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The Feroz Shah Kotla in Delhi was not a stadium. It was a fortress, a 17th-century bastion of grit, smog, and intimidating noise.
The air was a hazy grey, thick with the promise of a long, five-day war. The crowd was not the respectful, appreciative audience of Chennai or the partisan-but-awe-struck fans of Mumbai; they were a solid, baying wall of Delhi bravado.
This was the Ranji Trophy Final. And Hyderabad, the dark horse, was deep in the lion's den.
The Delhi team was a murderer's row of talent. In the nets, Siddanth saw them. Aakash Chopra, the "Wall," was a picture of defensive perfection, his front pad a barn door.
A young, flashy, left-handed Shikhar Dhawan was all swagger and flair, his bat a scything willow.
A 19-year-old Virat Kohli, not yet the King but already possessed of that incandescent, bristling arrogance, was smashing their own net bowlers with a contempt that was almost personal.
And leading them, the general, the man whose sheer force of will had dragged Delhi to the final: Gautam Gambhir. He was a warrior.
In the Hyderabad dressing room, the mood was tense. Coach Vijay Paul, his face grim, paced the floor.
"They're the favorites. This is their home. They expect to win," he said, his voice a low growl. "But we will show them our fury and rise as the champions."
The coin went up. Gambhir called correctly. The roar from the crowd confirmed it.
"We will bat," Gambhir's voice crackled over the speakers, laced with absolute certainty.
Aakash Chopra and Shikhar Dhawan walked out. It was a classic Delhi pairing: the Wall and the Swashbuckler.
Hyderabad's workhorse seamer, Rajesh, ran in, his 130kph deliveries met with the dead, immovable bat of Chopra. For an hour, the only sound was the dull thud of leather on the absolute middle of Chopra's bat. It was a suffocating, demoralizing display of pure, old-school defence.
At the other end, Dhawan was growing restless. He was a creature of boundaries. The captain threw the ball to Siddanth, who had been waiting at mid-on.
"First change," the captain said. "Get me the lefty."
Siddanth marked his run-up. The long, explosive, 17-step rhythm. The Kotla crowd, seeing the 17-year-old take the ball, let out a condescending cheer.
He ran in. It was a blur. His "Javelin" (Lv. 1) skill activated, his core and shoulder rotating in a perfect, violent slingshot.
148kph.
Dhawan, expecting a medium-pacer, was late. He tried to pull, the ball was on him, cramping him, smashing into his thigh pad with a sound like a pistol shot.
"HOWZAT!" Siddanth roared, a genuine, instinctive appeal. The umpire was unmoved.
Dhawan just glared, rubbing his thigh. The cheer from the crowd died.
Siddanth walked back. He's a compulsive puller. He can't resist.
He ran in again. 149kph. He dug it in, short, at Dhawan's throat.
Dhawan, his ego stung, went for it. The hook shot. But at this pace, he couldn't control it. He top-edged it. The ball flew, high and fast, towards third slip. The fielder, placed there for this exact shot, barely had to move.
WICKET 1. (Dhawan c. Slip b. Deva 28)
Siddanth didn't celebrate. In walked Gambhir.
This was the real fight.
Gambhir, all grit and fury, took his stance. Siddanth ran in. 150kph. A perfect outswinger.
Gambhir didn't flinch. He just... left it. He let it pass, an inch from his off-stump, and then held his pose, bat raised, in a perfect, dismissive follow-through. A message. That's all you have.
Siddanth tried again. Faster. 151kph.
Gambhir just nudged it, soft-handed, into the covers for a single. He had defused the rocket with a tap.
This was the difference between a prodigy and a master.
For the rest of the day, Gambhir and Chopra put on a masterclass of attritional batsmanship. Chopra was the wall, Siddanth's 150kph rockets thudding into his defensive blade.
Gambhir was the general, punishing the rare bad ball, his eyes burning with an intensity that matched Siddanth's own.
Siddanth bowled a 7-over spell. Then another 5-over spell. By the end of the day he had bowled 19 overs.
End of Day 1: Delhi 260 for 2. (Chopra 85, Gambhir 115)*
The second morning.
He got his man. Chopra, who had batted for six hours, was finally undone by a Sleight of Hand wobble-seam delivery that jagged back and trapped him LBW. WICKET 2.
In walked Virat Kohli.
He was 19, and he was arrogance personified. He walked to the crease and took his guard by smashing the pitch with his bat.
This was the future. Siddanth, looked at the 19-year-old future king. He's all ego. He's all aggression. He will attack me.
Siddanth had to be smarter.
He bowled a 135kph outswinger. Kohli, with that trademark bottom-handed whip, smashed it through cover for four.
He bowled another. Kohli drove him again. Four.
The crowd was chanting "KOH-LI! KOH-LI!"
Siddanth stood at the top of his mark. He's expecting pace. He's expecting a fight. I will not give it to him.
He ran in, his action identical, that fast, whipping motion. Kohli's eyes lit up, his front foot clearing for the drive.
But Siddanth had rolled his fingers over the ball. It was the 105kph slower-ball yorker.
Kohli was through his shot before the ball had even arrived. He was in another zip code, his bat swinging at empty air. He looked back, horrified, as the ball, moving in slow motion, looped under his bat and clicked into the base of the middle stump.
WICKET 3. (Kohli b. Deva 18)
Siddanth just smiled. Kohli stood there, stunned, before dragging himself off, muttering a stream of curses at the pitch, his bat, and Siddanth himself.
Siddanth had bowled another 10 overs. His total was now 29.
Gambhir, meanwhile, was still there. A warrior. He was farming the strike, protecting the tail, and grinding Delhi towards an insurmountable total. He was finally out for a monumental 182, caught in the deep off a spinner, but the damage was done.
