Day 1 – The Call to Adventure

I boarded the 3:00 PM flight from Delhi, a strange cocktail of excitement and nerves swirling inside me. The two-hour journey to Vadodara passed in a blur half-dreaming about cover drives and match-winning moments, half wondering if my game was ready for the battles ahead. As the plane began its descent, I pressed my forehead against the window, watching a mosaic of green fields and twisting rivers unfold below. A sense of calm washed over me, quickly followed by a jolt of anticipation. This wasn’t just another flight. It was the first step into an arena where every run, every ball, every decision mattered.

We touched down at 5:00 PM, greeted by Vadodara’s warm evening air a welcome contrast to Delhi’s fading winter chill. But my arrival was anything but smooth. At the baggage belt, I spotted a familiar black laptop bag and grabbed it instinctively only to realize seconds later that it wasn’t mine. Heart racing, I scanned the crowd, imagining my work laptop and documents already halfway across the city in someone else’s hands. Before full panic could set in, a gentle tap on my shoulder pulled me back. A fellow passenger stood there, holding my bag, his sheepish smile matching my relief. A small mix-up, a shared laugh, and my first taste of Vadodara’s honesty.

Relieved, but only for a moment.

The real test came at the oversized baggage counter, where I waited for my cricket kit. My heart sank when the airline staff told me my bat my trusted companion, my weapon — hadn’t made it onto the flight. In that instant, I felt like a knight stripped of his sword, like Arjun without Gandiva. Matches can be won with skill and grit, but every cricketer knows some bats are more than wood and rubber. They carry history, confidence, soul.

I filed a missing baggage complaint right there, my voice tight with urgency. Phone calls were made, assurances given, but none of it could calm the storm inside me. The bat would be sent on the next flight, they promised. Until then, all I could do was wait and hope.

Hours later, at exactly 10:00 PM, a knock at my hotel door delivered salvation. My bat was here. So was I.

The hotel, a polished 4-star retreat, offered all the comforts a weary traveler could ask for but my mind wasn’t interested in plush pillows or room service. My bat lay beside me on the bed, and that was all the comfort I needed. The team meeting that night felt like a war council, voices hushed but the tension electric. Tomorrow, the battles would begin not in boardrooms or conference calls, but on the only pitch that ever mattered.

Sleep was a luxury I didn’t need. My bat was back. My spirit was ready. Let the games begin.

Day 2 – The Battle of MRPL

The IOCL Cricket Stadium wasn’t just a ground, it was an arena. And in that arena stood giants Abhishek Sharma, Prithvi Shaw, Shivam Dube, Amit Mishra, Navdeep Saini, Rahul Tripathy, Manish Pandey, Aditya Tare, Pragyan Ojha several other Ranji Cricketers, IPL Players. Names I had only seen on TV. Legends I now stood beside.

But today’s opponent was MRPL, not a team of superstars, but a team of fighters. Just like us.

Batting first, we crumbled. Green pitch, wicked bounce, and I managed just 5 runs before I had to trudge back, my bat feeling heavier than ever. 100 all out.

The crowd barely glanced at the scoreboard. They thought they knew the ending already.

One unique moment happened while I was sitting in the pavilion after my dismissal. The match commentator, standing with his mic near our dugout, approached me for a quick chat during the innings break. He asked me, live on air, "Kashi, what do you think is a defendable target on this pitch?"

With my first-hand experience of how unpredictable and spicy the pitch was, I confidently said, “Even 100 runs will be very difficult to chase on this track, especially with our bowling lineup.”

My comment was broadcast across the ground, and I could see a few heads in the MRPL camp turn. It felt like a bit of psychological warfare planting the seed that even a modest target could become a mountain on this surface.

But cricket, as always, has a wicked sense of humor. It loves nothing more than making fools out of certainty or proving it right in the cruelest ways.

When our innings ended at exactly 100, I couldn’t help but smile almost too perfect. But then, a small voice inside me whispered “Damn Maybe I should have said 150 instead.” Sometimes, words have power, and I wondered if my confident prediction would either motivate our bowlers or spur MRPL to prove me wrong.

With just 100 runs to defend, it was time for our bowlers to step up and prove that even the smallest of targets could be formidable when backed by belief, strategy, and a pitch from hell.

Enter Ramesh Khatik, our unassuming left-arm spinner. What followed can only be called a miracle written in leather and seam 7 wickets for 11 runs, a hat-trick in his final over, and MRPL bowled out for 91.

I was there, holding two catches, my hands trembling but my heart soaring. We had defended 100. And I wasn’t just a player I was part of the story.

After Winning Against MRPL

Day 3 – Clash with the Titans – IOCL Awakens

The next day brought IOCL, the tournament’s final boss. Their squad gleamed with Ranji and IPL warriors Aditya Tare, Siddhesh Lad, Prithvi Shaw and Many more.

If MRPL was a battle, this was a war against gods.

We lost the toss our fate seemed tied to that cursed coin. What followed was a massacre 340 runs in 20 overs. Every ball they hit seemed destined for the boundary. Every fielder including me felt like a spectator.

They didn’t just bat they declared dominion. Chasing 341 felt like running up a mountain during an avalanche. But still, I stepped up. As always, while opening the innings , Indrajit Das, asked, “Kashi, what do you want to do?” And like always, I grinned: "Non-striker"

I didn’t score much but every boundary I hit was a punch through the storm, a reminder that I belonged on that pitch, even if I had to fight for every inch.

My cover drive and lofted straight drive earned me compliments from the very men trying to destroy us. We lost. But I walked off knowing one thing: The scoreboard is temporary — the fight is eternal.

Batting against IOCL – Hit two boundaries against their opening bowler in this video!

Day 4 – Five Catches, One Six, and a Field of Fire

Against Oil India, the field was my kingdom and I guarded every blade of grass.

From long-on to deep midwicket, I covered every inch of the boundary, shifting after every over, running on legs that had no reason left to stand.

And yet, I stood.

Five times, the ball came my way.

Five times, I held on.

Five catches each one a story.

One of them a diving forward grab at long-on felt like I flew.

The crowd cheered. My teammates roared. I was no longer just Kashi. I was the Wall at the Boundary.

But the moment I’ll never forget? Facing Abu Nechim, an ex-India A player, and lifting him over long-on for a six.

The kind of shot you remember when you’re old and grey, the kind you tell your grandchildren about.

We lost the match, but the scoreboard didn’t matter. That day, the field was mine.

Scorecard against OIL India – Took 5 catches in this match!

Day 5 – Meeting Legends, Living Dreams

With the tournament over for us, I could finally be a fan. And what a day to be one. I met Abhishek Sharma, Shivam Dube, Amit Mishra, Vinay Kumar, and many more. I asked them how they time the ball so sweetly. They all said the same thing fitness, mobility, endless practice.

I even video-called my college teammates (Our Weekend stars), letting them meet the stars who once lived only on our hostel TVs. Watching my friends smile seeing them connect with legends felt like I had carried a piece of them with me.

The final treasure? Seeing Sachin Tendulkar practicing just beside our ground. My childhood hero, my first cricketing love, just a few steps away.

No photograph, no autograph just the sight of him, and my journey felt complete.

Reflections – My Love Letter to Cricket

Cricket isn’t my hobby it’s the pulse under my skin.

From gully cricket to PSPB tournaments, from broken windows to broken partnerships, cricket has been my constant companion. On the field, there’s no past, no future just the next ball.

This tournament taught me: