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The innings break was over. The floodlights were blazing at full intensity, turning the Vijay Khel Maidan into a cauldron of noise and light. The target of 184 was competitive on this green-tinged surface, but the real test was about to begin.
I led the Titans onto the field. The crowd rose as one, a sea of blue jerseys creating a wall of sound. "TITANS! TITANS!"
I tossed the new ball from hand to hand. It was hard, shiny, and ready to do damage. Kane Williamson and Priyam Garg walked out to open for Sunrisers. Kane looked calm, as always. Priyam, the young Indian batsman, looked determined to prove a point against the team that had just set a formidable total.
I gathered the huddle. "We don't defend," I said, looking at the faces around me—Rashid, Miller, Umran, Arshdeep. "We attack. The pitch has bounce. Use it. Umran, be ready for the third over."
Umran Malik nodded, swallowing hard. His eyes were wide.
I walked to the top of my mark. The crowd chanting my name. "Aarav! Aarav!"
Priyam Garg took the strike. He marked his guard. He looked at me, expecting the express pace. He knew I had clocked 150+ consistently. He was bracing himself for the thunderbolt.
I stood at the mark. I saw his stance—weight forward, bat high, ready to react to speed.
I started my run-up. The rhythmic clapping of the crowd synced with my stride. I accelerated. My arm speed was a blur. Everything screamed 'FAST'.
But at the point of release, I held the ball back in my palm. I rolled my fingers over it. The Knuckleball.
Ball 1: It came out floating. 112 kmph. It was a full toss, dipping late. Priyam Garg had already triggered his movement for a 145kmph delivery. His bat came down too early. He realized the deception mid-swing, trying to check his shot, but his body weight was already committed. He spooned it. He didn't even hit it; the ball hit the toe of the bat as he tried to adjust. It ricocheted back onto the stumps.
Clatter.
Priyam Garg b Aarav 0 (1)SRH: 0/1.
I didn't run. I just stood there, pumping my fist once, staring at the shattered stumps. The stadium exploded. A wicket on the very first ball of the chase. It was the second time this season I had struck on the opening delivery.
Ravi Shastri (Comms): "YOU CANNOT DO THAT! YOU CANNOT START LIKE THAT! First ball! Aarav Pathak has completely bamboozled Priyam Garg! He was waiting for the Ferrari, and he got the bicycle! The change of pace first up... that is the confidence of a man who owns the game right now!"
Ian Bishop (Comms): "It is cruel! It is absolutely cruel! The young man didn't stand a chance. He was beaten before the ball even pitched. The Captain strikes instantly! Sunrisers are rocked back before they can even breathe!"
Rahul Tripathi walked out at Number 3. He looked nervous, adjusting his pads, avoiding eye contact.
I finished the over with pace. 148 kmph. Defended. 151 kmph. Beaten. Tripathi managed a streaky four through slips, but the damage was done. SRH: 5/1.
Arshdeep Singh took the second over. The left-armer swung it. But Kane Williamson is a master of these conditions. He waited for the ball. He opened the face of the bat, guiding a length ball past gully for FOUR. Then he drove a full one through covers for FOUR. Class. Pure class.
10 runs off the over.SRH: 15/1.
I stood at mid-off. I looked at Umran Malik. The 22-year-old from Jammu was standing at fine leg, looking at the ball in his hand as if it were a grenade. He was shaking. This was his moment. Against his old team. In front of 60,000 people.
I jogged over to him. "Umran," I said. He looked up. His grip was too tight. His knuckles were white. "I... I am nervous, Aarav," he admitted, his voice trembling. "It's Kane... It's Tripathi..."
I put a hand on his shoulder. I squeezed hard. "Look at me," I commanded. He met my eyes. "Forget who is batting. Forget the crowd. It's just you, the ball, and the stumps. You are the second fastest bowler here. Believe in your pace. If they hit you, let them hit you. But you bowl fast. Okay?"
I pointed to the pitch. "Tear it up."
Umran took a deep breath. He nodded. "Yes, Captain."
Ball 1:Kane Williamson on strike. Umran marked his long run-up. He turned. He ran in. It wasn't a smooth run-up; it was an explosion of energy. He released the ball. 148.4 kmph. It skidded off the surface. Kane was hurried. He tapped it to cover. 1 Run.
I clapped from covers. "Great start, Umran! Heat! Pure heat!" The speed gun flashed on the big screen. The crowd cheered.
