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******
The transition from the spiritual silence of Wankhede to the polished marble floors of the Cornerstone Sport office in Bandra felt like stepping into a different universe.
Rocky wasn't carrying a kit bag today.
He was wearing a crisp polo shirt, feeling slightly out of place in an environnt that slled of expensive espresso and ambition.
Bunty Sajdeh sat behind a desk that overlooked the Mumbai skyline.
On the walls were iconic shots of Virat Kohli, the aggressive stare, the perfect cover drive, the brand logos.
Bunty didn't waste ti with small talk. He went to straight to business.
"You've seen Virat's posters on the way in?" Bunty asked, leaning back.
"In 2008, I signed him when he was just a talented kid with a bit of an attitude. We did more than managing his cricket. We built a brand. That's why you're here, Rocky. You're the first person I've seen since then who has that sa 'X-factor.' But, all of these... cos with a price."
He leaned forward, his tone turning serious.
"From today, you are a public asset. Every tweet, every Instagram post, even the way you walk out of an airport, the dia will interpret it. If you scowl, they'll say you're arrogant. If you're too quiet, they'll say you're cracking under pressure. We are going to start your dia training imdiately. How to handle Ravi Shastri's booming questions, how to deflect 'trap' questions from journalists, and how to maintain that 'clean' image."
Hearing this, Rocky didn't refused, he cleared his throat and his voice was firm.
"Bunty bhai, I have a condition. I grew up watching Sachin Paaji for years. He never touched or sponsored tobacco or alcohol ads. He never promoted anything that would make his mother or his fans ashad. I want the sa. No beer, no pan masala, no betting apps. And... I don't want to do those 'flirty' ads like Virat did with the actresses in the beginning. My focus is cricket. That's my bottom line."
Rocky was straightforward too. He didn't minced his words.
He directly stated his red line, sothing he absolutely must never touch in his life.
It's fine to occasionally drink it privately, but Rocky knew the impact of fan cultures explosion in future.
He knew how fans would like to imitate their idols, screw that, he himself was like that.
Only when you experienced it, you can understand the absurdity of it.
He realized that if he wants to beco a legend, he must never endorsed these types of ads and promotions.
Bunty smiled, slightly impressed that a young man could have such a firmness.
He is indeed better than Cheeku. I'm really looking forward to his future.
Smiling at the thought, he exclaid, "Spoken like a true successor! Sure, it'll cost us a few crores in the short term, but it'll make you a legend in the long run. It's a deal, Rocky!"
___
Just as Bunty was about to pull out a contract, the sa one Virat had signed years ago, of course, it had been modified to match current era, Rocky's phone vibrated on the table.
It was an unsaved, premium-looking number.
"Take it," Bunty shrugged. "Get used to it."
Rocky swiped up.
"Hello?"
"Is this the man of the hour? The 'Rule-Breaker' himself?" The voice was loud, booming, and filled with a forced, jovial warmth.
Rocky imdiately recognized the accent from TV.
He had heard it countless tis since last life.
It was Vijay Mallya, King of Good Tis.
The founder of Kingfisher Airlines
current owner of RCB.
Currently, he was at his peak of life, even though the hidden struggle had started.
Now, he was still a legal person instead of a future fugitive that flex London to avoid arrest and accountability.
"Ah, hello, Mr. Mallya," Rocky said, glancing at Bunty, who imdiately sharpened his gaze.
"Call Vijay, my boy! I just wanted to check in. How is the recovery? How is Cuttack? I heard the weather is lovely this ti of year." The small talk was polished, sounding exactly like a salesman trying to sell a private jet.
"You played a hell of a tournant. Truly wonderful. My scouts in Bangalore can't stop talking about you."
Then, the tone shifted. The "King of Good Tis" got to the point.
"Listen, Rocky. I know the BCCI is playing gas with these new rules. It's a sha what they're doing to Mumbai. But I wanted to give you a personal assurance. If Mumbai is foolish enough to use their RTM on that bowler, what's his na? Gu-Bumrah? You don't have to worry. I will do everything in my power, and I an everything, to bring you to the Chinnaswamy. Imagine you, Gayle, Virat, and Abd in the sa Top 4? We'd be unstoppable...Okay, Think about it. We'll talk soon. Goodbye beta."
