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Author Thought
Hi,
I would truly appreciate it if you could share your thoughts and suggestions to help me further improve this chapter. Your feedback will be invaluable in letting me know whether the story's pacing feels right and in guiding its development
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The email arrived late at night, blinking in Nikhil's inbox like a beacon. Subject line: "Endorsement Opportunity – Spartan Sports India"
He stared at it for a long moment before opening it. The message was crisp, professional, and flattering.
"Dear Nikhil, We've been following your recent performances with great interest. Your composure, consistency, and rising popularity make you an ideal face for our youth cricket campaign. We'd like to offer you a starter endorsement—free gear, branded kits, and a modest stipend. Let us know if you're interested. Regards, Marketing Team, Spartan Sports India"
Nikhil leaned back, heart thudding. It was the kind of offer boys dreamed about—recognition, support, visibility. But something felt off.
He closed the laptop and walked outside. The night air was cool. The tea stall was shuttered. His father was asleep inside, wrapped in a thin blanket. Nikhil sat on the steps, staring at the stars.
He thought of Shera, the bat that had carried him through Chandpur's dusty fields. Of Veer, the bat that now bore his ambition. Of Rana ji, who had asked for runs, not rupees.
The next morning, he showed the email to Coach Devraj.
Devraj read it silently, then handed it back. "You're earning attention. That's good. But attention comes with strings."
"What do you mean?"
"They'll want you to smile for cameras, wear logos, maybe even skip matches for events. You'll become a product."
Nikhil frowned. "Isn't that part of the game now?"
"It is," Devraj said. "But you get to choose when you become that. Right now, you're still becoming a cricketer. Don't rush into becoming a brand."
Later that day, Nikhil met with Viraj at the academy. He showed him the email.
Viraj whistled. "Spartan? That's legit. I'd take it."
"You would?"
"Of course. Free gear, money, exposure. What's not to like?"
Nikhil nodded slowly. "But what if it changes how people see me?"
Viraj shrugged. "People already see you differently. You're the Chandpur kid who made it. You're a story now."
That evening, Nikhil visited Rana ji's shop. The old batmaker was sanding a handle, humming softly.
"I got an offer," Nikhil said.
Rana ji looked up. "To sell your name?"
"To endorse gear."
Rana ji smiled. "Gear is wood and rubber. Your name is soul. Be careful what you attach it to."
Nikhil nodded. "I don't want to lose myself."
"You won't," Rana ji said. "If you remember who you are."
That night, Nikhil sat with his notebook and wrote:
"Lesson: Not all offers are upgrades. Fix: Measure value beyond money. Goal: Build legacy, not just visibility. Reminder: My name is earned, not leased."
He drafted a reply to Spartan Sports:
"Thank you for your generous offer. I'm honored by your interest. At this stage, I'm focused on my development and performance. I hope we can reconnect in the future. Regards, Nikhil Srivastam"
He hit send.
The next morning, Coach Devraj clapped him on the shoulder. "You made the right call."
Viraj raised an eyebrow. "You turned it down?"
"I'm not ready to be a brand," Nikhil said. "I'm still becoming a player."
Viraj smiled. "Respect."
That afternoon, the team trained for their next fixture—a televised match against the Southern Strikers. The cameras would be there. The crowd would be loud. And Nikhil would walk in—not as a product, but as a cricketer with purpose.