Kadhal Kanmani

Championship Trophy

As the day of our departure to England for the championship trophy drew closer, excitement and nervousness consumed me. Stepping onto the plane, I located my assigned seat and settled into the window seat. I let out a sigh of relief as I noticed the seat next to me was still empty. I silently crossed my fingers and said a quick prayer, pleading with the heavens that the seat next to me remain unoccupied or taken by someone else, as the person I desperately wanted to avoid was Adhi. Little did I know that fate had a mischievous plan in store for me. My calm composure threatened to crumble as I realized he was seated right next to me. I casually turned my head towards the window, pretending to be engrossed by the view outside.

Adhi cleared his throat, but I remained unnoticed. He started speaking. "So, someone told me that what happened on that night should be forgotten. They said, as adults, we should not dwell on it. But the same person is hiding from me after the incident, like a teenager." My heartbeat quickened, and I turned towards him, my eyes locking with his. I couldn't let him go on with his assumptions. "There is nothing for me to hide away from you, Adhi, and I am not a teenager, but your elder sister," I said firmly and turned back towards the window.

He called out my name, but I refused to acknowledge him. He came near me and blew a soft, delicate gust of air on my earlobe. I quickly covered my ears with my hands, turning to him with a mixture of confusion and annoyance, asking, "What on earth are you doing?". With a mischievous smile on his face, he said, "I called you; you did not turn back, so I did not have a choice." I sighed and asked him, "Tell me, what do you want?"

"So, Tara, tell me how you're going to hold responsibility for me," he asked, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. I raised my brow, slightly taken aback by his question. "What responsibility?" I asked. A playful grin spread across his face as he leaned in closer. "Well, you see," he began, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "you took my first kiss. Obviously, you need to be responsible for me now."

"Come on, Adhi. Didn't we decide, as adults, that we shouldn't dwell on it?" I replied. "It was your decision; you never asked mine." He looked at me, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Ah, my dear, don't try to dump me now," he teased, before closing his eyes and settling into sleep. I stared at him, feeling a mix of confusion and frustration. How did I end up in this situation? How could I get this kid out of my way? But amidst the chaos of my thoughts, I made a firm decision—for now, I would set this matter aside and focus on the mission at hand.

We had finally landed in England, the birthplace of cricket. The air was crisp, and a sense of excitement filled our bones. Our boys may have been playful off the field, but when it came to cricket, they were serious and determined. Each one of them practiced diligently, refining their skills and honing their techniques. They knew that representing our country was a privilege, and they were willing to put in the hard work to make us proud. At the helm of our team was none other than Goat. As our skipper, he not only led by example but also made it a point to guide and encourage the boys. David and I had taken on the roles of mentors, ensuring that our boys remained stress-free and unaffected by external factors.

It was the day of our first league match against South Africa. The excitement was palpable as we won the toss and elected to bat first. GOAT and Adhi walked confidently onto the field, ready to set a challenging target for our opponents. However, the very first ball of the inning brought shock and disappointment. Rabada's lethal yorker crashed into the stumps, sending Adhi back to the pavilion with a score of 0(1). Undeterred by the setback, Dhawan joined GOAT at the crease. Together, they began to rebuild our innings, slowly accumulating runs and steadying the ship. Unfortunately, wickets fell at regular intervals, disrupting our momentum. However, Goat and Dhawan displayed remarkable resilience, managing to weather the storm and keep the scoreboard ticking. Boundaries were struck, singles were stolen, and our innings started to gain some semblance of momentum. Finally, the 50 overs were up, and our final score stood at 270-9. After a short inning break, we took to the field with renewed determination. Harpreet and Pratik spearheaded our bowling attack, hoping to make inroads into the South African batting lineup. Their accuracy and skill paid off as wickets began to tumble. Each bowler contributed crucial breakthroughs, never letting the South African batsmen settle. Our fielders backed them up with brilliant catches, further denting the confidence of the opposition. The pressure mounted, and South Africa crumbled, with their final wicket falling at 262 in 48.3 overs.

Our second match was against England, and they won the toss, electing to bowl first. It was a crucial match for us, and Goat and Adhi were the opening batsmen. We started decently, with GOAT playing some delightful shots. However, tragedy struck when Adhi played a false shot and lost his wicket. Dhawan, our reliable batsman, came in at number three. Together with GOAT, they tried to stabilize the innings and set a competitive total. As the overs ticked by, our team struggled to accelerate the scoring rate. Boundaries were hard to come by, and the English fielders were sharp at cutting off runs. Despite our efforts, we reached a modest total of 198 all out by the end of the 50 overs. We knew deep down that 198 runs were not enough to defend against a strong team like England, especially on a batting-favored pitch. England's opening batsmen came out swinging, and our bowlers tried their best to contain them. We took some early wickets, but their middle order came in with great form. Boundaries flowed, and their run rate escalated. Despite our best efforts, we ended up on the losing side.

The loss hit us hard, both on the field and off. The audience, as well as former legends, took to social media, questioning Adhi's place in the playing eleven. They highlighted his lackluster performances in the Championship Trophy and the Australian series played earlier, wondering whether it was time to replace him with a more experienced batsman. Amidst the speculations and doubts surrounding Adhi's place in the team, we stood beside him. As a united team, we shielded him from external pressure and ensured that he remained calm and focused. Adhi had always been a promising player for our team, but recently, his performances have taken a dip. In the upcoming matches, he showed some improvement, but it was not the top-notch performance we had hoped for. People started voicing their opinions, bringing billboards that read, "Drop Adhi from 11" and other similar sentiments. It was disheartening to see the negativity surrounding him, and I couldn't help but worry about his state of mind. Though Adhi managed to hide his emotions well, there was something off about him. I decided to discuss this with David. David had undoubtedly experienced similar situations during his illustrious career, and I believed he would be the best person to motivate Adhi.

As a team, we persevered and managed to reach the quarterfinals of the championship trophy. However, luck wasn't on our side, and we lost the game by a mere two runs to New Zealand. It was a bitter pill to swallow, and the disappointment lingered in the air. Yet, amidst our heartbreak, we found solace in the fact that we had grown. We acknowledged our flaws and understood that there were areas in which we needed to improve. We accepted the reality that, to win such prestigious trophies, we needed to excel in every aspect of the game.