The first true test of Arjun's captaincy arrived during the under-19 zonal championship.
The opposing team was strong—Telangana's finest under-19 boys, aggressive, loud, and confident. They had won the previous three tournaments, and their captain was notorious for intimidating younger players. Many expected Arjun's team to crumble.
He didn't panic.
From the first ball, he noticed subtle tells: the bowler's fingers tightening, the fielder's eyes twitching when a batter adjusted stance, the captain's reliance on instinct rather than analysis. Every small sign mattered.
He made his first move. He opened with a cautious batter who would block effectively but could rotate strike. Sid, predictably, was placed at number four, the "flash" position. By giving Sid early freedom, Arjun lulled the opposition into overconfidence.
Then he set a field—a curious placement that seemed defensive but allowed slight gaps in the right areas. The opposition fell into it, trying to exploit what they assumed was a mistake.
Arjun took guard at number three.
He didn't hit the ball for spectacle. He nudged singles into gaps, rotated strike, and guided partnerships without ever swinging for six. Sid occasionally tried to steal the show, but Arjun subtly adjusted field positions and communicated silently to other players, controlling the rhythm.
By mid-innings, Arjun had achieved what few captains did at any level: he dictated not only his team's play but the opposition's mindset. They began to rush, miscalculate, and lose focus. Each mistake fed into his plan.
When Arjun finally got out for 72, the partnership had turned the game in their favor. The team finished the innings with a competitive total.
The opposition batted next. Arjun's adjustments were quiet but lethal. He rotated bowlers strategically, placed fielders subtly, and subtly manipulated the psychology of the batters. Every delivery seemed guided. Every decision, premeditated. By the last over, Andhra Pradesh won by 38 runs.
Coaches whispered. Players stared. Sid fumed silently.
Raghava Rao, sitting in the stands, understood something he had never realized before: Arjun didn't just play cricket. He controlled it. He could bend matches without anyone noticing, influence outcomes without raising a voice, and create conditions where victory was inevitable long before the first ball was bowled.
From that day, Arjun wasn't just a captain. He was a tactician. A strategist. A mind no one fully understood.