The Indian Premier League's inaugural league stage didn't end with a whimper; it ended with the rhythmic, thumping bassline of a Hyderabad stadium chanting one name.
The Deccan Chargers, the team written off after the first week, had become the juggernaut of the tournament. The final five matches of the league phase were a blur of travel, humidity, and high-octane cricket. They weren't unbeaten—they lost a close one to Delhi and a fatigue-induced slump against Kolkata—but they won the ones that mattered.
They crushed Bangalore again. They decimated Mumbai in the return leg. And in the final league match, a dead-rubber against Chennai, Siddanth had been rested, watching from the dugout as Gilchrist pulverised the CSK attack to secure the 2nd spot on the table.
The Final Standings:
Rajasthan Royals (20 Pts) – The fairy tale. Warne's army of underdogs.
Deccan Chargers (18 Pts) – The powerhouse. The resurrection.
Kings XI Punjab (16 Pts) – Yuvraj's flair and Marsh's dominance.
Chennai Super Kings (16 Pts) – Dhoni's tactical machine, scraping in.
But the story of the league wasn't the table. It was the "MVP" leader-board.
Siddanth Deva.
Matches Played: 10
Runs Scored: 410
Strike Rate: 210.4
Wickets Taken: 17
Economy: 6.8
He was in the top 10 for the Orange Cap. He was in the top 5 for the Purple Cap. He was the solitary definition of the term "All-Rounder."
Siddanth looked at the stats sheet in the hotel room and nodded. Efficiency.
The 17-year-old in his heart looked at the newspaper headlines—"PRINCE OF HYDERABAD", "THE 72-LAKH STEAL"—and grinned.
---
The playoffs were scheduled for Mumbai: the Wankhede Stadium and the DY Patil Stadium. The team had a three-day break before the semi-final clash against Kings XI Punjab.
The Park Hyatt lobby in Hyderabad was a frenzy as the team prepared to depart. Fans were camped outside, screaming for autographs.
Siddanth sat in the lounge, his iPhone buzzing. It was Arjun.
"Sid! Did you see the valuations?" Arjun's voice was breathless. "The pundits are saying if there was a mega-auction today, you'd go for 5 Crores. Minimum."
Siddanth chuckled, sipping his green tea. "Valuations are paper, Arri. Never trust them."
"Speaking of stocks," Arjun lowered his voice, his tone shifting to business. "I checked the portfolio. Unitech is up another 15%. DLF is flying. You're... you're sitting on a goldmine, man. How did you know?"
"Market sentiment," Siddanth lied smoothly. "Just riding the bubble, Arri. We hold. Until August."
He hung up as Robin Singh clapped his hands.
"Right! Bus! Mumbai! Let's go win a trophy."
The flight to Mumbai was different. There was no music. No pranks. The "party animal" Herschelle Gibbs was reading a book on psychology. Gilchrist was staring out the window, his eyes hard.
This was business.
They checked into the Trident Hotel at Nariman Point. The view of the Arabian Sea was spectacular, but nobody cared.
They were here for one thing.
---
Date: May 30, 2008.
Venue: Wankhede Stadium, Mumbai.
The Deccan Chargers squad gathered in the team room at the Trident. A massive projector screen took up one wall. Dinner was served—lean proteins, salads, hydration fluids.
Tonight, they were spectators. They were watching their potential final opponents.
Rajasthan Royals (1st) vs. Chennai Super Kings (4th).
It was the narrative dream. Shane Warne, the magician captain who had turned a team of nobodies into table-toppers, against MS Dhoni, the Captain Cool of India.
"Who do we want?" Rohit Sharma asked, balancing a plate of pasta on his knees.
"Chennai," RP Singh said instantly. "We beat them last time. We know how to bowl to Hayden."
"No," Siddanth said, his voice quiet from the back of the room.
Everyone turned to him.
"We want Rajasthan," Siddanth said. "To be the best, you have to beat the best. Warne is the puzzle we need to solve."
