12th Man to Cricket Legend

Chapter 127: THE HOMECOMING 2 (2837 words)



Author's Note:šŸ†

Hey everyone! Before we jump into today's chapter, I just wanted to say a massive thank you for reading. Your votes, comments, and support mean the world to me. Happy reading! šŸ’–

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If you like the story, remember to give a review. It'll motivate me to continue with same passion āœŒļøšŸ˜

And, Extra love to some readers who are supporting me ā¤ļø

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The lights of the Wankhede seemed to pulse in time with the collective heartbeat of thirty-three thousand people.

The salt from the Arabian Sea didn't just linger in the air. It coated the lips of the players, a briny reminder of the grit required to survive a Mumbai night.

As Albie Morkel took his position at the non-striker's end, the scoreboard flickered with a haunting brilliance: 142/5.

The equation was simple yet terrifying:

46 runs, 36 balls, and only the bowlers left to walk.

But the man standing at the crease made that equation feel like a mere formality.

Rocky Rudra stood on 92* off 31 balls. He was a silhouette of lean, biomechanical efficiency.

The sweat made his wiry frame glisten like polished obsidian, and his dark mullet was a damp shadow against the white of his collar.

He didn't look at the scoreboard. He didn't look at the crowd.

Instead, he was focusing at Pawan Suyal, who was beginning his stride for the 15th over.

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Over 15.

14.1 Ball

Suyal, desperately trying to find the block-hole, missed his intended length by a fraction of an inch, delivering a high-velocity half-volley. Rudra didn't just hit it, he detonated it. Utilizing his immense core strength and a terrifyingly rapid bat-swing, he stayed low and forcefully carved the ball over long-on.

The sound was visceral—a sharp, metallic crack that echoed cleanly off the concrete tiers.

The ball sailed clean over the stadium's cantilevered roof, disappearing into the humid Mumbai night toward Marine Drive.

SIX RUNS.

Shoaib Akhtar: (Yelling into his headset, his voice cracking with pure adrenaline) "OH! THAT IS GONE! Bhul jao boundary ko, yaara! Someone check if that ball hit a ship out in the harbor! Suyal missed his length by a single millimeter, and Rudra has just punished him like he was a schoolboy. The aggression from this larka is silent, but it is absolute!"

Alan Wilkins: "98! He's on ninety-eight off just thirty-two balls! A mere two runs away from a century that will be talked about for decades. The entire Wankhede is on its feet, Harsha. They know exactly what's coming!"

14.2 Ball

Suyal went for the wide line, hoping to drag the teenager into a fatal mistake. But the young man was steps ahead of the plan. He stepped across his stumps, his head remaining perfectly still in a textbook Ricky Ponting posture.

With a fluid, high-elbow cover drive, he sent the ball screaming through the vacant gap between cover and mid-off.

The ball seemed to explode against the advertising boards.

FOUR RUNS.

Harsha Bhogle: (Voice pitching high with absolute, ecstatic incredulity) "A century for the ages! One hundred and two runs off just thirty-three deliveries! Just look at the stadium, Alan. Listen to the absolute cascade of noise! They are wearing navy blue, they want Mumbai to win, but they are chanting his name in unison. Why? Because before he was a global star, he was their son! He is the boy from Azad Maidan who used to ride the local trains with his heavy kit bag, dreaming of this very moment. Today, the Wankhede isn't just watching a player. They are watching their own history come to life!"

Sunil Gavaskar: (Voice rich with deep, technical authority) "The sheer technical brilliance of that drive... the weight transfer was instantaneous, Harsha. And he didn't even celebrate. Look at him—just a small, muted thumbs-up to the dugout, a quick fist-bump with Albie Morkel, and he's right back in his stance. That is the mark of a man who isn't finished. He's not playing for the hundred tonight. He's playing for the two points.

In the RCB dugout, Virat Kohli was a whirlwind of uncontained kinetic energy.

He leaned precariously over the steel railing, pumping his fists violently and screaming words of encouragement that were completely lost in the deafening roar of the crowd.

