12th Man to Cricket Legend

Author’s Note:🏆

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! 💖

.

.

.

If you like the story, remember to give a review. It’ll motivate me to continue with same passion ✌️😁

And, Extra love to some readers who are supporting me ❤️

******

The date was the 28th of May, 2014. Though the skies above Kolkata had cleared, the hallowed turf of Eden Gardens remained a vast, humming crucible.

The air hung heavy—a dense, humid blanket thick with the scent of rain-washed grass and the rich, spicy aroma of Kathi rolls drifting across from the bustling perimeter stalls.

High overhead, the towering banks of floodlights hummed with a low, electrical vibration, casting a brilliant, almost celestial glow over an outfield that gleamed like an emerald lake under the stadium lights.

Thousands upon thousands of fans had flooded through the wrought-iron gates since the late afternoon, creating a deafening, kaleidoscopic tide of RCB crimson-and-gold and KXIP silver. The atmosphere vibrated with a nervous, high-frequency electricity.

This was no ordinary fixture.

This was a violent collision between the two most destructive batting line-ups of the season, a clash where legacies would be forged in fire.

____

The Road to the Reckoning: A Season in Review

Before the live broadcast cameras cut down to the sun-baked 22 yards, the giant studio monitors flickered to life, plunging the roaring stadium into a retrospective montage of the season’s most violent milestones:

The Blitz at Delhi: Nineteen-year-old Rocky Rudra exploding out of the blocks with a mind-bending 12-ball fifty, a record-shattering statement that instantly announced his arrival to the world and set the blueprint for his 787-run rampage.

The Wankhede Masterclass: That scorched-earth 138 off 46 deliveries against Mumbai, where Rocky stood unyielding amidst a shower of red soil—a lone, predatory wolf in the heart of a hostile city.

The Hyderabad Partnership: Chris Gayle’s brutal 75 off 35 balls paired with Rocky’s masterclass in tactical stabilization (69), proving to the league that RCB’s terrifying top order could conquer any surface, sticky or flat.

The Ghost of the Reckoning: The haunting memory of the rain-slicked blue tarpaulins spread across this very ground just six days prior—a cruel twist of nature that delayed the ultimate showdown and left millions of fans suspended in agonizing, breathless anticipation.

The montage faded to black, leaving only the pulsing bass of the stadium speakers.

The stage was set. Qualifier 1 had finally arrived.

____

The Toss: Qualifier 1

The camera cut straight to the center of the pitch. The grass had been trimmed to a precise millimeter, making the central strip look like a hard, pale slab of polished marble.

Ravi Shastri stood at the mark, microphone gripped firm in his fist, his voice booming effortlessly over the deafening roar of 66,000 expectant fans. Beside him stood match referee Javagal Srinath and the two team captains.

Virat Kohli looked razor-sharp—his jaw set, his eyes locked onto the pitch with intense focus. Opposite him, George Bailey wore his trademark wide grin, though a distinct flicker of competitive steel lurked behind his relaxed demeanor.

Ravi Shastri: “Welcome to the absolute business end of the Pepsi IPL 2014! We are live from the iconic Eden Gardens in Kolkata for Qualifier 1! The table-toppers, Royal Challengers Bangalore, lock horns with the marauding Kings XI Punjab! Virat has the coin in hand… George to call!”

Virat flipped the heavy gold coin high into the humid Kolkata night.

It caught the floodlights, glittering like a spinning spark.

George Bailey: “Tails!”

The coin hit the dry surface, skidded, and settled flat. Javagal Srinath leaned down, glanced at the face, and pointed directly at the RCB captain.

Ravi Shastri: “Heads it is! Virat, you’ve won the toss! Welcome to the playoffs, mate. It’s been a mind-boggling, historic run for your boys—12 wins, 1 loss, 1 no-result, and an unbelievable +3.15 Net Run Rate. What’s the decision tonight?”

The stadium erupted into a deafening chant—”KOHLI! KOHLI! KOHLI!”—that reverberated through the stands, forcing the RCB skipper to pause for a second.

He adjusted his red cap, his expression completely locked in.