Ball 2:Rahul Tripathi on strike. He was vibrating. He was shuffling in his crease, trying to unsettle the bowler. Umran didn't care. He ran in harder. 152.1 kmph. He banged it in short. Aimed right at the helmet. Tripathi saw it late. He ducked frantically. The ball whizzed past his grille like a bullet. Tripathi stood up, looking shaken. He adjusted his helmet.
Sunil Gavaskar (Comms): "That is serious pace! 152 clicks! Umran Malik has arrived! Tripathi did well to get out of the way of that. That wasn't a bouncer; that was a threat."
Ball 3: Umran smiled. He felt the power. But confidence can be dangerous. He tried to bowl even faster. He lost his line. Wide outside off. Tripathi threw his bat at it. The pace took it to the boundary in a flash. FOUR.
I didn't say anything. I just showed him a calm hand. Focus.
Ball 4: Umran corrected. 149 kmph. Yorker length. Tripathi dug it out to mid-on for 1-RUN.
Ball 5:Kane Williamson took a single. Rahul Tripathi on strike.
Ball 6: Umran went back to his mark. He looked angry about the boundary. He ran in. He hit the crease hard. 152.8 kmph. He bowled a bouncer. But this one didn't rise over the head. It skidded. It rushed onto the batsman. Tripathi tried to pull. He was hopelessly late. He tried to sway. He was late.
THUD.
The ball smashed into his right shoulder/collarbone area. The sound of impact was sickening. Tripathi dropped his bat immediately. He clutched his shoulder, grimacing in pain. He went down to his knees.
The stadium went silent.
I ran from covers. The physio sprinted onto the field. "Ice! Get ice!" I shouted.
Umran stood there, looking concerned but also realizing the power he held. Tripathi tried to move his arm. He couldn't. The impact at that speed had likely caused deep bruising or worse.
He shook his head. He couldn't continue. Retired Hurt.
Ian Bishop (Comms): "That is the danger of genuine pace. 152 kilometers per hour into the body. Rahul Tripathi is a tough player, but he cannot continue. Umran Malik has literally knocked him out of the attack. This is intimidation at its rawest."
Matthew Hayden (Comms): "The young man from Jammu has sent a message. 'I am here, and I am fast.' Sunrisers are losing soldiers. First Garg, now Tripathi."
Aiden Markram walked out to replace the injured man. He looked at Umran, then at the pitch. He knew what was coming.
I walked up to Umran. I didn't high-five him. I just patted his back. "That's it," I whispered. "That's the fear. Now channel it."
SRH: 22/1 (2.5 Overs). (Effectively 2 wickets down).
The Jammu Express had left the station, and it was carrying heavy cargo.
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SRH: 117/3.Target: 184.Equation: 67 runs needed off 42 balls.
The middle overs had been a tug of war. Rashid Khan had been economical, and Umran even got Kane and Arsh got Aiden Markram too, but Nicholas Pooran and Shashank Singh were finding the boundary just enough to keep the required rate manageable.
The crowd at Vijay Khel Maidan was nervous. 67 off 42 is a standard T20 equation. With Pooran set on 35* and the dew settling in, the game was tilting towards Orange.
I walked to the edge of the pitch. Ashish Nehra signaled from the dugout. Two fingers. Plan B.
I called Josh Hazlewood. The big Australian walked over, wiping sweat from his brow. "Josh," I said, looking at the scoreboard. "Lets start the game of Yorkers."
"Yorkers?" Josh asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yorkers," I said. "Nothing else. No slow balls. No bouncers. Just base of the stumps. You and me. Seven overs straight."
Josh nodded. A cold, professional nod. "Let's lock it down."
Over 14: Josh Hazlewood.Nicholas Pooran on strike. He was looking to launch.
Ball 1: Hazlewood ran in. High arm action. He didn't look for the swing. He aimed for the white line. Perfect yorker on off stump. Pooran jammed it out. Dot.
Ball 2: Same line. Same length. Pooran squeezed it to deep cover. 1 Run.
Ball 3: Shashank Singh on strike. Hazlewood went wide of the crease. Angling in. Yorker on middle. Shashank dug it out to long-on. 1 Run.
It was relentless. Ball after ball. No room to free the arms. No width to cut. Over Summary: 0, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1. Total: 5 Runs.
Ravi Shastri (Comms): "That is clinical! Josh Hazlewood has put the handbrake on! Five pinpoint yorkers in an over. Nicholas Pooran is shaking his head. He can't get under it. The required rate jumps up."
