A/N: If you like the story, remember to give a review. It'll motivate me to continue with same passion ✌️😁
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The elevator doors slid open to the lobby, and the atmosphere shifted instantly.
The quiet was gone.
It was a sea of Mumbai Indians blue.
There was Harbhajan Singh laughing loudly at something, Ambati Rayudu focused and intense, and in the center of it all, Ricky Ponting and Sachin Tendulkar were deep in conversation.
The legends. The gods of the game.
Rudra felt a momentary flare of the old "fan" inside him wanting to gasp, but he suppressed it.
He wasn't a fan anymore.
He was a teammate.
As Rudra entered, it felt like he had stepped into a whole new world.
Seeing Sachin Paaji and Ricky Ponting right in front of him made his breath hitch for a second.
But he told himself, 'Don't be afraid. You aren't a spectator here anymore, you're a player now.'
He gripped his bag tight and moved forward.
John Wright spotted them and waved them over to the corner where the pre-match roles were being finalized.
"Bumrah, Rudra. Glad you're down," Wright said, his eyes scanning a clipboard.
"Bumrah, you're in the XI. You're opening the bowling with Mitchell Johnson. Don't overthink it."
Bumrah's face went pale, then determined.
He nodded.
Wright then turned to Rudra.
"Rudra, you're our 12th man today. But don't think that means you're just carrying water. We're playing against RCB. They have Gayle, AB, and Kohli. They hit the ball hard and they hit it flat."
Wright stepped closer, dropping his voice.
"I've seen your ground coverage. You're our best fielder. Period. Be ready from the first over. If anyone needs a breather or a tactical swap, you're going in at Point. I want you to haunt that circle. Understand?"
Rudra didn't just nod.
He looked Wright in the eye, the look of a man who had waited two lifetimes for this.
"I'll be ready, Coach."
___
The M. Chinnaswamy Stadium was a cauldron of noise.
Thousands of fans clad in the fiery red and gold of the Royal Challengers Bangalore had packed the stands hours before the first ball was even bowled.
The "R-C-B! R-C-B!" chant didn't just echo.
It pulsed through the concrete, a rhythmic heartbeat that defined the Silicon Valley of India on match day.
High above the sightscreen, the massive floodlights hummed to life, cutting through the evening haze and bathing the emerald outfield in a brilliant, artificial glow.
In the middle of the square, the grass was trimmed to a precise millimeter, smelling of fresh earth and morning dew.
Ravi Shastri, holding a microphone like a scepter, stood next to the gleaming IPL trophy and the two men everyone had come to see.
"Welcome to the garden city! It is a magnificent evening here in Bengaluru for the second game of this Pepsi IPL 2013!"
Shastri's voice boomed over the PA system, vibrating with his trademark energy.
"The atmosphere is electric, the fans are screaming, and the stage is set for a clash of the titans!"
On the big screen, the cameras zoomed in on the captains.
Ricky Ponting, the veteran legend in Mumbai blue, stood with his hands on his hips, looking every bit the three-time World Cup winner.
Opposite him stood the young prince of Indian cricket, Virat Kohli, his face etched with the aggressive intensity that had already become his calling card.
"We have the match referee, Javagal Srinath, and the two captains. Virat has the coin. Ricky, you are the away skipper. Call it, please!"
Virat took the silver coin from the referee.
He looked at Ponting, a sharp, competitive glint in his eyes.
With a flick of his thumb, the coin spun high into the Bengaluru night, a silver blur against the black sky.
"Tails!" Ponting called out clearly as the coin reached its apex.
The coin hit the turf with a metallic clink and settled near the edge of the pitch.
Srinath leaned over, nodded, and pointed toward the Mumbai captain.
"It's a tails! Mumbai Indians have won the toss!" Shastri roared, and a collective gasp followed by a cheer erupted from the stands.
"Ricky, first game in charge of the Mumbai Indians. You've won the toss here at the Chinnaswamy... what are you going to do?"
Ponting didn't hesitate.
"We're going to have a bowl first, Ravi. It's a small ground, a bit of moisture in the air tonight, and we've got a pace attack we want to unleash. We'll look to keep them to a par score and chase it down under the lights."
Shastri turned the mic toward Kohli, who was already adjusting his cap, looking unfazed.
"Virat, tough luck with the toss, but you're batting first at home. Happy?"
"Absolutely," Kohli said, a confident smirk playing on his lips.
"It's a great wicket to bat on. We wanted to put a total on the board anyway and put their new-look side under pressure. The boys are ready, the crowd is behind us, and we're looking for a big start."
As the captains shook hands and walked toward their respective dugouts, the stadium speakers blasted the IPL theme.
A few yards away, near the edge of the 30-yard circle, the Mumbai Indians squad was finishing their final warm-up drills.
Among the stars like Malinga and Pollard, an 18-year-old Rudra stood still, his eyes locked on the pitch.
He wasn't wearing a bib yet.
He was in his full playing kit, his wiry frame looking sharp and ready.
"We won the toss," John Wright muttered, walking past Rudra with a clipboard.
He could see the way the wind was swirling at the top of the stands.
He could see the slight tension in Munaf Patel's walk as the veteran seamer headed toward the huddle.
"Rudra!"
John Wright, the head coach, caught him near the equipment bags.
"Munaf's groin is still 50-50. He's starting, but he's not going to be sprinting for boundaries. You're on the rope from the first ball. If he gives the signal, you're in at Point. I want that 100 energy. Don't let Gayle breathe."
"Understood, Coach," Rudra replied.
He didn't need anyone to tell him what to do.
He watched as Mitchell Johnson took the new ball, his tattoos glistening under the floodlights as he paced out his run-up.
Chris Gayle and Tillakaratne Dilshan were already walking out, the 'Universe Boss' looking like a mountain in pads.
The umpire signaled. The crowd let out a final, unified roar.
[RCB Innings: 0.1 Over]
Rudra stood at the very edge of the white line, his eyes locked on the striker's end.
The game was live.
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