Virat Kohli: “We’re gonna have a bowl first, Ravi. Look, it’s a massive game, high pressure, and we know the dew factor here at Eden can play a big role as the night goes on. We really want to have a clear target in front of us and know exactly what we’re chasing. The pitch looks hard, looks fantastic for batting, but we trust our chasing abilities completely. As far as the side goes, we’re playing the exact same XI. Unchanged.”

Shastri nodded, then turned the microphone toward the Kings XI Punjab skipper as Kohli exchanged a firm, respectful handshake with Bailey before jogging back toward the dugout.

Ravi Shastri: “George, you’ve seen the sheer destruction of Chris Gayle and Rocky Rudra right through this tournament. How are you feeling about getting set to bat first?”

George Bailey: “Honestly, Ravi, we were actually looking to have a bat anyway! In a big-stage Qualifier like this, putting a solid score on the board and forcing the opposition to chase in a pressure cooker is always a great place to be. If we can put up a big total for our bowlers to defend, we’ll give ourselves a real crack. Look, we know the size of the challenge—RCB have been the standout side of the tournament—but the boys are buzzing and raring to go. We’re unchanged tonight as well.”

As both captains walked off toward their respective dressing rooms, Shastri turned directly to the main broadcast camera, his eyes sparkling with signature excitement.

Ravi Shastri: “There you have it, ladies and gentlemen! The toss is locked in, the pitch is set, and the atmosphere inside Eden Gardens is absolute magic! It is the sheer, unadulterated firepower of RCB’s Big Four against the relentless attacking brand of George Bailey’s men! Do not tune away, because the ‘City of Joy’ is about to witness a cricket match for the ages! Let the battles begin!”

The broadcast cut smoothly to the glowing tournament bracket on screen:

PEPSI IPL 2014: QUALIFIER 1

Royal Challengers Bangalore vs Kings XI Punjab

Venue: Eden Gardens, Kolkata

RCB won the toss and elected to BOWL first

…

The Eden Gardens stadium was a pulsating organism of light and sound.

Under the colossal floodlights, the humidity was so thick it felt like a physical weight, carrying the pungent, metallic scent of the rain-dampened covers that had only recently been pulled back.

The outfield was a vibrant, glistening emerald, still holding beads of moisture that promised to make the ball zip.

In the middle, the atmosphere was pressurized.

Sixty-six thousand fans created a wall of white noise, a rhythmic thunder that vibrated through the soles of the players’ shoes.

The red soil of the pitch, hardened and prepared for a high-stakes battle, stood out against the green grass like a stage waiting for its lead actors.

____

Virender Sehwag strolled out to a deafening roar, his casual, unhurried gait belying the suffocating tension of a high-stakes Qualifier. Beside him walked young Manan Vohra, glancing upward at the towering concrete stands of Eden Gardens.

Across the turf stood Virat Kohli, his face a complete mask of hyper-focused aggression as he marshaled his troops into position.

Danny Morrison: “Ooooh, look at this, Bumble! Look at the swagger! Virat Kohli is not here to play nicey-nice tonight, oh no! Two slips and a gully packed in tight for the Sultan of Multan! He can smell blood in the water, Danni boy!”

David ‘Bumble’ Lloyd: “He’s right in his ear, isn’t he, Danny?! Absolute classic Kohli! And have a look at the lad standing at first slip—young Rocky Rudra. My word, he looks like he’s carved out of solid granite! Not blinking, dead still, staring right through him. Waiting for one little mistake!”

Bhuvneshwar Kumar stood at the top of his mark. He adjusted the seam, the ball feeling cool and tacky in his hand. He sprinted in, his action as smooth as silk.

0.1: Bhuvneshwar to Sehwag — NO RUN

Bhuvi unleashed a pristine out-swinger right on a length. Sehwag leaned forward for a classic, languid drive, but the ball nibbled away late off the seam, beating the outside edge by a fraction.

A collective gasp rippled through the stands.

From first slip and extra cover, Rocky and Virat clapped loudly in unison, their voices echoing over the pitch: “Lovely, Bhuvi! Beautiful line! Keep it right there!”

0.2: Bhuvneshwar to Sehwag

Bhuvi tightened his line, bowling slightly fuller. The ball naturally tailed in late, cramping Sehwag for room as the veteran pushed it defensively toward cover.

No run.