He even pointed emphatically at Rudra, then slapped his own chest, instructing the teenager to stay right there until the very end to finish it.

14.3 Ball

Suyal, visibly shaken and searching for answers, managed to find a pinpoint yorker-length delivery on the fourth stump line. Rudra jammed his bat down instantly, his wrists fully absorbing the massive shock of the ball. The leather trickled safely to point.

No run.

A rare moment of absolute silence followed by a collective gasp from the crowd.

14.4 Ball

Knowing Suyal was desperately trying to squeeze him for hitting room, Rudra anticipated the short delivery perfectly. When it arrived, he didn't pull it with brute force.

Instead, he executed a delicate 'periscope' shot—rising gracefully on his toes and guiding the ball directly over the wicketkeeper's head with a hyper-flexible flick of the wrists.

The ball raced away to the third-man boundary.

FOUR RUNS.

Alan Wilkins: "The absolute audacity of the guy! He's playing with them now. He's taking the best-laid defensive plans of the Mumbai Indians and effortlessly turning them into a personal highlight moment."

14.5 Ball:

Suyal went back to his stock delivery, firing it in full and fast. Rudra expected the trajectory. He cleared his front leg out of the path, creating a massive hitting arc.

With a swing that was all whip and no drag, he smashed the ball brutally through mid-wicket.

The boundary fielder didn't even bother to move a step. He just watched the white blur flash past him.

FOUR RUNS.

14.6 Ball

The final ball was a well-disguised slower one. Rudra, recognizing the subtle change in pace mid-air, checked his shot expertly and dropped the ball softly into the vacant gap at cover.

He sprinted for the single, his wiry legs moving with the explosive speed of a track athlete. He slid his bat over the line, safely keeping the strike.

ONE RUN.

Harsha Bhogle: "Nineteen runs plundered from the over! The chase has been effectively, clinically dismantled under the lights. RCB are now 161 for 5, and the required run rate has completely plummeted. Rocky Rudra moves to 111 not out. It's like watching a master artist finish a masterpiece canvas while the house is on fire around him!"

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Over 16:

This over saw the return of Lasith Malinga.

The 'Slinga' was the final hope for Mumbai.

The atmosphere was stifling.

15.1 Ball:

Malinga went with his trademark yorker. It was aimed at the toes. Rudra, however, had practiced for this in the MI nets just a year ago.

He anticipated the dip, moved his front foot out of the way, and used his wrists to 'helicopter' the ball over deep square leg.

SIX RUNS.

Shoaib Akhtar: "He's doing it to Malinga! The greatest death bowler in the world, and this guy is treating his yorker like a warm-up delivery! 150 km/h, and it just goes into the stands. Look at Malinga's face—he's smiling because he knows he's seen something special."

15.2 Ball:

A low full toss. Rudra stayed deep in his crease and slapped it past extra cover. The timing was so pure the ball seemed to accelerate after it hit the turf.

FOUR RUNS.

15.3 Ball:

Malinga adjusted, bowling a slower bouncer. Rudra saw it early, pulled his weight back, and tapped it into the vacant mid-on area.

He and Morkel sprinted back for two, Rudra sliding into the crease with a cloud of dust.

TWO RUNS.

15.4 Ball:

A perfect yorker. This time, Malinga won. Rudra blocked it out.

15.5 Ball:

Another dot. A slower-ball wide of off. Rudra tried to cut it but missed.

He berated himself again, tapping his helmet.

15.6 Ball:

The final ball of the over was a quick single to mid-off. Rudra retained the strike once more.

ONE RUN.

___

IN THE COMMENTARY BOX

Alan Wilkins: "I am looking at the scoreboard and I simply cannot believe my eyes. At the end of the 14th, this looked like a Mumbai miracle. Two overs later, RCB need just 14 runs from 24 balls. Rocky Rudra is 124* off 43 balls. He has scored 71% of his team's runs tonight."