Equation: 62 needed off 36.Over 15: Aarav Pathak.
I marked my run-up. The crowd sensed the shift in intensity. They started chanting. "Aarav! Aarav!"
I looked at Shashank Singh.
Ball 1: I steamed in. 152.4 kmph. The ball was a blur. It dipped late into the blockhole. Shashank backed away, trying to slice. He missed. The ball missed the off stump by a millimeter. Dot.
Ball 2:151.8 kmph. Toe-crusher. Shashank hopped. He managed to get bat on it. Inside edge onto pads. 1 Run.
Ball 3: Pooran on strike. The danger man. I didn't slow down. 153.0 kmph. Wide yorker. Pooran threw his hands at it. He connected, but only to deep point. 1 Run.
Over Summary: 0, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1. Total: 5 Runs.
Ian Bishop (Comms): "This is high-art fast bowling! Aarav Pathak is matching Hazlewood ball for ball, but at 152 clicks! The margin for error is zero, and they are painting the lines! SRH needed a big over; they got a stranglehold!"
Equation: 57 needed off 30.Over 16: Josh Hazlewood.
Pooran knew he had to go. He shuffled across his stumps. Hazlewood saw the movement. He changed the angle. He bowled six consecutive Wide Yorkers. Not wides. But just inside the tramline. Pooran reached. Shashank reached. They could only slice it to the sweepers.
Runs: 7. SRH: 134/3.
Equation: 50 needed off 24. It was getting desperate for SRH.
Over 17: Aarav Pathak.Nicholas Pooran was on strike. He had to hit a six.
Ball 1: I ran in. 149 kmph. I feigned a bouncer but bowled a yorker. Pooran anticipated the length ball. He cleared his front leg to slog over mid-wicket. He missed the ball completely. The ball crashed into the base of leg stump.
Nicholas Pooran b Aarav 42 (30)SRH: 134/4.
I pumped my fist. The big fish was gone.
Ball 2:Washington Sundar walked in. 151 kmph. First ball yorker. Sundar was late. The ball hit the toe, then the pad. LBW. Plumb.
Washington Sundar lbw b Aarav 0 (1)SRH: 134/5.
Sunil Gavaskar (Comms): "He is unstoppable! Two in two! Aarav Pathak is ripping the heart out of the chase! Pace, accuracy, and aggression. He is making the old ball talk like a new one!"
Marco Jansen survived the hat-trick ball (a yorker dug out). Total: 6 Runs. 2 Wickets.
Equation: 44 needed off 18. The game was effectively over, but we didn't relax.
Over 18 (Hazlewood): 9 Runs. (Shashank hit one four).
Over 19 (Aarav): 7 Runs. (Fast yorkers again).
Equation: 28 needed off 6.Over 20: Josh Hazlewood.
Josh decided to have some fun. He aimed for the stumps.
Ball 1: Shashank Singh bowled. Ball 3: Marco Jansen bowled. Ball 6: Bhuvi Bowled.
3 Wickets in the final over.
SRH All Out: 159. Gujarat Titans win by 25 Runs.
We gathered in the middle. I hugged Hazlewood. "That was a clinic, Josh," I said. "Absolute clinic." "You set it up, Skip," Josh smiled, tossing the ball. "152 kmph yorkers make my job easy."
Ravi Shastri (Comms): "A masterclass in death bowling! 42 runs conceded in the last 7 overs with 5 wickets! Gujarat Titans have defended 183 with comfort. They are 4 from 4. This team is for real!"
I looked at the crowd. They were singing my name. The Fortress was secure.
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April 14, 2022. Vijay Khel Maidan, Patra City.Match 24: Gujarat Titans vs Rajasthan Royals.
The "Titans Express" was gathering momentum. Four wins out of four. The fortress of Patra City was becoming a place where visiting teams came with hope and left with nothing.
Tonight, the challengers were the Rajasthan Royals. The team in pink, led by Sanju Samson, boasted a formidable lineup: Jos Buttler, Devdutt Padikkal, Shimron Hetmyer, and the spin duo of Ashwin and Chahal.
The Toss: Sanju Samson won the toss. "We'll bowl first," Samson said. "Dew might be a factor later."
I smiled. "Happy to bat. We like setting targets here."
The First Innings.Abhishek Sharma fell early to Prasidh, nicking a swinging delivery. Shubman Gill played a steady hand before holing out to Chahal.
I walked out at Number 3. The crowd noise was deafening. The pitch was true. The bounce was consistent. It was a batting day.
