The team sheet was pinned to the notice board at 7:00 AM sharp. Coach Ramesh Bhatia placed it there without ceremony, then walked away.
Players gathered slowly, some with coffee, some still stretching. The usual murmurs filled the corridor.
Nikhil Srivatam stood at the edge of the crowd, notebook in hand, Veer tucked under his arm. He didn't push forward. He waited.
Then he heard it.
"Srivatam's in."
The Selection Debate
The decision hadn't been casual.
With Tanishq Rawat ruled out for two weeks due to a fractured forearm, UP needed a replacement. But it wasn't as simple as slotting in another batter.
The management sat late into the night, weighing options.
Option 1: Another batter from reserves. But the squad already had depth in batting—Raghav Mehta, Karan Bhagat, Ravi Teja. Adding another pure batter would unbalance the side.
Option 2: A second left-arm pacer. Vivek Agnihotri was already in the XI. Doubling up would leave the middle overs exposed against spin-heavy opponents.
Option 3: A specialist spinner. Siddharth Rao was the senior off-spinner. But Punjab's lineup had multiple left-handers who thrived against pace. Another spinner could choke their scoring.
That's where Nikhil came in.
He wasn't just a spinner. He was an off-spinner who had shown control, endurance, and tactical awareness in training. He could bat low in the order, field tirelessly, and adapt under pressure.
Rajeev Menon, watching quietly, had said one line:
"He's not the most experienced. But he's the most useful."
The Name on the Sheet
Nikhil stepped closer.
UP vs Punjab – Playing XI
There it was.
No. 7 – Nikhil Srivatam (Off-spin, Right-hand bat)
His name.
On the sheet.
Not as a substitute. Not as a reserve. As a player.
The Reactions
The dressing room buzzed.
Ravi Teja, keeper-batter, grinned. "Finally. You've been fielding like you own the turf."
Karan Bhagat gave a quiet nod. "You earned it."
Raghav Mehta smirked. "Don't bowl that flatter one too early."
Mayank Rawat clapped him on the back. "Welcome to the XI."
Vivek Agnihotri added, "Now you get to sweat with us properly."
Siddharth Rao, his mentor, didn't say much. Just one line.
"Don't chase wickets. Chase rhythm."
The Preparation
Training that day felt different.
Nikhil wasn't shadowing. He was central.
He bowled in the main nets—six sets of six, each with a different field. He practiced batting against spin—sweeps, nudges, and soft hands. He worked with Ravi Teja on calling between wickets. He adjusted his grip with Siddharth Rao.
He didn't rush. He absorbed.
Coach Bhatia watched from the boundary. He turned to Rajeev Menon.
"You were right. He's not flashy."
Menon nodded. "He's foundational."
The Briefing
That evening, the squad gathered in the strategy room.
Punjab's lineup was projected on the screen.
Coach Bhatia pointed to their No. 4 and No. 6—both aggressive against spin.
"We'll use Nikhil between overs 18 and 30. He'll bowl in tandem with Siddharth."
He turned to Nikhil.
"You'll get five overs. Maybe six. Control the middle. Don't chase magic."
Nikhil nodded.
Why Him, Not Others
Later, as the squad dispersed, whispers lingered.
Why Nikhil? Why not someone older?
The answer was simple.
He had trained harder than anyone else, bowling long spells even when not in the XI.
He had fielded tirelessly, saving runs and taking catches that mattered.
He had shown tactical awareness, reading batters and suggesting field traps during briefings.
He had balance—a lower-order bat, a reliable off-spinner, and a sharp fielder.
Others had experience. Nikhil had impact.
The Quiet Moment
Later that night, Nikhil sat alone under the neem tree behind the dorm.
He opened his notebook.
He didn't sketch field placements. He wrote one line.
"Tomorrow, I bowl. Not to prove. To contribute."
Veer rested beside him. The breeze was soft. The moment was his.