The pressure inside the stadium was becoming a physical force. Sehwag, never one to tolerate being tied down, subtly adjusted his grip on the handle.

0.3: Bhuvneshwar to Sehwag

Bhuvi delivered a masterpiece—a ball that started on the middle-stump line and moved just enough to kiss the outside edge of Sehwag’s bat. It was a thick edge, flying low and fast to the right of the first slip.

Rocky Rudra exploded before anyone could even register the motion.

With a reflex that seemed to defy physics, he dived full-length to his right, his hand snatching the white ball inches from the turf.

He held it firm as his shoulder hit the ground, rolling over and springing back to his feet in one fluid motion.

Ravi Shastri: “HE HAS TAKEN IT! UNBELIEVABLE! ROCKY RUDRA HAS SNATCHED A BLINDER AT FIRST SLIP! THE SULTAN IS GONE FOR A DUCK! EDEN GARDENS HAS ABSOLUTELY EXPLODED!”

David ‘Bumble’ Lloyd: “Start the car! Have you ever seen anything like that?! That is pure, unadulterated instinct! He was down like a flash of lightning! And look at him—he’s fired that ball into the turf with proper venom!”

Rocky didn’t waste breath on theatrical screaming. He simply stood tall, his jaw set, casting a cold, unblinking glare at Sehwag’s retreating back before hurling the ball firmly into the pitch.

Within a second, Virat Kohli arrived like a storm of pure adrenaline, grabbing Rocky’s red jersey and roaring straight into the humid night sky.

The entire RCB unit swarmed around Rocky, a pulsing huddle of red and gold surging with raw, unbridled energy.

Punjab was 0/1 after just 3 balls.

…

The heavy silence hanging over the Kings XI Punjab supporters was broken only by the jubilant, chest-thumping “RCB! RCB!” chants that seemed to vibrate the very foundations of Eden Gardens.

Wriddhiman Saha trotted out to the middle, his face pale under the glare of the floodlights, brushing past a completely speechless Sehwag trudging back toward the dugout.

Bhuvneshwar Kumar calmly finished his masterpiece of an over with clinical precision, conceding not a single run.

A maiden over… crowned with the wicket of the Sultan. It was an absolute nightmare start for Punjab.

…

In the fourth over, Mitchell Starc was thrown back into the attack.

The scent of ozone and raw intimidation seemed to follow the Australian left-arm speedster as he paced back to his mark.

He looked terrifyingly menacing, his long, powerful strides eating up the turf as he steamed in from the High Court End.

Harsha Bhogle: “This is serious, high-velocity stuff from Mitchell Starc. Young Manan Vohra out there looks like he’s trying to survive an absolute avalanche. The radar is flashing… that ball is hovering right around 148 kilometers per hour. You cannot blink against this sort of pace.”

3.4: Starc to Vohra

Starc delivered a searing, toe-crushing yorker that tailed in viciously late toward the leg-stump. Vohra, frantically trying to clear his front leg to carve out some breathing room, was completely and utterly undone by the sheer, terrifying velocity.

The ball whipped past the dangling bat like a tracer bullet, smashing into the base of the leg-stump with a sickening, explosive clack of wood on leather.

The impact was so violent that the bail was launched a full twenty yards behind the stumps.

Danny Morrison: “CLEANED HIM UP! The furniture has been well and truly rattled! Mitchell Starc is breathing absolute fire out there at Eden Gardens! Vohra’s gone for 9, and Punjab is swimming in deep, deep trouble, Danni boy!”

Up in the VIP box, Preity Zinta sat with her chin resting in her hands, her expression etched with a tense, growing anxiety.

Around her, the pockets of Punjab fans sat in stunned silence.

Down in the KXIP dugout, the coaching staff were frantically scribbling notes onto clipboards while captain George Bailey stood near the boundary line with a grim, serious expression, fully padded up and watching the carnage.

Out on the field, the RCB players celebrated with sharp, disciplined intensity.

Rocky Rudra stood calmly at mid-off, his white jersey sporting a faint red smear from his earlier acrobatics at slip, looking every bit the cold predator.

____

The Swagger of the Big Show

Glenn Maxwell strode out to the crease with an unapologetic swagger—the aura of a man entirely unbothered by a scoreboard in distress.