I decided to anchor. I didn't go for the explosive start. I played risk-free cricket in the middle overs, rotating strike against Ashwin and Chahal. I reached my 50 off 35 balls.
Then, I shifted gears. Over 16: Prasidh Krishna. I hit him for two fours and a six over long-off. Over 18: Neesham. I scooped him over fine leg. Then I drove him through covers.
I finished on 87 off 52 balls. It wasn't a 200 strike rate innings, but it was the glue that held the innings together. (8 Fours, 4 Sixes).
The Finishers:Rinku Singh and David Miller provided the late fireworks. Rinku smashed Kuldeep Sen for three fours in the 19th over, scoring a gritty 43 off 28. Miller went berserk in the final over against Prasidh Krishna, hitting 31 off just 14 balls.
Gujarat Titans: 192/4 (20 Overs).
A formidable total. Not 220, but enough to squeeze.
The Chase.Target: 193.
I took the new ball. Devdutt Padikkal and Jos Buttler walked out. The crowd was buzzing. They knew the stat. In two of the last four games, I had taken a wicket on the first ball. Could I do it again?
Over 0.1: I marked my run-up. Padikkal, the elegant left-hander, took his guard.
I ran in. 148 kmph. I angled it across the left-hander. Full, inviting the drive. Padikkal fell for the trap. He saw the width. He threw his hands at it, feet stuck in the crease. The ball moved away late. Edge. It flew straight to Shubman Gill at first slip. A regulation catch.
Devdutt Padikkal c Gill b Aarav 0 (1)RR: 0/1.
I roared. Three times in five matches! The "First Ball Wicket" was becoming my signature. The stadium erupted.
Ravi Shastri (Comms): "HE'S DONE IT AGAIN! Can you believe it? The first ball of the innings! Aarav Pathak strikes like a cobra! Padikkal goes for a golden duck. This is becoming a habit!"
Jos Buttler was the only one who stood tall amidst the ruins. He played a lone hand. He attacked Arshdeep Singh. He swept Rashid Khan. Buttler scored a fighting 54, hitting 3 sixes and 4 fours.
But the rest of the Royals crumbled. Sanju Samson was run out by a direct hit from Rahul Tewatia. Shimron Hetmyer was trapped LBW by Rashid Khan. Riyan Parag tried to hit Josh out of the ground and lost his off-stump to a 135 kmph yorker.
The Titans bowlers hunted in a pack. Rashid Khan: 4-0-24-2. Josh Hazelwood : 4-0-28-2. Aarav Pathak: 4-0-25-2.
By the time the 20th over was bowled by Yash Dayal, the Royals were gasping for air.
RR: 155/9 (20 Overs).
Gujarat Titans won by 37 Runs.
The Presentation
We gathered in the center. Another win. Another dominance at home. 5 Wins in 5 Matches. We were sitting pretty at the top of the table.
Player of the Match:Aarav Pathak. For 87 runs and 2 wickets.
Harsha Bhogle: "Aarav, you are making this look easy. 192 on the board, wicket first ball. Is there anything you can't do?"
I laughed, wiping sweat with a towel. "I can't toss, Harsha. I still lose most of them. But as long as we win the match, I'm happy."
Bhogle: "The first-ball wicket. Is that a plan?"
"It's a mindset," I said. "I want them to know from ball one that we are here to play. If I get a wicket, great. If I get hit for four, I come back harder."
I looked at the crowd, cheering my name. Patra City was a fortress. And we were the guardians.
{Guardian of the Patra City 😂😂}
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Aakash Chopra's Channel.Video Title:I WAS WRONG! Why Gujarat Titans Are UNSTOPPABLE!
The video began not with the usual high-energy intro music, but with a stark black screen. Then, Aakash Chopra appeared, sitting at his desk. He wasn't smiling. He had his hands folded on the table, looking directly into the camera lens with a mixture of humility and awe.
"Namaste, Hello, and Welcome," Aakash began, his voice measured. "Today, I am not here to analyze. I am here to apologize."
He picked up a printout of a thumbnail from two months ago. The title read: GUJARAT TITANS: MASTERSTROKE OR DISASTER?
"Before the season started," Aakash said, holding the paper up, "I called them the 'Baby Titans'. I said they were a rich man's toy. I said picking a 21-year-old captain was a gamble that would backfire. I predicted they would finish 7th or 8th."
He ripped the paper in half.
