Free Web NovelChapter 42: Chapter 42: North Zone VS South Zone, Finals!
[ you guys might have notice, that there are not much dialogues in the recent Chapter, sorry for that i’m kind of hurrying this MCA tournament, this Chapter 42, and next 43 will be last one where kabir is 8. we’ll go for time skip where kabir is 14 and will be playing in under-16 and under-19.]
The shrill, mechanical buzz of the alarm clock cut through the dark bedroom at exactly 5:00 AM.
Kabir’s hand darted out from under the bedsheet, his small fingers slamming the button down before the second ring could wake his parents. He sat up slowly, shaking the sleep from his eyes. The room was cold, the morning air holding that familiar Mumbai dampness before the traffic took over the streets.
As he swung his legs off the mattress and stood up, a sharp, dull ache radiated through his knees and ankles. His shins felt heavy, bruised from the long three days against East Zone at Azad Maidan. Kabir stood still for a second, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
Just the workload, he thought, rubbing his knees. An eight-year-old body isn’t used to this many overs.
He brushed the discomfort aside. He couldn’t afford to rest; today was the final.
Ten minutes later, Kabir was out on the society’s concrete jogging track. The building complex was dead quiet, save for the watchman sitting near the gate with a steaming steel glass of tea. Kabir started with a slow, deliberate jog. Every time his canvas shoes hit the hard ground, his joints protested, a reminder of the miles he had clocked over the week. He pushed through it, focusing entirely on his breathing.
After four laps, he stopped near the small patch of grass by the boundary wall to stretch. He went through his routine methodices—hamstrings, calves, and lower back—making sure his muscles relaxed before the long day ahead.
To flush out the stiffness, Kabir walked over to the society’s small swimming pool. The water was freezing as he slid in, making him gasp for air. He swam four quiet, steady laps, using the water’s resistance to soothe his aching legs. By the time he climbed out and dried himself, the heavy tightness in his joints had faded into a manageable, dull hum.
The smell of toasted bread and boiling milk filled the small kitchen when he walked back inside. His mother was standing by the stove, flipping an omelette, while his father sat at the wooden dining table, reading the morning newspaper.
Kabir sat down, and his mother immediately placed his plate in front of him: three boiled eggs, a small bowl of raw sprouts mixed with lime, and a tall steel glass of warm milk. It was the same strict, unexciting breakfast he ate every single morning.
His father lowered the newspaper, looking at Kabir over the top of the pages. "Today is the final, right?"
Kabir chewed his sprouts and nodded his head cleanly. "Yes."
"Who is it against?"
"South Zone," Kabir replied, before taking a sip of his milk.
His father let out a short, low whistle. "Ah. The rich kids from South Bombay." He folded the newspaper and placed it on the table. He reached across and gently creased his hand over Kabir’s short hair, his palm warm and rough. "Play well and just enjoy the game, Kabir. No matter the result."
"I will, Papa," Kabir said.
A small, content smile touched his lips as he looked down at his plate. In his past life, he had forgotten what it felt like to have a father sit across from him before a big match and tell him to just enjoy himself without the crushing weight of expectations. He had genuinely missed this.
The morning haze was burning off, revealing a pristine, green outfield. The North Zone boys were huddled tightly in a circle, their voices echoing over the quiet field. They had won the toss and chosen to bat first.
Kabir and his opening partner, Rohit, were already fully padded up, their helmets resting on their knees. The coach stood in the center of the huddle, his eyes scanning the boys.
"Listen to me," the coach said, his voice firm but calm. "We have plenty of time. It’s a multi-day final. Play sensible cricket. Do not give your wickets away in the first hour. Let the ball lose its shine."
Kabir nodded, buckling his helmet strap. He walked out to the middle, the weight of the bat familiar in his hands. He took his guard at leg stump, scratched a clean line into the crease, and waited.
The South Zone opening bowler, a tall, fast-medium bowler named Merchant, was polishing the brand-new ball against his pristine white trousers. He looked down at Kabir with an arrogant smirk, pacing back to his mark.