He took his guard, tapping his bat hard and rhythmically against the crease, his eyes darting across the suffocating, aggressive field settings mapped out by Virat Kohli.

As the frantic first six overs finally bled out, the powerplay scoreboard flashed its grim reality:

…

POWERPLAY SUMMARY (OVERS 1 – 6)

Scorecard after 6.0 Overs:

Virender Sehwag: 0 (3) c Rudra b B.Kumar

Manan Vohra: 9 (12) b M.Starc

Wriddhiman Saha: 18* (15 balls)

Glenn Maxwell: 7* (6 balls)

KXIP: 34/2

____

In the Commentary Box

Danny Morrison: “The Powerplay belongs lock, stock, and barrel to Bangalore! They’ve reeled in the big fish Sehwag, cleaned up young Vohra’s stumps, and choked the life out of the run rate, keeping it well under six! But look who’s just walked out to the middle, folks—the Big Show is in town! Maxwell and Saha are staring down a mountain of pressure, Danni boy, and the air out here is positively crackling!”

The heavy tropical heat radiated directly off the baked turf, drawing thin streams of sweat from the bowlers’ brows as they reset their plans.

Across the amphitheater, the crowd operated as a single, boiling sea of anticipation, turning every dot ball into a psychological blow that echoed off the concrete tiers.

Harsha Bhogle: “You can taste the desperation in the Punjab dugout, Danny. They understand the arithmetic perfectly. If Glenn Maxwell and Wriddhiman Saha don’t stitch together a substantial partnership right now, RCB’s relentless bowling attack will strangle this innings long before the fifteenth over. This isn’t just playoff cricket—this is a clinical execution at its most brutal.”

Amidst the tense, humming silence between deliveries, Rocky Rudra held his ground at mid-off. His eyes remained locked like a crosshair on Glenn Maxwell, tracking every twitch of the Australian’s bat. Yet, the moment a bowler turned to run back to his mark, Rocky’s hands would snap together in a sharp, echoing clap—his voice slicing cleanly through the 66,000-strong wall of white noise with fierce, aggressive encouragement.”

The stage was fully set for the middle-over squeeze, and the Eden Gardens crowd held its collective breath, waiting to see who would crack first.

____

The humidity at Eden Gardens was no longer just a weather condition.

It was a physical opponent.

The air hung heavy—a moisture-laden blanket carrying the sharp, metallic tang of the nearby Hooghly River and the smoky aroma of charcoal-grilled street food drifting in from the maidan outside.

Under the gargantuan banks of floodlights, the emerald turf glistened with a slick sheen, making every sliding stop a gamble and every sprint an act of sheer will.

As the Powerplay expired with Punjab reeling at 34/2, Virat Kohli turned immediately to his trump card, Yuzvendra Chahal.

The skinny leg-spinner stood at the top of his mark, but before he could even grip the ball, Rocky Rudra was right in his face.

Jogging in with a frantic, infectious energy, his white jersey already darkened with sweat, Rocky locked eyes with his spinner.

“Yuzi, look at him! He’s eyeing the mid-wicket boundary!” Rocky shouted, jabbing a finger toward Glenn Maxwell.

He clapped his hands hard, the sharp clap echoing through the tense inner ring. “Toss it up! Let him come! I’ve got your back at point!”

Danny Morrison: “Look at the absolute spark plug! Rocky Rudra is revved up to a thousand horsepower! He’s not letting Chahal breathe out there! He’s demanding flight, he’s demanding raw aggression, Danni boy!”

David ‘Bumble’ Lloyd: “He’s everywhere, Danny! He’s cutting off angles at point, he’s chirping right in Maxwell’s ear, and now he’s sprinting over to polish the ball. This is an all-out assault on the senses!”

____

The seventh over commenced. True to form, Maxwell—the “Big Show”—did not waste time settling in, advancing down the track to Chahal’s second delivery and looking to launch a vicious reverse-sweep.

It was struck with immense power, timed to perfection. But Rocky, stationed expertly at backward point, moved like a streak of red lightning.

He intercepted the ball with a sharp, flawless sliding block, scrambled instantly back to his feet, and fired a flat, physics-defying rocket throw straight into the gloves of Parthiv Patel.

“NOT TODAY, MAXI! NOT TODAY!”

