As the evening settled over the Rai mansion, Gavaskar pulled out his phone and dialed Advay's number. The boy had just returned from a long day—balancing business, correspondence college, and cricket had become his routine. Yet, no matter how busy he was, a call from Sunil Gavaskar was something he'd never ignore.
"Hello, sir?" Advay's voice came through, steady and composed, yet carrying the undertone of respect he always had for his mentor.
"Come to the lounge," Gavaskar said simply, his tone firm yet warm.
Advay wasted no time. He walked in a few minutes later, dressed in his usual training gear. His emerald-green eyes held a sharp glint, his wavy black hair slightly damp from his evening practice session. Despite his young age, he carried himself with the presence of a man beyond his years.
Arjun, still seated in his armchair, watched as his son entered. Gavaskar motioned for Advay to sit down.
"I have something important to tell you," Gavaskar began, looking straight into the boy's eyes.
Advay nodded attentively. "I'm listening."
Gavaskar took a deep breath, his expression serious. "This will be our last training session together."
The words hit Advay like a punch. His fingers curled slightly, his jaw tightening. "Last session?" he repeated, trying to process what he just heard.
Gavaskar smiled. "Don't look so shocked. You don't need me anymore."
Advay remained silent, waiting for him to explain.
"You've learned everything I can teach you. Your skills—both batting and bowling—have reached a level where you no longer need a personal coach. Now, it's time for you to step onto the real stage," Gavaskar said, his voice filled with pride.
Advay exhaled slowly. He had expected this day to come, but he hadn't thought it would be this soon.
"I see…" he muttered.
Gavaskar chuckled. "Oh, don't act like I'm abandoning you. You'll always have my guidance, but from here on out, your real progress will come from experience. You've been training in a controlled environment, but now, it's time for you to compete."
Advay's eyes sharpened. "Compete?"
"Yes," Gavaskar nodded. "I want you to participate in the trials for the Under-16 Cooch Behar Trophy as part of the Karnataka State Cricket Association."
Arjun raised an eyebrow. Even though he had complete faith in his son's abilities, the idea of him playing in a tournament filled with players three years older than him was still surprising.
Advay, however, didn't flinch. He leaned forward slightly. "You really think I'm ready?"
Gavaskar smirked. "I wouldn't be saying this if I didn't. You have the skill, the technique, and the temperament. If you make it to the team, you'll be facing some of the best young cricketers in the country. This will be your first true test."
Advay's lips curled into a small, confident smile. "Then I'll play."
Arjun chuckled from his seat. "Just like that? No hesitation?"
Advay turned to his father. "If Gavaskar sir thinks I'm ready, then that's all the assurance I need."
Gavaskar leaned back, satisfied. "That's the attitude I wanted to see. Trials are in two weeks. I'll make the necessary arrangements for your registration."
Advay nodded. "I'll be there."
Gavaskar studied the boy for a moment, then smiled. "This is where your real journey begins, Advay. Don't just play to compete. Play to dominate."
Advay's emerald eyes gleamed with determination. "I wouldn't have it any other way"
A few weeks later, the KSCA (Karnataka State Cricket Association) Academy was bustling with energy as young cricketers from across the state gathered for the Under-16 Cooch Behar Trophy trials. Boys aged 15 and 16 filled the grounds, stretching, chatting nervously, or shadow-practicing their shots and bowling actions. Among them stood Advay Rai, just 13 years old, yet blending in almost seamlessly.
Physically, he wasn't at a disadvantage—only a few centimeters shorter than most of the older boys. His athletic frame, sculpted from years of intense training, made him look just as capable as any of them. But his true edge wasn't in height or build; it was his sheer skill and confidence.
The coaches and selection panel, dressed in KSCA jackets and caps, gathered the boys and outlined the three-phase selection process: batting drills to test technique, shot selection, and temperament; bowling drills to evaluate accuracy, pace, and variation; and fielding drills to assess reflexes, throwing accuracy, and agility. Advay had listed himself as a batting all-rounder and preferred to play one-down—a crucial position that required both stability and aggression.
