The intra-squad match had changed the atmosphere around the team. While I wasn't yet fully integrated, the quiet acknowledgment from seniors and teammates was a step forward. Even Aditya's guarded confidence seemed to soften. However, Aman Chauhan's lingering hostility was a shadow that refused to fade.
The selectors' list of the final state squad for the upcoming regional tournament was pinned on the noticeboard two days after the match. I reached the ground early, nervous energy buzzing under my skin. As players milled around, I caught glimpses of reactions—grins, sighs, tense whispers.
I finally stepped closer.
There it was: Arjun Patel—batting all-rounder.
The team buzzed with discussions as everyone debated the lineup and player roles. Parthiv Nair remained captain, and Aman's place was never in doubt. Aditya was listed as vice-captain, and I noticed some envious glances cast in his direction.
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Preparations Begin
The tournament's first match was against a neighboring state known for its pace bowlers and aggressive batting lineup. Coach Verma doubled down on fitness and strategy sessions in the week leading up to the game. The nets were alive with fierce competition; everyone wanted to make an impression ahead of the match.
Batting alongside Aditya during one session, I was surprised when he leaned over between deliveries.
"Arjun, you've played Aman's bouncers well," he murmured, his voice low so no one else would hear. "Do the same in the match if you get a chance. He needs grounding sometimes."
I raised an eyebrow, unsure whether it was a genuine suggestion or a veiled attempt to stir trouble. Regardless, I filed it away for later.
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Game Day
The match was held at the state association's main stadium, a venue I had once dreamt of stepping onto during my first timeline. Walking onto the field now, with my spikes crunching against the fresh turf, felt surreal.
Parthiv won the toss and chose to field. Our bowlers put in a disciplined performance, with Aman and our other pacer sharing early wickets. By the 25th over, the opposing team was struggling at 123/4, but a middle-order surge saw them recover to post a target of 238.
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The Chase
We lost a wicket early, and I padded up, preparing to come in at four. When Parthiv fell to a mistimed pull at 34/2, my name was called.
The stadium, though sparsely populated, felt enormous as I walked to the crease. The opposing captain had placed a slip cordon, and their fastest bowler—a tall, wiry lad with a reputation for toe-crushing yorkers—stood at the top of his run-up.
I took guard, reminding myself to play for the era. No preemptive innovations, no reckless ramp shots. Just old-school, steady batting.
The first few overs were tense. The bowlers stuck to a tight line and length, the fielders buzzed around like sharks sensing blood, and runs were hard to come by. A flick off my pads finally broke the shackles, and I began to find gaps with more confidence.
At the other end, Aditya arrived and started to bat fluently. His timing was effortless, his shots crisp, and for the first time, I saw the player he might have become in another timeline.
Our partnership grew steadily, turning the tide of the chase. When the spinners came on, I rotated the strike frequently, using the sweep and an occasional lofted drive to unsettle their lengths. Aditya capitalized with boundaries, his timing immaculate.
At 186/4 in the 40th over, the pressure was back on the opposition. That's when the opposing captain brought back his lead pacer for one final burst.
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Testing Moments
The bowler's first ball was a fiery bouncer aimed directly at me. My instinct screamed for a pull, but I remembered Coach Verma's advice about playing smart. I ducked, letting it sail harmlessly past.
But the next delivery was a fuller one, wide of off stump. This time, I stepped out and launched it over extra cover, the ball soaring toward the boundary.
The crowd, small but vocal, erupted. Aditya clapped his bat, a smirk on his face. "About time," he muttered.
From there, it was a calculated finish. Aditya reached his fifty before perishing to a mistimed slog, and I guided the lower order home with an unbeaten 68. The winning run was a gentle drive through mid-off that brought the team to its feet.
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The Aftermath
The dressing room was a whirlwind of celebration. Parthiv clapped me on the back, praising my calm under pressure. Even Aman, though visibly sour, muttered a begrudging "good knock" as he walked past.
Later, while packing my kit, Coach Verma approached.
"Well done, Arjun," he said, his voice carrying a rare warmth. "You adapted well today. Keep this up, and you'll go far."
As I left the ground that evening, a sense of quiet satisfaction settled over me. This wasn't just about one match—it was a step toward cementing my place, proving I belonged, and setting the stage for the changes I wanted to make in this timeline.
The road ahead was still uncertain, but for the first time in years, it felt like I was heading in the right direction.