After so pleasantries, Rocky hung up and breathed a sigh of relief.
(A/N: Don't forget that RCB bought Yuvi for 14 cr. It literally crippled their squad. So, I'm not kidding. This is how Vijay Mallya used to operate.)
___
Rudra looked at the phone, then at Bunty, his tone was incredulous.
"He... he just basically told he's going to outbid everyone."
Bunty shrugged, looking completely unfazed.
"That's the ga, Rocky. Vijay Mallya wants a showman, and you're the biggest show in town. But listen to carefully: Ignore it."
Bunty stood up and walked around the desk. "Leave the brands, the frantic phone calls, and the billionaire egos to . That's why you're signing this. If you start thinking about the money, your footwork will get slow. If you start thinking about RCB vs. MI, you'll lose your focus."
He tapped a finger on Rocky's phone.
"And for God's sake, get a verified handle on Twitter today. There are already five 'Rocky Rudra' accounts claiming you've already signed with Bangalore, Delhi, Punjab. People are desperate to use your na to spread fake news. We have to control the narrative from now on, especially in social dia."
___
Bunty pushed a pen across the table.
It was a heavy, silver fountain pen.
"Virat signed with a pen just like this," Bunty said quietly, falling into nostalgia.
"He was a boy from Delhi who wanted to conquer the world. And, now you're a boy from Cuttack who's already started. You want to be the next legend? Sign this."
Rocky took the pen. He thought of his Grandma back at ho, his childhood coach Sujit sir, he thought of Sachin's farewell speech, and the recently ongoing "The Rocky Rule" that was trying to tear his team apart.
With a steady hand, he signed the contract.
Rocky Rudra was now officially a Cornerstone Athlete.
As they walked out, Bunty whispered in a soothing, brotherly tone.
"Welco to the big leagues, Rocky. By the way... keep your bags packed. We've got a photoshoot for a sportswear brand tomorrow, and then, the selectors are going to announce the squad for the South Africa tour. If your na is there, the auction price just doubled."
___
AT BCCI HEADQUARTERS, MUMBAI.
The boardroom at the BCCI Cricket Centre inside the Wankhede Stadium complex was thick with the heavy scent of expensive cologne, lukewarm catering coffee, and an undercurrent of stale tension. Outside, the Mumbai traffic humd a distant, chaotic rhythm, but inside these soundproofed mahogany walls, the atmosphere was suffocating.
For the first ti in twenty-four years, a selection eting for a major overseas tour was happening without the na "Sachin Tendulkar" on the whiteboard.
His retirent had left a physical and emotional crater in Indian cricket,
The upcoming 2013 Tour of South Africa was no longer just another bilateral cricket series. It was a baptism by fire. It was the volatile, terrifying dawn of a new era.
Sandeep Patil, the Chief Selector, sat at the head of the table, restlessly tapping the cap of his marker against a legal pad. The rhythmic click-click-click was the only sound breaking the uneasy silence.
"Look, gentlen, we need to let logic dictate this decision, not emotion," Patil began, his voice laced with the heavy weariness of a man carrying the expectations of a billion fans. "We are flying straight into the Highveld. Wanderers, Centurion, Durban. Dale Steyn, Morne Morkel, and Vernon Philander are waiting in their own backyard with a dynamic, green-top track. We desperately need seasoned hands to anchor the middle order. Ambati Rayudu has been the absolute definition of consistency. He is twenty-eight, he's hungry, and he has spent years grinding out the hard yards
he's done the hard yards in dostic cricket. Dropping a raw, unpolished teenager onto a flight to Johannesburg right now isn't a bold strategy. It's sending a lamb straight into a slaughterhouse."
"Exactly," another selector chid in eagerly, throwing his shoulders forward and leaning over the polished table. Rocky Rudra is an absolute sensation, nobody is denying that. The kid sells tickets. But let's be honest with ourselves—he is a T20 sensation. The Champions League T20 was a completely different thing, played on flat, subcontinent pitches under banking lights. Nine balls of absolute madness do not guarantee that a boy can survive six gruelling hours of Dale Steyn breathing down his neck at 150 clicks, angling the ball into his ribcage. He hasn't even played a full season of the Ranji trophy. It is simply too soon. If we expose him to that kind of psychological damage now, we will ruin him for life."