Gilchrist grinned. "I like the way you think, mate. But let's see if Dhoni has a plan for the Wizard."
The Match Begins.
Warne won the toss and elected to field. "Chase in a semi-final. Put the pressure on them," the commentator noted.
Chennai started well. Too well.
Parthiv Patel and Stephen Fleming put on 50 in 6 overs.
Then, Warne brought himself on.
On the big screen, Siddanth watched the master at work. Warne didn't just bowl; he conducted an orchestra. He moved a fielder three meters to the left. He had a word with the batsman. He slowed the game down.
Ball 1: Flighted leg-break. Fleming drives.
Ball 2: Flatter. Fleming cuts.
Ball 3: The slider. Fleming plays for spin. The ball skids on. Plumb LBW.
The DC room erupted in appreciation. "He's still got it," Styris muttered.
But Chennai had depth. Suresh Raina came in and played a blinder. He smashed Warne inside-out over cover. He pulled Watson.
Then, Dhoni walked in at the death.
The final five overs were carnage. Dhoni and Albie Morkel took the Rajasthan attack apart. Morkel hit three sixes in the 19th over.
Chennai Super Kings finished on 185 for 5.
"That's a big score in a semi," Laxman noted. "Pressure on the Royals."
The Chase.
Rajasthan's chase was a disaster at the start.
Graeme Smith, out for 5.
Swapnil Asnodkar, out for 10.
25 for 2.
Shane Watson, the burly Australian, and Yusuf Pathan, the Baroda bomber, were at the crease.
What followed was violence.
Yusuf Pathan didn't care about the field. He didn't care about the situation. He faced Muralitharan, the world's greatest bowler.
Murali tossed it up.
Yusuf cleared his front leg and slog-swept him over the roof of the Wankhede.
"That is out of the pincode!" Ravi Shastri screamed on the commentary.
Watson was surgical. He targeted the medium pacers.
The partnership grew. 50. 100.
110 runs in 10 overs.
Chennai panicked. Dhoni brought back Makhaya Ntini.
Yusuf hit him for three fours in an over.
The equation: 20 runs needed off 12 balls.
Watson fell, caught in the deep.
18 runs off 10 balls.
Shane Warne walked out. The captain.
The final over. 8 runs needed.
Manpreet Gony, the CSK find of the season, had the ball.
Ball 1: Yusuf Pathan takes a single.
Ball 2: Warne on strike. 7 off 5.
Gony bowls a length ball.
Warne, 38 years old, retired from international cricket, shuffled across. He didn't slog. He used his wrists. He flicked it, aerially, over square leg.
It plugged in the outfield. They ran two.
5 off 4.
Ball 3: Warne steps out. He smashes it straight back past the bowler.
FOUR.
The Rajasthan dugout was screaming.
1 run to win.
Warne tapped the next ball to point and ran a single with his arms raised before he even reached the crease.
Rajasthan Royals Won by 3 wickets.
The DC team room was silent. They had just watched a masterclass in chasing under pressure.
"Well," Gilchrist said, standing up and stretching. "Looks like we've got a date with the Royals. Assuming we get past Punjab."
"We will," Siddanth said.
---
Date: May 31, 2008.
Venue: Wankhede Stadium, Mumbai.
The narrative for the second semi-final was entirely different. If RR vs. CSK was Strategy vs. Tactics, this was Fire vs. Fire.
Kings XI Punjab was the team of flair. Yuvraj Singh. Kumar Sangakkara. Mahela Jayawardene. And bowling for them... Brett Lee.
The media had a field day.
"THE APPRENTICE VS. THE MASTER."
"DEVA'S PACE VS. LEE'S FURY."
On the bus ride to the stadium, Siddanth listened to music, blocking out the noise. He visualized Brett Lee. The real one.
He had faced him once, in the league stage, scoring a single. But today... today was different.
Today, Siddanth was bowling consistently at 152kph. He was arguably faster than the 2008 version of Lee because of his speed.
The Wankhede was packed. The sea of blue (for Deccan) and red (for Punjab) was a vibrant mosaic.