1.1
Merchant ran in hard and hit the deck. The ball flew off a length, angling into the stumps with sharp bounce. Kabir didn’t commit early. He stayed balanced on his back foot, keeping his hands soft as he dropped the bat vertically.
Tuck.
The ball hit the exact middle of the blade and dropped dead right at his toes. No run.
1.2
Merchant went wider of the crease, attempting to lure the young batsman into a drive outside off-stump. Kabir saw the wider line, kept his bat close to his pad, and simply lifted his arms, letting it carry through to the wicketkeeper. No run.
1.3
The third delivery was a fast, skidding ball right at the shins. Kabir didn’t panic. He pressed his front foot slightly forward, playing with a perfectly straight face, and punched it back down the pitch. Merchant had to dive in his follow-through to stop it. No run.
1.4
Merchant tried a yorker on the middle stump. Kabir’s reflexes were completely sharp. He squeezed the bat down just in time, the ball hitting the toe end with a dry clack. It stopped dead in the crease. No run.
1.5
Seeing Kabir’s absolute defense, Merchant grew impatient. He slammed a bouncer into the turf. Because of Kabir’s short height, the ball rose high over his head, swinging wildly into the keeper’s gloves. Kabir didn’t even flinch; he just ducked under it smoothly. No run.
1.6
The final ball of the opening over. Merchant delivered a fuller ball on off-stump, searching for late swing. Kabir leaned forward, his head perfectly over the ball, and presented a broad, defensive face.
Thock.
It was a textbook defensive block straight back to the bowler. Merchant snatched the ball and gave Kabir a dirty look. Kabir just tapped the crease, his score reading zero, but his defense was unbreachable.
The match ground on, and the South Zone bowlers kept up a tight, disciplined line. Wickets were hard to come by, but runs were equally scarce. Rohit was struggling to clear the infield, and Kabir was focused entirely on protecting his wicket.
By the 10th over, the sun was hot, and the outfield was completely dry. Kabir had been blocking everything, his score moving slowly.
10.3
The first-change bowler, an off-spinner named Kapadia, came into the attack. He floated a slower ball outside off-stump. Kabir didn’t try to smash it. He waited for the ball to turn, soft-pushed it down toward short cover with a relaxed grip, and immediately called out, "Yes, Rohit! One!"
They crossed quickly, Kabir picking up a sensible, low-risk single to rotate the strike and keep the scoreboard moving.
As the afternoon approached, Kabir began to read the pitch perfectly. He had faced nearly eighty balls now, and his eyes were completely adjusted to the pace and bounce. By the 14th over, Merchant was brought back into the attack to break the partnership. But Kabir was no longer just defending; he was completely comfortable.
14.1
Merchant bowled a fast, back-of-a-length delivery outside off-stump. Kabir didn’t hesitate. He shifted his weight to his back foot, extended his arms, and executed a fierce, cracking square cut.
Ping!
The ball flew between point and cover, hitting the boundary boards before the fielder could even turn around. Four runs.
14.2
Visibly shaken, Merchant tried to correct his line by bowling straight on the stumps. But it was a fraction too full. Kabir leaned into the shot, his front knee bent beautifully, and played a flawless, textbook straight drive right past the non-striker. The mid-on fielder didn’t even bother to run. Four more runs.
14.3
The South Zone captain was shouting from mid-off, telling Merchant to calm down. Merchant ran in furiously and dug it short, aiming for Kabir’s ribcage. Kabir anticipated the short ball. He stood tall, rolled his wrists over the top of the handle, and pulled it cleanly through the vacant square-leg region. The ball bounced twice before crossing the rope. Three consecutive boundaries. The North Zone dugout was up on its feet, cheering loudly.
Kabir was now sitting on 47 runs off 97 balls. A half-century was just three runs away, and he looked entirely untouchable.
16.4
Kapadia was back from the opposite end. He delivered a standard, harmless length ball on the fourth-stump line. It had no real pace, no turn, and no threat. It was the exact type of delivery Kabir had been leaving alone or blocking all morning. But for a split second, a lapse in concentration clouded his mind. The temptation to reach his fifty with a big shot took over.
