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Author Thought
One might wonder why the previous chapter was titled 'Cut Runs Deep.' The answer lies in the heart of the story—a do-or-die scenario where the main character's entire life hinged on a single outcome. Every ounce of his hard work and sacrifice would only truly matter if he succeeded. In that moment, selection was not just a goal; it was the thin line between triumph and heartbreak, proving his worth and the depth of his determination.
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The district jersey was heavier than Nikhil expected—not in weight, but in meaning. The deep blue fabric with white stripes across the shoulders, the embroidered emblem of the Uttar Pradesh Cricket Board, and the stitched number "7" on the back—it all felt surreal.
He stood in the locker room of the district stadium, surrounded by eleven other boys, each freshly selected, each carrying their own story. Some were from elite academies. Others from private schools. A few, like Nikhil, had clawed their way up from nowhere.
Coach Rameshwar Singh, a former Ranji player with a booming voice and a no-nonsense attitude, entered the room. "Welcome to the district squad," he said. "You're not here because you're talented. You're here because you proved it. Now prove it again."
Nikhil nodded silently. He wasn't intimidated. He was ready.
The first practice session was intense. The drills were faster, the expectations higher. Every mistake was called out. Every hesitation punished.
Nikhil was paired with Viraj, a stylish left-handed opener from Lucknow, known for his flair and footwork. Viraj was friendly but competitive. "You're the Chandpur kid, right?" he asked during warm-ups.
"Yeah," Nikhil replied.
"Heard you took down Kabir in trials."
"I just played my game."
Viraj grinned. "Let's see if your game holds up here."
The session began with batting drills. Nikhil faced district-level bowlers—taller, stronger, smarter. The pace was sharper. The spin more deceptive. But he adapted. He played late, watched the ball, and found his rhythm.
Coach Rameshwar watched closely. "Good hands," he said. "But you need to speak more. Communicate. You're too quiet."
Nikhil nodded. He wasn't used to talking on the field. In Chandpur, his bat did the talking.
Later, during a break, he sat alone under the shade of a neem tree, sipping water from a steel bottle. His phone buzzed. A message from Rafiq:
"Tea stall's doing okay. Your dad's asking about your jersey. Send a photo."
Nikhil smiled. He took a selfie—jersey on, bat in hand, eyes determined—and sent it.
Then he opened his notebook and wrote:
"Lesson: New level, new language. Fix: Speak the game. Goal: Earn respect, not just runs. Reminder: Roots matter. But wings do too."
The next day, the team was scheduled to play a friendly against the Kanpur Colts, a strong local side with several state-level players. Coach Rameshwar announced the playing XI. Nikhil was slotted at number five.
Viraj turned to him. "Middle order's tough. You'll face spin and pressure."
"I like pressure," Nikhil replied.
The match began. Kanpur batted first and posted a solid 178 in 30 overs. The pitch was slow, the outfield heavy. Chasing wouldn't be easy.
Viraj gave a strong start—28 off 20 balls. But the top order collapsed. By the 15th over, the score was 82 for 4. Nikhil walked in.
The field was tight. The bowlers chirped. The crowd was loud.
First ball: dot.
Second ball: single.
Third ball: short. Nikhil pulled—four.
He began building the innings, rotating strike, calming the nerves. His partner was Manav, a nervous all-rounder who kept fidgeting between deliveries.
"Breathe," Nikhil told him. "Play one ball at a time."
Manav nodded.
Together, they stitched a partnership. Nikhil anchored. Manav supported. By the 28th over, they needed 12 runs off 12 balls.
Nikhil took charge—two boundaries, one single.
Last ball: 2 runs needed.
The bowler ran in. Nikhil stepped out and lofted—over mid-off.
Victory.
He remained unbeaten on 51 off 39 balls.
Coach Rameshwar clapped once. "That's how you finish."
Viraj walked over. "You're quiet. But you speak loud when it matters."
Nikhil smiled. "I'm learning."
That night, he called his father.
"I played today," he said.
"You won?"
"We did."
His father chuckled. "Then you're doing it right."