A/N: If you like the story, rember to give a review. It'll motivate to continue with sa passion ✌️😁
Also, I have updated the Auxiliary Chapter.
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The morning sun at the Barabati was still gentle, casting long, golden shadows across the outfield.
Sujit Sir stood with his whistle hanging loosely around his neck, his eyes tracking the boys as they went through their ladder drills.
Rocky stood beside him, hands tucked into his pockets, watching the rhythmic thud-thud of feet on the turf.
To the kids, even seniors, he was a giant.
To Sujit Sir, he was still the boy who used to break his neighbor's windows during rainy days.
Sujit Sir didn't turn his head when he finally spoke.
"So," he started, his voice raspy.
"How was it? What was that dressing room really like, away from the caras?"
Rocky took a deep breath, the sll of the morning dew and the stadium soil grounding him.
"Great, sir," Rocky replied with a small, reflective smile.
"It was... intense, but everyone was surprisingly supportive. Coach John Wright and Ricky, they were like a shield. They made sure the dia circus stayed outside the gates. Inside, it was just about the ball, the bat, and the field."
He paused, watching a young dium-pacer struggle with his follow-through, before his mind drifted back to that fateful night in the Mumbai dugout.
"Sir, do you know?" Rocky's voice dropped an octave, thick with the weight of the mory.
"Before Ricky told the whole team he was dropping himself... he told first. He pulled aside when the stadium was half-empty."
Sujit Sir stopped his whistle-chewing, his attention now fully on Rocky.
"He looked straight in the eye," Rocky continued, "And said, 'Rocky, you're going to get your chance. Don't worry, I have your back. Go and play like you did in the nets. I'll recomnd you tomorrow and I've already talked with John and the others. Kid, steel yourself. You are going to open with Sachin tomorrow.'"
Rocky looked down at his own hands, almost as if he could still feel the weight of the responsibility Ponting had placed there.
"He told , 'Be ready, kid. Grab these opportunities while I'm here.' And then, right before he walked away, he said sothing I'll never forget.."
Rocky then took a breath then spoke,
"He said, 'I see my own shadow in you.'"
The silence that followed was heavy.
Even the distant sound of leather hitting willow seed to fade.
Sujit Sir let out a long, slow whistle, looking back at the nets.
He knew exactly what that ant.
For a man like Ponting, a three-ti World Cup winner and a ruthless competitor, to say he saw his "shadow" wasn't just a complint.
It was a passing of the torch.
"His shadow, huh?" Sujit Sir finally muttered, a rare, genuine look of awe crossing his face.
"You know, if a tiger tells you that you hunt like him, you don't go back to eating grass. You've brought more than just technique back from Mumbai, Rocky. You've brought back a different spirit."
He slapped Rocky on the back, the force of it nearly knocking the wind out of him.
"Now, enough of this talk. These guys are looking at you like you're a God. Go show them why a legend saw his shadow in you. Pick up the bat."
Rocky snapped out of his stupor and nodded as he was itching to do it anyway.
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Rocky stepped into the net, and the atmosphere at the OCA changed instantly.
The casual chatter died down, replaced by the rhythmic clack-clack of the bowlers adjusting their spikes.
He wasn't wearing the flashy Mumbai Indians blues today, just a plain white training tee and his old pads, but the way he stood at the crease made the air feel electric.
Sujit Sir walked behind the stumps at the bowler's end, his face a mask of professional sternness.
"Standard match protocol," the coach barked.
"No 'easy' balls because he's your junior or a big na now. If you get him out, I'll buy the whole team lassi. If you don't, you run ten laps."
The sun beat down on the Barabati nets, but Rocky didn't feel the heat.
He was in a different zone, one he had imported directly from the Mumbai Indians' inner circle.
As he took his guard, he didn't just look like a batsman.
He looked like a squatter on the bowler's territory.
Rocky's stance was an open defiance.
He stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, but his weight was coiled, leaning slightly onto the balls of his feet.
The bat was held high, the handle pointing toward the sky and the blade angled sharply toward second slip, the unmistakable, high-trigger back-lift of Ricky Ponting.
Sujit Sir stood behind the stumps, his eyes narrowed.
'He's not just standing there,' the coach thought.