When his turn arrived for batting trials, he stepped up to the crease. The selectors had brought in U-19 academy pacers to bowl at the trialists—fast, aggressive, and experienced bowlers used to testing young talent. The first ball—a short-pitched delivery—came at him at over 125 km/h. Advay barely moved his feet, but his instincts kicked in. With a smooth motion, he swayed back and hooked the ball effortlessly to the boundary. The second ball was a good-length delivery, angling in. He got on the front foot and drove it straight back past the bowler with perfect timing. Shot after shot, he impressed. His technique was polished, his footwork quick, and his shot selection near-perfect. The coaches exchanged glances, whispering among themselves.
Next was bowling. Advay was up against some of the best young batters in Karnataka. He took the ball, adjusted his grip, and bowled an outswinger first-up, drawing an edge to the slip fielder. His next delivery was a sharp in-cutter that crashed into the stumps. His pace wasn't the fastest, but his accuracy and control over swing were exceptional. By the time his spell ended, the selectors were nodding in approval.
At the end of the trials, the players gathered, waiting anxiously as the selectors read out the names. One by one, those selected were called forward. And then—"Advay Rai." The moment he heard his name, a small smirk formed on his lips. He had expected it, yet hearing it out loud made it real. He was now officially a part of the Karnataka State Under-16 team.
The coach then stepped forward, his sharp eyes scanning the group of selected players. "Congratulations to all of you," he began. "You've made it into the Karnataka U-16 squad for the Cooch Behar Trophy. The tournament dates will be announced soon, but from tomorrow, November 24, 2013, we begin our preparations."
He cleared his throat before continuing. "Training sessions will be intense. Morning sessions start at 5:30 AM sharp—fitness drills, endurance training, and skill refinement. Evening sessions begin at 4:30 PM—net practice, match simulations, and strategic planning. No exceptions. Be on time, be committed."
The players exchanged glances, already feeling the weight of expectations settling on their shoulders. The coach then turned to a well-built, confident-looking boy standing among them. "This is Aryan Shekhawat. He's 15, an opening batsman, and will be your captain for the tournament." Aryan gave a nod, his expression determined yet composed.
With that, the coach looked around one last time. "Get some rest tonight. From tomorrow, we work." He then dismissed them, and the boys, now officially teammates, began to disperse, the reality of the challenge ahead sinking in.
The next day, the morning sun cast long shadows over the practice nets as the players geared up for another grueling training session. Advay, dressed in his crisp practice whites, stepped up to bowl, his focus razor-sharp. He had been waiting for this moment—his chance to prove his abilities as a genuine all-rounder.
With a steady breath, he marked his run-up, his emerald-green eyes locked onto the batter at the other end. The net bowler took his stance, gripping the bat tightly, preparing for what was to come. Advay took off, his strides long and measured, building momentum with each step. His arm whipped through, the ball searing through the air, thudding into the pitch before angling in sharply. The batter barely had time to react as the ball crashed into his front pad.
The speed gun flickered: 128 km/h.
The bowlers standing nearby exchanged glances. This was serious pace for a 13-year-old.
Advay turned back, grabbed the ball again, and ran in for another delivery. This time, he sent down a back-of-a-length ball at 130 km/h, skidding off the surface. The batter mistimed his shot, the ball taking the edge and flying toward the slip fielder.
On the sidelines, the coach stood with his arms crossed, observing every detail—Advay's action, his balance, the fluidity of his run-up. After watching a few more deliveries, he finally stepped forward as Advay finished his spell.
"Not bad, Advay," the coach remarked, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Your pace is excellent, and you've got natural aggression. But there's room for improvement."
Advay, wiping the sweat off his forehead, turned to listen carefully.
"Your run-up," the coach continued. "It's a bit inconsistent. You start off smooth, but right before you jump into your action, you slow down just a fraction. That slight hesitation is costing you extra speed. Keep your strides even and drive through the crease—don't hold back."
Advay nodded, absorbing every word. He had always been meticulous about refining his technique. If there was one thing he knew, it was that small details made all the difference at the highest level.
"Got it, Coach," he said, adjusting his grip on the ball.
