The IPL season concluded for Rising Pune Supergiants with the Eliminator loss, leaving a hollow ache in Aarav that transcended mere defeat. Having graduated from college with a secure job offer (whose onboarding date still afforded him time), he no longer had the immediate academic grind. The whirlwind of professional cricket was replaced by a familiar routine, but one now centered around dedicated, private practice sessions with Coach Reddy.
He still went to the nets, driven by habit and a residual passion, but his practice sessions were no longer the focused, exhilarating engagements they had been. The sting of that Eliminator performance, particularly his Powerplay overs where he conceded 15 and 11 runs respectively, gnawed at him. He could perfectly visualize Warner's drives, the ball sailing to the boundary. Even the triumph of Yuvraj's wicket in the 17th over felt tainted by the earlier expense. During drills, his mind would wander. He'd find himself replaying those specific deliveries, questioning his line, his length, his decision-making. I could have bowled that better. Why did I go so full? Why did I try that variation then?
This internal monologue, a constant replay of his perceived failures, bled into his practice with Coach Reddy. His once sharp focus was dulled. Deliveries that used to hit the mark now drifted. His concentration would waver, his energy dipping as frustration mounted. He would often end sessions feeling more disheartened than invigorated, the weight of his own high expectations a crushing burden.
Coach Reddy, with his keen, unblinking eye, noticed the shift immediately. He saw the fire in Aarav's eyes dim slightly, replaced by a brooding introspection. One afternoon, after a particularly disjointed net session where Aarav bowled a flurry of untidy overs, Coach Reddy called him aside, away from the chatter of the other bowlers at the private academy.
"You're not here, Aarav," Coach said, his voice quiet but firm, his gaze piercing. "Your body is here, but your mind is still stuck on the Eliminator. Still reliving those early overs, aren't you?"
Aarav flinched, surprised by the coach's accurate perception. He nodded, unable to meet his gaze. "Yes, Coach. I just... I was so expensive. I feel like I let the team down, especially after all the chances I got."
Coach Reddy leaned against the net, his expression softening slightly. "Listen to me, Aarav. Every single player who steps onto that field faces failure. Every single one. Even the legends. Do you think Sachin Tendulkar never got out for a duck? Do you think Dale Steyn never went for runs, never had an off-day?" He paused, letting the names sink in. "The difference isn't that they never failed. The difference is how they responded."
He continued, his voice resonating with years of experience. "Look at Zaheer Khan. He had phases where he was inconsistent, where he struggled with injuries, where he was expensive. But he worked, he adapted, he came back stronger, and he became a World Cup winner. Or look at Dale Steyn himself. He has bowled many a brutal spell, but he also had days when batsmen got on top. It's how he channeled that aggression, how he always looked for the wicket on the next ball, no matter what happened on the last, that made him formidable."
Coach Reddy placed a hand on Aarav's shoulder. "Failures are not the end, Aarav. They are part of the journey. They teach you. But how you bounce back from them, how you learn and grow, how you push past that disappointment and find your rhythm again – that is where character is forged, and true potential is revealed. Don't let a few expensive overs define your entire season. Learn from them, yes. Obsess over them, no. What matters is the next ball, the next session, the next match."
Aarav looked up, the coach's words cutting through the fog of his self-reproach. The examples resonated deeply, particularly that of Zaheer Khan, and especially Dale Steyn, his favorite bowler. The shame didn't vanish instantly, but the path forward suddenly seemed clearer. The fire within him flickered, stirred not by anger, but by a renewed challenge – the challenge of resilience.