Cricket Ascend System

Chapter 1: The Boy Everyone Laughed At

Sunday mornings in Riverside Gully belonged to cricket.

Not school.

Not homework.

Not family errands.

Cricket.

The narrow lane behind Shastri Market transformed every weekend into something much bigger than it had any right to be. Rusted scooters became boundary markers. Chalk lines became creases. Balcony railings became VIP stands.

Every wall carried scars from years of tennis-ball cricket.

Broken windows.

Paint marks.

Ball dents.

Memories.

To outsiders, Riverside Gully looked chaotic.

To the boys growing up there—

it was a stadium.

A battlefield. freewebnσvel.cѳm

A dream.

Respect in Riverside Gully came fast.

One match-winning innings could make you famous for months.

One dropped catch could destroy your reputation forever.

Unfortunately for Sahil Choudhary...

people already knew his name for the wrong reasons.

"Teams final?" Ravi Mehta shouted while bouncing the taped tennis ball against the cement.

The boys gathered near Sharma Electronics immediately.

Arguments started as usual.

"Sameer gets first pick again?"

"They won last Sunday!"

"So what?"

"Bas karo yaar!"

Nobody actually cared about fairness.

The match would happen anyway.

Sameer Malik stepped forward confidently, chewing gum lazily.

At seventeen, Sameer already ruled Riverside Gully cricket.

Calm batter.

Sharp captain.

Dangerous bowler.

The type of player who never looked nervous.

"Ravi."

"Arjun."

"Imran." frёewebηovel.cѳm

"Danish."

The strongest players disappeared one after another.

Sahil stood quietly near the wall holding his old bat.

Nobody looked toward him.

Nobody wanted to.

Finally Ravi sighed.

"...Sahil."

Laughter erupted instantly.

"At least now we know who’s fielding near the drain."

"Bas catch mat drop karna."

"Bro got selected because teams need eleven players."

Sahil forced a weak smile.

But the words still hurt.

Because deep down—

he agreed with them.

He wasn’t good.

Not really.

He occasionally hit hard.

But mostly?

He panicked.

Swung blindly.

Missed straight balls.

Dropped catches.

Whenever matches became serious—

Sahil disappeared.

That was his reputation.