Match 1: vs. Kolkata Knight Riders
Location: Eden Gardens, Kolkata
The atmosphere was electric. KKR, high on their 158-run-inspired win, was buzzing. DC, in their strange pale-brown-and-black jerseys, looked enthusiastic. Laxman won the toss and chose to bat, a decision to set a target and absorb the pressure.
The "Big Four"—Gilchrist, Laxman, Symonds, Gibbs—were expected to explode.
They imploded.
Gilchrist, trying to match McCullum's hype, charged the second ball of the match and was caught at mid-off. 23 for 22.
Laxman and Symonds tried to rebuild.
But the pressure of the new format was too much. Symonds, the 6-crore man, tried to hit his way out of trouble and was caught in the deep for 32.
Laxman was left stranded.
At the 10-over mark, Siddanth ran out with drinks. Laxman, his face a mask of frustration, took a bottle.
"VVS-bhai," Siddanth said, his voice low and quick, "Coach says to play your natural game. Forget the T20. Just... bat. The rest will follow."
Laxman just nodded, his eyes refocusing.
Laxman played a graceful, lonely 48, but the team was all out for 110. It was a pathetic total, one that KKR, even without McCullum firing, chased down in 15 overs.
Result: DC Lost.
Siddanth learned: Superstars don't make a team. And hype can make legends play like fools.
Match 2: vs. Delhi Daredevils (The Home Collapse)
Location: Uppal Stadium, Hyderabad
The first home game.
Siddanth was on the boundary, warming up. He wanted to play, to give his city the show it deserved. He waved to his family—Nanna, Amma, and Arjun—sitting in the corporate box. Vikram Deva looked impossibly proud, even though his son was just carrying drinks.
"Focus, Deva!" Robin Singh barked, and Siddanth immediately turned his back on the crowd.
This time, DC bowled first. And they ran into a buzzsaw. Delhi, led by Sehwag and Gambhir, was ruthless. But the real show was from AB de Villiers. He played three shots—a scoop, a reverse-sweep, and an impossible, off-balance ramp.
Delhi posted a massive 194.
The chase was chaos. Gilchrist, desperate to atone, came out swinging. He smashed 40 runs in 15 balls, a glorious, violent explosion.
And then he was out.
The stadium fell silent.
Laxman and Rohit Sharma were at the crease, trying to rebuild, but the required rate was already 11 an over.
A wicket fell. Tactical time-out.
Siddanth ran out with drinks.
Siddanth ran to Laxman. "Bhai, Coach says to open up. He's backing you to go over the top."
He ran to Rohit. "Rohit-bhai, Coach says play your game. He wants you to attack."
They tried. They really did. But the pressure was too much. Rohit, trying to hit a six, was caught at long-on. Laxman, trying to force the issue, was bowled.
Result: DC Lost. Badly.
Match 3: vs. Rajasthan Royals
Location: Sawai Mansingh Stadium, Jaipur
The mood on the bus to Jaipur was toxic. The 0-2 start, the media mockery ("Deccan Floppers"), the immense pressure of the price tags—it was all festering. Robin Singh had drilled them into the ground for two days, his "work-first" mantra becoming a "work-or-die" threat.
"We have to win this," was the simple, grim message.
Their opponents were the "joke" of the league: Rajasthan Royals, a team of nobodies, bought for pennies, and led by a 38-year-old "retired" legend, Shane Warne.
Laxman won the toss and, this time, DC batted. The plan was simple: brute force.
Gibbs and Gilchrist walked out.
What followed was one of the most brilliant, psychological displays of captaincy Siddanth had ever witnessed.
Warne didn't just bowl. He played them.
He brought in a part-time, unknown leg-spinner in the second over. Gilchrist, his ego screaming, tried to send him to the moon and was caught at long-off.
He brought himself on. He tossed the ball up, flighted, tempting Symonds. "Come on, big man, hit me!" he chirped. Symonds took the bait. He swung for the fences, was beaten by the dip, and was stumped by a mile.
He brought on a young, slingy fast-bowler, Sohail Tanvir, who no one had ever heard of. His action was bizarre. His pace was deceptive. He ran through the middle order.