"Good," the coach replied. "Now go back and try again. Let's see if you can push it further."
"Also, watch how you're releasing the ball," the coach added, taking the ball from Advay's hand and demonstrating. "Right now, you're letting go a fraction too early, which is causing you to lose some pace and precision. If you get this right, with your action and natural strength, you'll be consistently hitting 135-150 km/h in the next few years."
Advay's eyes gleamed at the thought. Bowling at such speeds was the hallmark of world-class pacers, and the idea that he could reach that level with proper training ignited a fresh determination within him. He nodded, absorbing every bit of advice. "I'll work on it, Coach."
"Good. I expect to see improvements soon," the coach said, offering him a slight smile before clapping him on the back.
With that, the session gradually wound down. The players gathered their gear and strolled toward the dressing area, tired but satisfied. As they packed up, Advay found himself next to the team captain, Rahul Deshmukh, a tall, confident batter who had already made a name for himself in the junior circuit.
"You really don't look like a fast bowler," Rahul teased, nudging Advay's arm. "why don't you have a scary expression while bowling?"
Advay smirked. "I let my bowling do the scaring."
Rahul chuckled. "Fair enough. But seriously, man, that was some good pace for someone your age. If you keep this up, the other teams won't know what hit them."
"That's the plan," Advay replied with a grin.
Their banter continued as the team headed off, spirits high. With each passing day, the tournament loomed closer, and Advay knew that soon, he'd get the chance to showcase everything he had trained for.
Three days later, on November 7, 2013, Advay stood in the nets, his bat steady in his grip, eyes locked on the bowler as the coach observed from the side. Over the years, under Gavaskar's meticulous guidance, his batting had evolved to an extraordinary level. His footwork was precise, his timing impeccable, and his shot selection versatile—blending classical strokes with an innovative, unorthodox approach.
The bowler ran in and sent down a short-pitched delivery aimed at his body. Advay instinctively rocked back, pivoted on his back foot, and unleashed a blistering pull shot, sending the ball scorching to the midwicket boundary.
The coach nodded but immediately called out, "Good shot, but control the follow-through. You don't need to swing through so hard if you've already timed it well. Let the ball do the work."
Advay acknowledged the advice with a slight nod, tightening his grip and focusing on the next delivery.
This time, the bowler pitched it on a good length, slightly outside off. Rather than a conventional drive, Advay took a quick step across and scooped it over fine leg, the bat flowing effortlessly in an arc, reminiscent of AB de Villiers himself.
The coach chuckled. "That's an insane shot for someone your age, but keep an eye on the bowler's wrist. If you mistime this against a slower one, you might end up offering a simple catch."
Advay absorbed the feedback, keeping his expression composed.
The next ball was a searing yorker aimed at his toes. Without hesitation, Advay opened the face of his bat at the last moment, steering the ball between point and third man for a precise boundary.
The coach whistled. "Great improvisation! But be careful against bowlers who swing it late. A mistimed open-face shot can go straight to slip."
Advay grinned slightly but remained focused. The bowler switched things up, delivering a slower bouncer. Recognizing it early, Advay arched back and ramped it over the keeper's head for a six, a shot that left even his teammates watching in awe.
The coach smirked. "Cheeky! But keep your balance in check. If you lean back too much, you might not get enough elevation, and the ball could go straight to the fielder."
After a few more balls, the coach signaled the end of the session. "That was some world-class batting, Advay. But let's see how you handle spin next. You won't get only pace in the tournament."
Advay nodded, stepping back to prepare as a leg-spinner walked into the nets.
[System Interface]
Name: Advay RaiHeight: 5'5" (165 cm)
Weight: 67 kg
Abilities:
Sleep Less Yet: For every hour of sleep, the body recovers as if it slept for two hours.
Templates:
AB de Villiers (Batting) – 95% 🔥
Dale Steyn (Bowling) – 76%
Talent:
Cricket – SSS
Business – EX
Shop: Unlocked
Popularity: Unlocked
System Coins: 7,000
The next session was about to begin, and Advay was more than ready.
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