"I was wrong. Spectacularly, delightfully wrong."
The screen cut to a highlight reel of the Gujarat Titans' first five matches. The sixes from Abhishek, the yorkers from Aarav, the catches from Rinku.
"5 Matches. 5 Wins. Top of the Table. Net Run Rate of +2.9. They haven't just beaten teams; they have demolished them. Lucknow, Delhi, Punjab, Hyderabad, Rajasthan. All vanquished."
Aakash leaned forward.
"Why? How? How does a team with no 'Superstar Experience' dominate the toughest league in the world? Is it luck? No. It is a philosophy. Aarav Pathak calls it 'Fast Cricket'. I call it the future."
He pulled up the Player Performance Card.
1. The Openers: Fire and Ice
Abhishek Sharma: 198 Runs at SR 185.
Shubman Gill: 210 Runs at SR 140.
"Look at the roles," Aakash analyzed, using his digital pen to circle their strike rates. "Abhishek has a 'License to Kill'. He doesn't look at the scoreboard; he looks at the boundary. He fails sometimes, yes, but when he clicks, he kills the game in the Powerplay. And Gill? He is the anchor who never stops moving. He rotates, he drives, he ensures there is no collapse. Perfect synergy."
2. The Engine Room: The Captain
Aarav Pathak: 285 Runs at SR 178. 10 Wickets at Eco 6.2.
"The Captain," Aakash shook his head in disbelief. "What can I say about Aarav Pathak? He is not just playing cricket; he is playing 4D Chess. His batting is destructive, but his captaincy? It is pin-point. He reads the pitch like a curator. Against Hyderabad, he played an extra pacer because he knew the grass was live. Against Delhi, he batted first because he knew he could score 280. He is 21 , but his mind is like someone with experience of 35."
3. The Middle Order: The Finishers
Heinrich Klaasen: SR 190 vs Spin.
David Miller: 2 Fifties.
Rinku Singh: The revelation.
Rahul Tewatia: Quick Fire Support Finisher
"We laughed when they bought Miller. We asked 'Who is Rinku Singh?'. Well, now we know. Miller is back to his 'Killer' best because he has clarity. Rinku Singh is a pocket dynamo who fields like a panther and hits like a truck. And Klaasen? He destroys spin. They have every base covered."
4. The Bowling Cartel
Rashid Khan: Economy 5.5.
Kuldeep Yadav: 8 Wickets.
Josh Hazlewood: The Mastermind.
Arshdeep Singh: The Powerplay Specialist.
Umran Malik: 152 kmph Average Speed.
"This bowling attack," Aakash emphasized. "It has everything. Swing (Aarav/Arshdeep/Josh), Mystery Spin (Rashid/Kuldeep), and raw, terrifying Pace (Aarav/Umran). Umran Malik... the Jammu Express. Aarav unleashed him at the right moment. They hunt in pairs. They don't just contain; they attack."
Aakash put the stats away. He looked back at the camera.
"But stats only tell you what happened. They don't tell you why. The real secret of the Gujarat Titans is the culture."
A clip played of the dressing room celebrations. The cake smashing. The laughter. And then, a clip of Abichal Kumar awarding the 'Titan of the Field' medal to Rinku Singh.
"Look at this," Aakash said, smiling. "A medal for fielding. It seems small. Maybe silly to some. But look at the players' faces. Look at Rinku wearing that medal like it's an Olympic Gold. Look at Gill fighting for it. They have gamified effort. They have made diving and saving runs cool."
"And Ashish Nehra. We thought Nehra ji would be a relaxed, chill coach. But he is a tactician. He is constantly talking to Aarav, constantly plotting. But he keeps the atmosphere light. He takes the pressure off the kids. When you have a coach who laughs when you get hit for six, you don't fear failure. You fear playing boring cricket."
Aakash folded his hands.
"So, I apologize. To Aarav Pathak. To Ashish Nehra. To the Gujarat Titans fans. I called you a disaster. You are a Masterclass."
He picked up a pen.
"Are they favorites? Yes. Can they be beaten? It will take a perfect game to beat them. Because right now, they aren't just winning; they are having fun. And a team that has fun... is a dangerous, dangerous animal."
"This 'Fast Cricket Philosophy'... it isn't reckless. It is calculated aggression. And it is sweeping the IPL."
"I am Aakash Chopra. And I am officially aboard the Titans Express. Choo Choo!"
The View from the Hotel Room
I watched the video on my phone in my hotel room in Chennai (our next venue). I laughed at the "Choo Choo" part.