'He's hunting. That high bat... it's like a guillotine waiting to drop. I've never seen a boy from Odisha look this 'Australian' at the crease.'
Akash, the Odisha Ranji squad ace bowler, the fastest of the lot, ca charging in.
He hit the deck hard, the ball zip-lining off the surface at a tight, good length.
In one fluid, violent motion, Rocky's front foot hamred forward.
There was no "feeling" for the ball.
He t it at the earliest possible point, the bat coming down from that steep angle with the force of a falling axe.
CRACK!
The ball didn't just go past the bowler.
It scread past him, a blur of red leather that thudded into the far sight-screen.
'Too full. You can't bowl there to . Ricky said if they pitch it up, you punish the intent. Don't just hit the ball, hit the bowler's confidence. I can see the seam, I see the gap too. The field is just a suggestion.'
"Akash bhai!" Rocky called out, his voice sharp and carrying that new, elite authority.
"You're falling away in your delivery stride. Your head is leaning toward the off-side, so you're losing three inches of height and two yards of pace. Straighten the spine, follow through toward my chest, not the side-crease."
The next bowler tried to get smart.
He saw the high back-lift and thought he could hurry Rocky with a short ball.
A bouncer, a desperate attempt to ruffle the "big star."
He banged it in halfway down the pitch.
The ball climbed toward Rocky's throat.
This was what Rocky had been waiting for.
The mont the ball left the hand, he didn't duck.
He didn't sway.
He pivoted on his front foot, his body turning like a door on a hinge.
The bat ca around in a horizontal arc, the classic Ponting pull shot.
He didn't hit it down.
He smashed it flat and hard over the mid-wicket boundary.
"Too short for this speed," Rocky said calmly, walking toward the bowler. "If you're going to bouncer soone, you need an extra yard of pace. Otherwise, you're just giving a free boundary. Aim for the armpit, not the head."
'Hmm... The composure. He isn't reacting to the ball. He's dictating to it. Last year, he would have hurried that shot. Now? He's got so much ti that it's a little scary. That month with Pravin Amre Sir and the nights with Ricky Ponting and legends have turned his nerves into steel cables. He's playing like he owns the stadium, the air, and the very dirt under his feet.'
Sujit Sir was analysing internally with a straight face.
Between balls, Rocky moved through the nets like a commander.
He stopped a young off-spinner mid-action.
"Stop. Your fingers are too tight on the seam," Rocky said, taking the ball and showing the grip.
"You're choking the revolution. Relax the grip, use the third finger to 'rip' it more. And look at when you bowl, don't look at the pitch. I want to see you try to get out, not just complete a chore."
The older bowler nodded, eyes wide, absorbing the wisdom of a man who had survived the most competitive dressing room in the world.
For two hours, Rocky didn't lose his wicket.
Not once.
Whether it was the turning ball or the rising one, his bat was a broad, impenetrable wall when he defended and a lethal weapon when he attacked.
His composure was the most frightening part.
Even when a ball stayed low and beat the bat, Rocky didn't look frustrated.
He just tapped the pitch, stared the bowler down with a cold, predatory gaze, and reset.
He had that "big ga" aura, the sense that he could do this for ten hours if he wanted to.
"This is what it feels like. To be the one in control. No predictions, no luck. Just and the ball. Every ti I touch the leather, I'm now going to tell the world that Ricky Ponting wasn't wrong. I am the shadow. I am the successor."
Rocky thought calmly.
As he walked out of the net, sweat dripping from his chin, he didn't look tired.
He looked hungry for more.
He handed the ball back to Sujit Sir.
"The boys are good, Sir," Rocky said, his voice steady.
"But they're playing scared. They need to realize that the batsman is more afraid of the ball than they are of the bat. Once they learn to dominate the space, they'll be unstoppable."
Sujit Sir just nodded, unable to find a single flaw to critique.
Rocky wasn't just playing like a professional.
He was playing like a man who had already decided he was going to be a legend.
For now, the dominance was absolute.
There were no cracks in the armor, only the shining, terrifying brilliance of a star on the rise.
Sujit Sir with a smirk playing on his lips, patted Rocky and said, "Okay, okay. Enough lecturing. These guys are our best and you've ruined their confidence for the day. Go get so water."
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