Result: DC all out for 110. Rajasthan chased it in 15 overs.
0-3.
The dressing room after the match was not just silent; it was a black hole. Siddanth had never, in either of his lives, felt an atmosphere so completely devoid of hope.
Men were sitting, staring at their lockers. Symonds had already shattered a bat. Gilchrist, the vice-captain, just sat, his head in his hands.
Match 4: vs. Mumbai Indians (The Breaking Point)
Location: DY Patil Stadium, Mumbai
This was it. A loss here, and the season was over. The media was calling for the "Big Four" to be benched. The pressure was now a physical, choking thing.
Siddanth, for the first time, felt the cold detachment crack. He wanted this. He wanted to be out there. He was tired of watching his team, his legends, fail.
But he was in the orange bib again.
Mumbai, led by Sachin Tendulkar, chose to bat. And they had Sanath Jayasuriya.
The Sri Lankan legend was in a murderous mood. He was all flashing blade and minimal footwork, smashing Hyderabad's opening bowlers, RP Singh and Scott Styris, to all corners.
He was 48 not out, and Mumbai was 65 for 0 after 6 overs. It was a bloodbath.
Laxman, his face ashen, signaled for a time-out.
Then he made changes to the field, making it more attacking.
RP looked at the new, aggressive field. A slow, wolfish grin spread across his face.
The first ball of the new over, RP Singh ran in and dug it in short, a vicious, 140kph bouncer aimed at Jayasuriya's head.
Jayasuriya, his eyes lighting up, went for his signature pull.
But the field was set. He wasn't trying to clear a man 30 yards in; he was trying to clear a man 80 yards out. He had to force it.
He connected... but he didn't get all of it. The ball soared, high and flat, towards deep square leg.
The fielder, stationed there just for this, didn't have to move. He took the catch.
OUT.
The DC dugout, for the first time in four games, exploded. Robin Singh just permitted himself a grim, satisfied nod.
The momentum shifted. Mumbai, without their explosive opener, faltered. They were restricted to 154 for 7.
It was a gettable target. But the DC dressing room knew they had no business being confident.
---
The chase was a mirror of the team's entire season: panic, stupidity, and a desperate search for a hero.
Gilchrist, trying to be the anchor this time, was too slow. He was trapped LBW for 10. 15 for 1.
Gibbs came in, hit two glorious fours, and then, in a moment of pure brain-fade, tried a suicidal quick-single and was run out by a mile. 30 for 2.
Symonds came in, his face a mask of thunder. He was out 4 balls later, caught at slip. 35 for 3.
Siddanth, sitting on the dugout steps, just buried his head in his hands. It was happening again.
VVS Laxman, the captain, walked out at 35 for 3, the weight of a city, a franchise, and a dressing room full of broken superstars on his shoulders. He was batting with Rohit Sharma.
They didn't try to be heroes. They just... batted.
Laxman, the artist, pushed singles. Rohit, the talent, nudged twos.
They survived.
They took the score to 90 for 3. It was slow, but it was stable.
And then, Rohit played a tired, lazy shot and was caught at cover for 30.
90 for 4.
The team needed 65 runs from 30 balls.
The first ball after the time-out, Pollock ran in and bowled that same, perfect, fourth-stump line.
Laxman, who had been defending it all day, shuffled. He gave himself room, his feet a dancer's, and then... the wrists. He didn't just drive; he unfurled. It was the famous, magical, VVS Laxman inside-out lofted drive.
The ball soared over extra-cover, a shot of pure, arrogant grace.
SIX.
The DC dugout—Gilchrist, Symonds, Robin Singh—leapt to their feet.
That was the shot. That was the moment.
It was like a switch had been flipped. Laxman, now in his element, was untouchable. He and Styris went on a rampage.
Laxman finished 55 not out.
Styris, at the other end, hit the winning runs.
Result: DC WON. By 6 wickets.
The dressing room was not a party. It was a hospital ward that had just seen a patient's heart restart. It was pure, unadulterated relief.
As the team celebrated, Laxman walked over to Siddanth, who was quietly packing the water bottles.