For the next ten minutes, the argunts bounced aggressively off the wood-panelled walls. The room fractured into opposing camps, their voices was heightening in doubt.
"He's too young." "He's unproven in the long format." "It's a gamble we can't afford."
Amid the rising noise, all eyes gradually drifted toward the massive LED screen mounted at the far end of the room. On the grainy, high-definition video feed, a man sat quietly in a nondescript hotel room hundreds of miles away, his arms folded across his chest.
MS Dhoni had been silent for twenty minutes, his face was an unreadable mask of calm as he observed the frantic chaos unfolding.
The BCCI President shifted in his leather chair, cleared his throat, and raised a single hand. The room fell instantly silent.
"Mahi," the President said, his voice echoing cleanly through the microphone system. "You've heard the argunts. The committee is leaning toward Rayudu for that middle-order slot in the squad. They collectively feel that Rocky is an unnecessary risk on South African soil... What is your definitive take on this?
On the screen, Dhoni adjusted his posture, leaning slightly forward. He didn't offer a polite smile.
He didn't even blink.
"To be blunt," Dhoni began, his voice cutting through the remaining tension like a knife, "I want Rocky in my team for the Test series."
A collective murmur of profound disbelief rippled across the room. Several selectors exchanged stunned glances.
"The Test series, Mahi?" Patil asked, his eyebrows shooting up. "Not the white-ball squad? You want him for the red ball?"
"Yes. The Tests," Dhoni replied firmly. "I've played against him on the dostic circuits. I've seen him from behind the stumps when the pressure was so high you could feel it in the air. You all talk about the 'IPL madness,' but you weren't there at the Bucchi Babu tournant in Chennai. I had a long conversation with Ashwin right after that tournant ended. Rocky didn't simply play against Ashwin. He dominated him on a track where Ash was turning it square. He wasn't hitting blindly. He was manipulating the field like a veteran. Do you want to know exactly what Ashwin said to in the dressing room?"
Dhoni didn't wait for anyone to answer. His eyes locked onto the cara, "Ash said, 'Mahi, that kid doesn't respect the aura of the bowler at all. He doesn't care who you are, he just wants to humiliate you. I've bowled enough overs in my career to understand that he doesn't belong in the dostic circuit anymore. He does needs more global exposure'."
Dhoni leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he drove his final point ho.
"And let's talk about that CLT20 semifinal. That pitch was an absolute minefield. Even Paaji, the greatest to ever play, was struggling to find his timing. Everyone was scratchy. Then this guy walks out and hits 43 off 9 balls. That's not so 'luck.' That's a level of composure you can't teach to anyone. If he can display that level of fearlessness against a world-class international attack on a dying pitch, imagine what he is capable of doing in a Test match when he has the luxury of ti and doesn't have to worry about a mounting required run rate."
Dhoni leaned so close to his laptop cara that his face filled the entire boardroom screen.
"South Africa is all about heart. It's about not flinching when the ball cracks into your ribs at ninety miles an hour. Rudra does not flinch. He possesses that incredibly rare, destructive X-factor that can completely hijack the montum of a Test session in fifteen minutes flat. Ambati Rayudu is a fantastic, dependable player. But Rocky Rudra is an out-and-out match-winner. I am not looking for a batsman who can rely survive Dale Steyn's spell. I am looking for soone who forces Steyn to think twice about his length."
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The boardroom descended into a stunned silence.
When MS Dhoni spoke like that, direct, clinical, and beca fiercely protective of a raw talent.
There was no counter-argunt left to make. The debate was over.
The President slowly turned his head to look at Sandeep Patil.
Patil stared down at his legal pad, looked at his notes on Rayudu, and then looked back up at the frozen video fra of the Indian captain. He let out a long, slow sigh, a genuine smile finally breaking through his stern expression.
"Well... if the Captain is that certain," Patil said, capping his marker with a loud snap, "then it seems we have found our dynamic X-factor."
Patil stood up, walked over to the large whiteboard, and firmly erased the large question mark (?) next to the final middle-order slot. In bold, aggressive, sweeping letters that solidified a destiny, he wrote:
ROCKY RUDRA.
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(P/S: How is it? Did I correctly captured our Thala personality? Comnt below 👇 to let know.)
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