Sunny G: "It is a lone expedition of the highest order. He has silenced the Wankhede, yet somehow, he has made them fall in love with him all over again. He is eight runs away from the highest individual score of the season, but look at him—he's just checking his gloves, looking at the target. He really wants those 2 points for Bangalore."

Harsha Bhogle: "The 'Wolf' is at the door, and Mumbai has run out of locks. We are witnessing greatness, pure and simple. The salt, the sweat, the pressure... it all belongs to Rocky Rudra now."

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The 17th over began with the Wankhede Stadium suspended in a state of collective breath-holding.

The sea breeze had died down, leaving the air heavy, humid, and thick with the scent of salt and anticipation.

Jasprit Bumrah stood at the top of his mark, his face a mask of sweat-streaked concentration.

Across from him, Rocky Rudra tapped his bat twice, his eyes shielded by the peak of his helmet, looking utterly unfazed by the 188 target that now seemed like a distant memory.

Over 17: Bumrah to Rudra

16.1 Ball:

Bumrah steamed in, his arms a blur of unorthodox motion. He let go of a 149 km h thunderbolt aimed at the off-stump. In a fraction of a second—so fast the human eye struggled to track it.

Rudra shifted his grip. He didn't just play a shot. He performed an act of high-speed defiance.

He dropped to one knee and executed a reverse scoop, using the extreme pace to send the ball over the keeper's head and deep into the stands behind third man.

Shoaib Akhtar(on the air): "FUCK! WTF!! I am telling you, Alan, I would hate to bowl to this guy! He clearly has no respect for the speed. Anyone can play a scoop against a medium pacer, but to do that to a 149 km/h ball? My god, his reflexes are insane. He only committed to the shot when the ball was an inch away from him. That is some superhuman stuffs."

Alan Wilkins: "The Wankhede is in absolute disbelief! Look at the Mumbai Indians' fielders. They're just standing there with their hands on their hips. Rohit Sharma just turned away and muttering his classic, I think Indian classic phrase, 'Abe yaar...' He has no answers for this."

In the MI dugout, the cameras caught a rare sight.

Ricky Ponting and Sachin Tendulkar, two of the greatest minds to ever play the game, were sitting side-by-side.

Both were shaking their heads slowly, their eyes wide with the kind of disbelief usually reserved for magic tricks.

16.2 Ball:

A rattled Bumrah went back to his mark, his rhythm fractured. He decided to fight fire with fire. He sprinted in and delivered a vicious, throat-aimed bouncer that clocked in at a staggering 154 km/h.

It was a ball meant to intimidate, a ball meant to remind Rocky of his place.

But Rudra was already in position. He didn't duck. He just channeled the very man who had inspired his stance.

He swiveled on his back foot, his bat coming around in a perfect, horizontal arc—the signature Punter pull.

The ball met the middle of the willow with a sound like a gunshot, screaming over the mid-wicket boundary for another six.

Harsha Bhogle: "HE HAS DONE IT! That is instant punishment for Bumrah! 154 km/h sent into the second tier. And with that, Rocky Rudra has just broken his own record! 136 not out! He has surpassed the 132 he scored against Rajasthan Royals to claim the highest individual score of the season. He is rewriting the record books in front of our very eyes."

The crowd in the East Stand scrambled for the ball, trying to keep it for a photo as a souvenir of the night the "Wolf" conquered Mumbai.

Eventually, a fan threw it back, his face beaming with a strange pride for the boy who had once trained at the nearby Azad Maidan.

16.3 Ball:

Bumrah, looking completely drained, bowled a length ball. Rudra nudged it softly into the gap at mid-off. There was no hesitation at all.

He and Albie Morkel sprinted. They didn't just want the single. They sensed the finish. They turned for the second as the throw came in wide.

Rudra dove, his jersey staining with the red soil of the Wankhede, and crossed the line.

Alan Wilkins: "THEY'VE DONE IT! Royal Challengers Bangalore have won by five wickets with 21 balls to spare! A chase of 188 made to look like a Sunday afternoon stroll by one young man!"

(A/N: 3 chapters back to back. šŸ™)

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