Instead of letting it pass or playing a safe single, Kabir threw his hands at the ball, trying to pull it from well outside off-stump. His wrists rolled too early, and his feet didn’t move.
The ball caught a thick, top edge. It flew high into the dry afternoon air, hanging lazily over the infield before dropping cleanly into the waiting hands of the short mid-wicket fielder.
"Caught!" the South Zone players screamed, swarming the fielder in celebration.
Kabir stood frozen in the center of the pitch, his bat still raised in the air. A wave of intense, sickening frustration rushed through his chest. It wasn’t a magic delivery that had beaten him; it was his own terrible shot selection on a completely useless ball. He slammed the side of his pad with his bat in pure anger, his face burning red. He turned and walked back to the pavilion, utterly furious with himself for throwing away his wicket on 47.
The rest of the North Zone batting lineup found the going incredibly tough after his departure. Rohit managed to grind out a tough 62, and the lower-order tailenders chipped in with gritty, small partnerships to keep the team alive. By the time the umpires looked at their watches and called stumps at the end of Day 1, North Zone had fought their way to 332/9.
The second morning started with a clear sky and a fresh breeze. North Zone’s final wicket fell within the first ten minutes without adding a run, leaving South Zone with a first-innings target of 333 to take the lead.
The captain handed Kabir the brand-new match ball. Kabir walked to the top of his seven-step mark, his fingers gripping the prominent, hard seam tightly.
The South Zone opening batsman, a confident boy named Saxena, took his guard.
1.1
Kabir ran in with a smooth, rhythmic stride. He released the ball with a high-arm action, hitting the classic length spot just outside off-stump. As Saxena prodded forward to defend, the ball swung away sharply through the air, completely missing the outside edge.
"Beautiful, Kabir! Keep it there!" Rohit shouted from second slip.
1.2
Kabir hit the exact same length spot on the dirt. He adjusted his wrist position slightly at the release, making the ball look identical through the air. Saxena stayed back, playing for the outswing, but the ball skidded straight through without moving, hitting him hard on the front pad.
"Howzat!" Kabir appealed, but the umpire shook his head, signaling it was sliding past leg stump.
1.3
Kabir went back to his primary plan, targeting the same spot. The ball bit into the pitch and zipped away late, beating Saxena’s defensive push yet again.
1.4
Another perfect length delivery outside off. Saxena, growing nervous, poked his bat out tentatively, squeezing it safely to point. No run.
1.5
Kabir ran in, his arm coming over perfectly. He pitched it a fraction fuller on that same length spot. Saxena, tired of the continuous dot balls, lunged forward to drive it forcefully through the covers. The ball swung away late at the absolute last microsecond, catching a thick outside edge.
Clack.
The ball flew fast and low to the right of second slip. Rohit dove horizontally, catching the leather cleanly just inches above the grass.
"YES! Gone!" the team erupted, swarming Kabir and ruffling his hair.
1.6
The new batsman walked out to the middle. Kabir didn’t change his strategy. He bowled a fast, full outswinger right on the off-stump line, forcing a heavy defensive block back to the bowler. A spectacular wicket-maiden over to start the innings.
Kabir was kept on for a grueling six-over opening spell. The South Zone middle order tried to counter-attack his later overs, taking some risks to score 35 runs off his spell. But Kabir’s relentless accuracy paid off in his fourth over. He set up their number three batsman with three consecutive outswingers on that same length spot, before unleashing a classic, straight arm-ball. The ball kept low, sliding under the bat and trapping the batsman dead straight in front of the stumps for his second wicket.
After Kabir was rested, the South Zone middle order consolidated. They batted with extreme caution, using the flat nature of the afternoon pitch to accumulate runs steadily. The North Zone spinners bowled tight lines, but the South Zone batsmen used their feet well to negate the spin.
By the time the sun dipped low behind the stadium stands and the umpires called an end to Day 2, South Zone had fought their way to 289 all out, giving North Zone a slim but crucial 43-run first-innings lead.