Delhi All Out: 435.
Siddanth's figures: 31 overs, 4 maidens, 112 runs, 3 wickets.
---
Hyderabad's reply was a disaster. The Delhi seamers, fresh and smelling blood, ripped through the top order.
Hyderabad: 45 for 4.
Rayudu, who had tried to counter-attack, was caught at slip for 20. The openers were gone. The captain was gone.
Siddanth Deva walked to the crease.
Gambhir, seeing this, was ruthless. He brought his field in. Kohli was at short leg, Dhawan at silly point. The chirping was relentless.
Siddanth activated his Predator's Focus (Lv. 2). The world went silent.
The Delhi seamer, a 140kph workhorse, dug one in short, aimed at his shoulder.
Siddanth didn't flinch. He couldn't pull, so he ramped. He arched his back, his Acrobatic Instincts taking over, and just deflected the ball, one-handed, over the keeper's head for four.
The fielders were stunned.
The spinner came on. He tossed it up. Siddanth reverse-swept. A perfect, one-armed flick against the spin. Four more.
He was playing an innings that defied normal cricket. He was all wrists and reflexes. He used his Sleight of Hand to dab and guide, his Dancing Skills to create angles.
He built a partnership with the stoic wicketkeeper. He protected the tail. He was shielding them, playing 90% of the strike, his mind calculating every angle, every run.
He passed 50. He passed 100. It was his fourth century of the season, and it was his most brilliant. He didn't just raise his bat; he held it up, pointing it directly at sky.
He was the last man out, finally bowled by an exhausted seamer, trying to hit a six.
Siddanth Deva: 162. Hyderabad All Out: 390.
They had conceded a 45-run lead. It was a miracle of an innings, but it wasn't enough.
---
The game was still in Delhi's control. All they had to do was bat for two sessions, set a target, and let their spinners win on a Day 4 Kotla pitch.
Delhi batted with professional, boring calm. Gambhir, the general, made a quick 60. Kohli, smarter this time, made a steady 40. They didn't take risks.
Delhi declared at 220 for 5.
The Target: 266 runs to win.
The Time: 95 overs. One full day.
---
The final day. 266 to win. On a pitch that was now a dusty, cracked minefield.
Hyderabad's openers, for the first time, showed fight. They saw off the new ball, putting on 50.
Then, the spinners came on. And the collapse began.
50 for 0 became 60 for 1.
75 for 2.
90 for 3.
Ambati Rayudu, desperate to atone, ran down the pitch, missed a straight one, and was stumped by a mile. He walked off, his face a mask of thunder.
92 for 4.
Siddanth Deva walked out, It's Mumbai all over again.
He needed 174 runs.
He and his captain, Rajesh, began the impossible. Siddanth was the brain. Rajesh was the brawn.
Siddanth was playing a grim, game of survival.
The Delhi fielders were all over him.
He and Rajesh put on 100 runs. It was the ugliest, bravest partnership of the season.
Hyderabad: 192 for 4.
74 runs needed.
Gambhir, seeing the game slip, threw the ball to the veteran seamer. The ball was 70 overs old. It was reversing.
The seamer bowled a perfect, in-swinging yorker. Rajesh, exhausted, was too late. Bowled.
192 for 5.
The tail was exposed.
Siddanth now had to shield his partners and score.
He was on 80*.
He farmed the strike. He took a single on the fifth ball. He hit a boundary on the first ball. He was a general, managing his dwindling resources.
The Final Over. 18 runs to win. 1 wicket in hand.
Siddanth Deva is on 91. The number 11, a man who can't bat, is on strike.*
The Kotla was a wall of noise. Gambhir, in a moment of pure, egotistical genius, threw the ball to Virat Kohli.
The 19-year-old prodigy versus the 17-year-old.
Ball 1: Kohli to the Number 11. A fast, nervous full toss. The batsman swings, gets a top edge... it lands safe! They run! Single!
Siddanth is on strike.
17 runs needed. 5 balls.
The field came in.
Ball 2: Kohli to Siddanth. A wide delivery. Siddanth leaves it. Wide.
16 runs needed. 5 balls.
Ball 2 (re-bowled): Kohli to Siddanth. Full, on the legs. Siddanth smashes it. It's in the gap! It's racing! Four!
12 run needed. 4 balls.
The field was in, a tight ring. A super-over field.
Ball 3: Kohli to Siddanth. Siddanth just has to touch it. He prods, gets an inside edge... onto his bat! single run.
11 run needed. 3 balls.
Ball 4: Kohli to No 11. He swings! He mistimes! It goes to mid-on. He runs! Gambhir swoops in, picks it up, and throws.
The keeper gathered the throw. He wasn't rushed. He calmly took the bails off. The number 11 was out by a yard.
RUN OUT.
Hyderabad All Out.
The scoreboard flashed.
Delhi: 435 & 220/5d. Hyderabad: 390 & 254.
Delhi wins by 10 run.
Siddanth Deva was on his knees at the non-striker's end, 96 not out. He had misjudged the single. He had pushed for the win and, in his haste, had run his partner out. (Or, more tragically, his partner had failed him).
The Delhi team exploded. Kohli roaring at the sky. Gambhir, the warrior, just stood there.
He walked over to Siddanth, who was still on one knee, his head bowed, his mind processing a margin of failure so fine it was invisible.
Gambhir offered his hand.
"You're a hell of a player, kid," the Delhi captain said, his voice a low growl.
Siddanth just nodded and thanked him. He had scored 162, taken 3 wickets, and scored 96*.
And he had lost. By ten runs.