Two days before the final list would be revealed, the academy's largest office transformed into a crucible of judgment. The long, oval table—usually reserved for tournament planning—was now surrounded by twenty chairs, each occupied by a selector, mentor, or coach. The walls were lined with performance charts, match footage stills, fitness reports, and psychological assessments. Every player's journey had been reduced to data, memory, and debate.
At the head of the table sat Coach Rameshwar, flanked by mentors Kaif, Raina, and the senior selectors from both camps. The air was thick with anticipation, and the tension was already palpable before the first name was spoken.
The selection began with the Syed Ali Trophy camp.
Thirty players. Seven spots.
The coaches of the Syed Ali group were fiery from the outset. Voices rose. Papers were slapped. One coach stood mid-sentence, refusing to back down on his pick. Another countered with match footage and fitness data. The arguments weren't petty—they were passionate, rooted in months of observation and belief.
The mentors from the Vijay Hazare camp watched quietly, offering occasional insights but staying out of the fray. After nearly two hours of heated debate, the Syed Ali list was finalized. Seven names. Seven futures. The paper was signed and sealed.
Then came the second half.
The Vijay Hazare Trophy selection.
Twenty-four players. Seven spots.
Coach Rameshwar leaned forward. "Let's begin."
The first name called was Mayank Rawat.
There was no debate.
No one spoke. No one needed to.
He had led with clarity, bowled with venom, and batted with maturity. His IPL credentials, his calm under pressure, and his mentorship of younger players had made him a pillar of the camp.
Every coach nodded.
"Next," Rameshwar said.
The second name: Divakar Singh.
This time, a few eyebrows lifted—but not in doubt. In admiration.
"He's raw," one selector said, "but fearless."
"His hundred in the 50-over match was one of the best innings of the camp," another added.
"He's emotional," someone cautioned.
"True," Kaif said, "but he channels it. He doesn't drown in it."
A few more nods. A brief silence.
Approved.
Then came Vivek Agnihotri.
The room leaned in.
"He's not loud," said one coach, "but he's always in control."
"Vice-captain material," another added. "Bowled in pressure overs. Batted with maturity. And he's coming back from injury."
"He's the kind of player who makes others better," Raina said.
There was a pause. Then a slow, collective nod.
Three names in. Four to go.
Then came the name: Nikhil Sharma.
The room paused.
Mentor Raina spoke first. "He's versatile. Anchored under pressure. Bowled containment spells. And that 50 off 18 balls—no one else in the camp has shown that kind of gear shift."
A senior selector raised an eyebrow. "He's sixteen. You want to throw him into senior-level cricket at that age?"
Raina didn't flinch. "Sachin was sixteen when he debuted for India. Against Pakistan. Facing Wasim and Waqar. Age isn't the barrier—it's temperament."
Another coach leaned forward. "Sachin was a prodigy. Nikhil's good, but is he ready for the grind? The travel, the media, the spotlight?"
Kaif interjected. "He's not just good. He's composed. He's coachable. And he's shown leadership without wearing the armband."
A third mentor flipped through his notes. "His bowling's still raw. He hasn't taken wickets consistently."
Raina nodded. "True. But he's contained hitters. He's bowled under pressure. And he's improving. You saw his spell in the last match—no wickets, but no boundaries either."
The room grew tense.
Some nodded. Some shook their heads. One selector scribbled something. Another leaned back, arms crossed.
Coach Rameshwar remained silent, his eyes scanning the room, absorbing every word.
The name hung in the air.
And the room, once filled with certainty, now sat in doubt.
The debate continued—quiet, intense, unresolved.
And outside, the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the academy.
The list was still in flux.
And Nikhil's fate remained unwritten.