"He flipped quickly," Abhishek Sharma said, eating a sandwich on my bed. "Two-Three weeks ago we were kindergartners. Now we are masters."
"That's the media, Abhi," I said, turning off the phone. "They ride the wave. Our job is to make sure the wave doesn't crash."
"Next game?" Abhishek asked.
"Chennai Super Kings," I said. "Dhoni bhai. The Master Strategist."
Abhishek stopped chewing. "Dhoni vs Aarav. The Mentor vs The Student. Aakash Chopra is going to lose his mind over the narrative."
"Let him," I grinned, picking up my bat. "We just play Cricket."
I looked at the mirror. The reflection showed a Captain who wasn't just surviving the hype; he was creating it.
5 Wins. 0 Losses. The train was moving. And we had no intention of applying the brakes.
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If Aakash Chopra's video was the apology, the rest of the cricket world's reaction was the coronation. The morning after the video went viral, the discourse shifted entirely. The skepticism was gone, replaced by a scramble to be on the right side of history.
I scrolled through my feed. It wasn't just fans anymore; it was the legends.
Ravi Shastri had posted a tweet that was already blowing up.
Ravi Shastri (@RaviShastriOfc) People are surprised? I am not. He debut under mecap. I saw the fire in his eyes at the start. I saw the ice in his veins in Dubai. Aarav Pathak isn't just a player; he is a Mastermind. The tactics, the field placements, the aggression... it's all calculated. I always said he was special. Now the world knows. The Titans aren't lucky; they are led by a genius. Cheers to the 'Baby Titans'. 🥂 #IPL2022 #GujaratTitans #AaravPathak
I smiled. Ravi bhai had been my shield since day one. When I was a rookie, he protected me. When I was struggling in the UAE leg of the IPL, he fought the media for me. And now, he was leading the victory lap.
Virender Sehwag (@virendersehwag) Beta, tumne toh sabki bolti band kar di! (Son, you silenced everyone!) Fast bowling captain hitting sixes for fun? This is Gully Cricket rules in the IPL! Aarav Pathak is playing a different sport. #WahAaravWah
Harsha Bhogle (@bhogleharsha) The most impressive thing about the Gujarat Titans isn't the 5-0 record. It's the clarity. Everyone knows their role. Miller knows he has to finish. Arshdeep knows he has to take wickets with the new ball. That clarity comes from the top. Aarav Pathak has built a machine that runs on trust.
Irfan Pathan (@IrfanPathan) Being a fast bowler captain is hard. You have to think about your own overs, the field, the over rate, and the batting. Aarav makes it look easy. And let's talk about that first ball wicket habit? It's uncanny. He sets the tone before the opposition even wakes up.
Even the international stars were weighing in.
Kevin Pietersen (@KP24) This Gujarat team... wow. They have energy. They have swagger. And they have a leader who walks the talk. Love watching them play. Serious contenders.
I put the phone down. The validation was nice, but it was dangerous. Praise can soften you just as much as criticism can harden you.
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April 16, 2022. Chennai International Airport.Arrival of Titans Force One.
The contrast was immediate. We left the dry, scorching heat of Gujarat and landed in the thick, suffocating humidity of Chennai. As the doors of Titans Force One opened, the air hit us like a warm, wet towel.
"Welcome to the sauna," R. Sai Kishore, the local boy grinned, taking a deep breath of the heavy air. "This is home."
We boarded the team bus. The drive to the hotel was a journey through a sea of yellow. Even though the match was tomorrow, the city was already painted in the colors of the Chennai Super Kings. Murals of MS Dhoni adorned the walls. Vendors sold yellow jerseys at every traffic light.
This wasn't just an away game. This was a pilgrimage to the spiritual home of IPL dominance. And this season, the King was different. Ravindra Jadeja was wearing the captain's armband, having taken over from Dhoni at the start of the season.
Time: 4:00 PM. M. A. Chidambaram Stadium.Practice Session.
We walked out onto the hallowed turf of Chepauk. The stands were empty, but the ghosts of thousands of roaring fans seemed to linger in the silence. The heat was oppressive.
I walked straight to the pitch with Ashish Nehra. The curator had left it dry. Cracks were visible. It looked abrasive.
Nehra crouched down, pressing his thumb into the surface. It didn't give. "This isn't Patra City, Aarav," Nehra said, standing up and dusting his hands. "Here, pace is poison. If you bowl 150, it comes onto the bat nicely. If you bowl 120, they can't time it."
I nodded. "So we park the 'Fast cricket' philosophy for a day?"
"We adapt it," Nehra corrected. "Fast cricket of spin. We need the ball to fizz."
I turned to the squad. "Listen up!" I shouted. "Change of plans. Batters, put the helmets away if you want, but get your dancing shoes on. You won't get bounce here. You'll get turn. Low turn."
I looked at the bowling group. "Rashid, Kuldeep, Noor, Sai Kishore. This is your playground. The pacers... Josh, Arshdeep, Umran... you are the support cast tomorrow. Cutters. Slower balls. Cross-seam."
Umran Malik looked disappointed. "No 155, Skipper?" "Only if you want to see the ball land in the Bay of Bengal," I grinned. "Bowl fast, but bowl smart."
The practice was intense. We focused entirely on playing spin. Gary Kirsten was throwing wet balls on a rough patch to simulate the skid. Shubman Gill and Abhishek Sharma practiced the sweep shot—the only way to disturb the lengths at Chepauk.
I padded up and faced Rashid Khan. The ball gripped. It turned square. "Beauty!" Rashid shouted as he beat my outside edge. "This wicket... I like it."
"Save it for tomorrow, Wizard," I laughed, stepping out to smother the spin.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the I, J, and K stands, visitors arrived.
The Chennai Super Kings were finishing their warm-ups in the adjacent nets. Ravindra Jadeja walked over, twirling a ball in his hand. He was followed by the towering figure of Shivam Dube.
"Aarav bhai!" Dube called out, walking over with a wide smile.
I stopped batting and walked out of the net. "Shivam! Long time." We hugged. Dube was a gentle giant off the field.
Then, the Sword Master arrived. "Kem cho, Captain?" Jadeja smirked, shaking my hand. His grip was strong, his eyes sharp behind his sunglasses.
"Majama, Captain," I replied in Gujarati. "How is the captaincy treating you?"
Jadeja laughed, running a hand through his beard. "Heavy. Mahi bhai made it look easy. But it's good. We are fighting."
"You guys look dangerous," I said. "This pitch... it's made for you."
"And you brought four spinners," Jadeja noted, looking at our squad. "You did your homework. But be careful, Aarav. Chepauk traps you. You think you are set at 30, and then suddenly you are out for 32. 160 is a winning score here."
"We like chasing," I shrugged.
"We'll see," Jadeja winked. "Dinner tonight?"
"Jet Lag today," I sighed. "But after the game?"
"Done."
We chatted for a few more minutes about the World Cup, about the fatigue, about common friends in the Indian team. It was the easy, familiar banter of teammates who go to war together for the country but fight each other for the franchise.
As they walked back to their camp, I looked at Nehra.
"They are confident," I said.
"They should be," Nehra replied. "They own this ground. But we..." Nehra grinned, spinning a ball on his finger. "We are the rude guests who don't follow the house rules."
I looked at the pitch one last time. Dry. Dusty. Dangerous. It was going to be a battle of attrition, not velocity. And I was ready to grind.
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April 16, 2022. ITC Grand Chola, Chennai.Team Meeting Room.Time: 9:00 PM.
The air conditioning in the meeting room hummed a low, constant drone, fighting a losing battle against the oppressive Chennai humidity that seemed to seep through the walls. We had finished dinner a spread of Chettinad chicken, dosas, and pasta for the carb-loaders and now, the squad had gathered for the final ritual before battle.
I sat at the front of the room, flanked by Ashish Nehra and Vikram Solanki. On the screen behind me, a heat map of the Chepauk pitch was displayed. It was a sea of red and orange—dry, abrasive, turning.
"Right," I said, clapping my hands to bring the room to order. "Phones away. Eyes up."
The chatter died down. Shubman Gill stopped whispering to Abhishek Sharma. Rashid Khan put his phone in his pocket.
"Medical update first," I said, looking at Tim David. The big Australian power-hitter was sitting with his leg propped up on a chair, an ice pack strapped to his hamstring. He had tweaked it in the nets yesterday attempting a quick single.
"Tim?" I asked.
Tim shook his head, grimacing slightly. "It's tight, Skip. Physio says more rest. I can walk, but I can't sprint."
"Okay," I nodded. "We don't risk it. It's a long tournament. You rest. Ice up. Get well soon."
Tim nodded, disappointed but understanding. "Go get 'em, boys."
I stood up and walked to the whiteboard. I picked up a marker.
