finding gaps. But the rain intensified. The umpires halted play.
After a 20-minute delay, the match resumed. Revised target: 12 runs off 12 balls.
Nikhil took strike.
First ball: dot.
Second ball: full toss. He flicked—four.
Third ball: single.
Fourth ball: dot.
Fifth ball: two runs.
Sixth ball: dot.
Five off six.
Next over: single, dot, two, dot.
Two needed off two.
Nikhil faced the penultimate ball. The bowler ran in—short delivery. Nikhil pulled—straight to deep square leg.
The fielder dropped it.
Three runs.
Victory.
Team Red won. Nikhil remained unbeaten on 53 off 41 balls.
After the match, the selectors gathered. Mr. Rajan spoke quietly to his colleagues. Then he walked over to Nikhil.
"You're not the loudest. Not the strongest. But you finish games. That matters."
He handed Devraj the final list.
Nikhil's name was there.
District U-14 Squad: #7 – Nikhil Srivastam
That night, Nikhil returned home, soaked in sweat and rain. His father was awake, sipping warm water.
"I made the team," Nikhil said.
His father smiled. "Then you made history."
Nikhil opened his notebook and wrote:
"Lesson: Finish what you start.
Fix: Trust the process.
Goal: Play for the state.
Reminder: Rain tests roots. Mine held."
Tomorrow, the real journey would begin.