The morning session at Lucknow Cricket Academy began like any other—warm-ups, net rotations, tactical briefings. But beneath the routine, tension simmered. The final selection for the Uttar Pradesh U-16 squad was just days away. Every ball mattered. Every bruise counted.
Nikhil arrived early, as usual. His shoulder still ached from the bouncer in the last match, but he hadn't told anyone. Pain was part of the climb. He stretched, jogged, and shadow-batted with Veer, his movements precise but slower than usual.
Coach Rameshwar noticed. "You're stiff."
"I'm fine," Nikhil replied.
"Don't lie to me," the coach said, eyes narrowing.
"I can play."
Rameshwar didn't press further. But he watched closely.
The day's match simulation was against Team Thunder, a squad stacked with state hopefuls. Nikhil was again batting at number four. The pitch was green, the outfield fast, and the bowlers hungry.
He walked in at 38 for 2. The ball was swinging. The fielders chirped. The pressure was real.
First ball: short. Nikhil pulled—four.
Second ball: single.
Third ball: dot.
But something was off. His shoulder twinged with every shot. His timing was half a beat late. He adjusted, played within himself, and reached 22 off 19 balls.
Then came the moment.
A fast delivery angled into his body. Nikhil tried to fend it off—but his bat twisted, and the ball struck his left shoulder, hard.
He dropped his bat-Veer.
The physio rushed in. Nikhil winced, clutching his arm.
"It's swollen," the physio said. "You need rest."
"I can finish," Nikhil insisted.
Coach Rameshwar walked over. "You've already proven yourself. Don't ruin what's next."
Nikhil looked at Veer, then at the scoreboard.
He retired hurt.
Back in the pavilion, he iced his shoulder, watching the rest of the match unfold. His team lost narrowly. He didn't speak. He didn't move.
That evening, the academy doctor confirmed the diagnosis: Grade 1 shoulder strain. Not serious, but enough to sideline him for a week.
"You'll miss the final match," the doctor said.
Nikhil nodded. "Will I still be considered?"
"That's up to the selectors."
The news spread quickly. Arjun visited his room. "Tough break."
"I should've played through it," Nikhil said.
"No," Arjun replied. "You did the smart thing. You've already shown them who you are."
But Nikhil wasn't convinced.
That night, he sat outside his dormitory, notebook open, shoulder wrapped, heart heavy..
He wrote:
"Lesson: Even steel bends. Fix: Heal before you chase. Goal: Be fit for the long game. Reminder: Selection is a moment. Legacy is a journey."
The next morning, Coach Rameshwar handed him a sealed envelope.
Inside was the final squad list.
Nikhil scanned it.
#5 – Nikhil Srivastam
He exhaled.
"You earned it," Rameshwar said. "Not just with runs. With wisdom."
Nikhil nodded. "I'll be ready."
"You better be," the coach smiled. "The zonals are next. And they don't care where you're from. Only how you finish."