Rocky roared across the pitch, staring down the Australian with unblinking intensity.

He didn’t look away, holding his ground and offering a sharp, aggressive nod that practically dared Maxwell to try it again.

Maxwell snorted in frustration, turning his head away as the crowd buzzed with electricity.

Harsha Bhogle: “The sheer intensity Rocky is bringing to this field is bleeding into every single player in red and gold. Look at Bhuvneshwar Kumar at long-on, look at Mitchell Starc at fine-leg—they aren’t just fielding anymore, they’re leaning in. They’re hunting as a pack.”

____

The psychological pressure surged like raging coastal waves against a crumbling breakwater. Overs eight, nine, and ten yielded a meager fourteen runs combined.

Wriddhiman Saha and Glenn Maxwell suffocated beneath the tactical vice.

Whenever they probed the infield for a quick single, Rocky Rudra or Virat Kohli materialized in the dirt, throwing with lethal venom.

The stadium boiled with relentless “RCB! RCB!” chants that acted as a physical force, driving the fielders closer to the bat.

In the thirteenth over, the structural integrity finally snapped. Yuzvendra Chahal looped one up, tantalizingly slow in the damp air.

Maxwell’s eyes dilated. He unleashed a ferocious slog-sweep, but the ball dipped viciously, catching the top edge and swirling high into the Kolkata firmament.

Mitchell Starc settled underneath the plummeting white sphere at long-on, clutching it securely.

Rocky sprinted like a madman from point, crashing into Chahal with bone-crushing force.

He hoisted the diminutive leg-spinner off the turf, shaking him violently in a frenzy of adrenaline.

“I TOLD YOU! I TOLD YOU HE WOULD BLINK!” Rocky bellowed, his face a mask of primal elation.

He wheeled toward the roaring masses, throwing his arms wide and demanding maximum decibels, and Eden Gardens responded with a thunderous wave of sound.

By the conclusion of the fifteenth over, Punjab limped to 112/4. David Miller had come and gone, obliterated by a searing Starc yorker that prompted Kohli to roar “THAT IS THE ONE!” directly past the departing South African’s ear.

…

The sixteenth through nineteenth overs descended into a desperate battle for survival.

George Bailey recognized the sinking vessel. He began aggressively charging the spinners, targeting the inviting dimensions of the shorter boundaries.

He found the fence thrice against Albie Morkel, the sharp leather-on-willow crack echoing like a whip through the humid atmosphere.

Rocky operated as a perpetual shadow. He transitioned from point to long-off, sprinting fifty yards between deliveries to ensure his voice rang inside the bowler’s ear.

When Bhuvneshwar Kumar returned for the eighteenth over, Rocky stalked right behind him, offering fierce backing.

“Five balls of yorkers, Bhuvi. Five lethal ones. You own the death! Just show them!”

Punjab scrambled desperately for every scrap, though wickets evaporated at the opposite end.

As the nineteenth over dissolved into history, the scoreboard read a precarious 156/6.

Bailey stood unbeaten on 32, fighting like a lone commander determined to drag his battered side toward a competitive total.

…

The Last over

Bhuvneshwar Kumar stood at the top of his mark for the final six balls.

“Come on, Bhuvi! Make him dance! This is our over! Right here!” Rudra shouted, his voice hoarse.

He ran five yards to his left, sliding into the dirt just to retrieve a dead ball, springing up instantly and firing it back to the keeper with a velocity that spoke of pure adrenaline.

Virat Kohli was at the other end, his face flushed, also screaming instructions.

But Rudra was the one physically closing the gap, patting Bhuvi on the back, shouting, “Heads up! You’re the best in the world! Kill the stumps!”

The crowd was a wall of sound.

The “Bhuvi! Bhuvi!” chant was so loud it made the water in the boundary-side coolers ripple.

Ravi Shastri: “This is it! The final over of the innings! 156 on the board. Bailey is set. Bhuvi has the ball. This is playoff cricket at its absolute zenith!”

Danny Morrison (on the air): “But… Look at that energy from the youngster! Rocky Rudra is absolutely buzzing! He’s in Bhuvi’s ear, he’s clapping in the batsman’s face, he is demanding intensity! This is what playoffs are about, Danni boy!”