"Chennai," I wrote. "Chepauk."
"We all know what this ground is," I said, turning to the group. "It is not Wankhede. It is not Patra City. The ball will not come onto the bat. It will grip. It will stop. It will turn."
I looked at the fast-bowling cartel Hazlewood, Arshdeep, Umran, Yash Dayal.
"For the pacers, this is a graveyard if you try to bowl fast. But it is a goldmine if you have variations. Cutters. Knuckleballs. Wide yorkers."
Then I looked at the spinners. Rashid Khan, Kuldeep Yadav, Noor Ahmad, Sai Kishore.
"For you guys... this is Disneyland. This is where you win us the match."
Ashish Nehra chimed in, leaning forward. "We have analyzed the CSK lineup. Gaikwad, Uthappa, Rayudu, Moeen, Dube, Jadeja, Dhoni. A lot of right-handers at the top. But Dube and Jadeja in the middle are dangerous lefties."
"We need to control the middle overs," Nehra emphasized. "If we let them rotate strike against pace, they will set 170. If we choke them with spin, they won't cross 150."
I took a deep breath. This was the part of captaincy I hated telling a match-winner he was sitting out.
I looked at Arshdeep Singh. The left-arm pacer had been brilliant for us. He had taken wickets in the Powerplay and nailed yorkers at the death. He was a core member.
"Arsh," I said softly.
Arshdeep looked up, his eyes meeting mine. He already knew. He was a smart cricketer; he had seen the pitch.
"The pitch is dry, Paaji," Arshdeep said before I could speak. "You need the extra spinner."
I smiled, relieved by his maturity. "Exactly. It's nothing to do with form. You are my powerplay bowler. But on this track, I need 12 overs of high-quality spin. I need to choke them."
"I understand, Skip," Arshdeep nodded, tapping the table. "I'll carry the drinks. Keep you hydrated."
"Champion," I said. "You'll be back next game."
I turned back to the board and uncapped the marker again.
"So, here is the XI to storm the fortress."
I wrote the names down, reading them out loud.
1. Shubman Gill. "Anchor. Play straight. Don't play across the line early on."
2. Abhishek Sharma. "Attack the powerplay. But watch out for Theekshana."
3. Aarav Pathak (C).
4. Heinrich Klaasen. "Spin destroyer. This is your stage."
5. David Miller. "Finish it."
6. Rinku Singh. "Energy. Everywhere."
7. Rahul Tewatia. "You could bowl today, Rahul. Be ready."
8. Rashid Khan. "Wizard."
9. Kuldeep Yadav. "Confidence is high. Keep flighting it."
10. Josh Hazlewood. "Experience. Hard lengths."
I paused at Number 11. I looked at the tall, lanky figure sitting at the back of the room. A boy who had grown up on the streets of Chennai, who had sat on the CSK bench for years, dreaming of playing on this ground, only to be released.
"Number 11," I said, writing the name in bold letters. "R. Sai Kishore."
The room erupted in applause. Sai Kishore stood up, a shy, disbelief-filled grin spreading across his face. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at his teammates who were cheering for him.
"Sai," I said, walking over to him. "You know this ground better than any of us. You know the wind. You know the bounce. You know the angles."
"Yes, Anna," Sai said, his voice trembling slightly with emotion. "I grew up here. I was a ball boy here."
"Tomorrow, you are not a ball boy," I said firmly, gripping his shoulder. "Tomorrow, you are the Titan."
Sai's eyes hardened. The shy boy was replaced by a competitor. "Yes, Skip. I will turn it square."
"That's what I want to hear," I grinned. "Left-arm orthodox. Tall release. Bounce and turn. You are my trump card against their right-handers."
I walked back to the front. The team looked settled. The roles were clear.
"We have three main spinners," I summarized. "Rashid, Kuldeep, Sai Kishore. Plus Tewatia. Plus Abhishek (if needed). That is 12-14 overs of spin options. We are going to strangle them. We are going to make them work for every single run."
Nehra clapped his hands. "Okay. Short meeting. Clear minds. Sleep well. Hydrate. Tomorrow is a 7:30 PM. It will be humid. Sweat will be an issue. Use the towels."
"One last thing," I said.
I looked at the squad. "We are 5-0. We are unbeaten. People are waiting for us to slip. They are waiting for the 'law of averages' to catch up. They say we can't win away from home on a turning track."
"Let's prove them wrong. Again."
"TITANS!" The shout echoed off the walls.
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