19.1 Ball:

Bhuvi steamed in for the first ball of the final over. He went for the yorker, but the ball, slick with dew, slipped. It landed as a juicy full-toss on the leg stump.

Bailey didn’t even blink. He cleared his front leg and whipped it with a sickening crack of the bat, sending the ball screaming over the deep mid-wicket boundary.

SIX RUNS.

The Punjab dugout erupted. The momentum shifted in a heartbeat.

19.2 Ball:

Bhuvi tried to over-correct. He aimed for a wide yorker, but it came out as a half-volley. Bailey, sensing blood, reached out and carved it over long-off.

The ball once again sailed deep into the stands.

SIX RUNS.

168/6. The crowd was stunned, Virat was already fuming and pointing towards Rocky to encourage Bhuvi and Bailey looked possessed.

Preity Zinta was jumping happily like a kitten in the VIP stands.

The momentum had shifted violently.

Virat Kohli was fuming, his face turning a deep shade of crimson as he gestured wildly at the fielders.

Rudra was already near the mark. He grabbed the ball, sprinted to Bhuvi, and literally hugged him.

He put his hand on Bhuvi’s shoulders.

“Listen to me! Forget those! He’s lucky! He’s scared of your yorker, that’s why he’s swinging early! Hit the base of the middle stump!”

Bumble: “Look at Rudra! After receiving signals from his captain, he immediately rushed towards the bowler. He’s not letting the bowler collapse! He’s physically holding Bhuvi together! That’s incredible leadership from a teenager!”

19.3 Ball:

Bhuvi took a deep breath, wiped the ball on his trousers, and sprinted in. He hit the blockhole. The ball was perfect. A searing, late-swinging yorker at 14 km/h right at the base of the middle stump.

Bailey, looking for a third consecutive six, tried to heave it across the line. He missed and the ball snaked past the bat and crashed into the woodwork.

WICKET.

The stadium exploded. Rudra went into a ballistic frenzy. He sprinted toward the pitch, shadow-boxing the air, let out a primal roar that could be heard over the 66,000 fans, and did a massive fist-pump celebration.

He collided with Virat, and the two of them screamed into the night air, their foreheads almost touching in a display of raw, unadulterated passion.

19.4 Ball:

Mitchell Johnson walked in. Bhuvi, now brimming with confidence after getting the captain’s wicket, bowled a brilliant back-of-the-hand slower ball. Johnson, expecting pace, swung far too early.

The ball hung in the air, a simple loopy delivery that found the leading edge. It popped up straight to Rudra at short-extra-cover.

Rudra, who had moved there after the wicket, didn’t even have to move.

He plucked it out of the air, slammed the ball into his other palm, and immediately sprinted to Bhuvi, nearly knocking him over with a high-speed hug. “ONE MORE! ONE MORE!” he screamed.

Ravi Shastri: “ANOTHER ONE! Bhuvneshwar Kumar is on a hat-trick! The Wolf is leading the charge in the field! The atmosphere is electric! Eden is shaking!”

The crowd was so loud it was almost deafening.

The “Bhuvi! Bhuvi!” chants were a physical weight. The next man in was Parvinder Awana.

19.5 Ball:

Bhuvi went for the kill. A thunderbolt of a delivery, 142 km/h, aimed right at the toes.

Awana was late. The ball thudded into the front pad right in front of all three stumps. Bhuvi didn’t even look at the umpire, he was already celebrating.

The umpire’s finger went up instantly.

LBW!

HAT-TRICK!

And punjab were out of reviews.

Danny Morrison: “HAT-TRICK! BHUVNESHWAR KUMAR HAS A HAT-TRICK AT EDEN GARDENS! UNBELIEVABLE SCENES!”

Rudra didn’t celebrate alone. He initiated a pile-on. He grabbed Bhuvi, Kohli joined in, and the three of them were a huddle of screaming, triumphant red jerseys.

Rudra was slapping Bhuvi’s back, his face smeared with sweat and the red dust of the pitch, looking like he’d just won a war.

For some reason, he was pretty much fired up today.

David Bumble Lloyd: “UNBELIEVABLE! From two sixes to a hat-trick in three balls! And look at Rocky Rudra! He is the heartbeat of this team! The aggression, the passion—it’s contagious!”

19.6 Ball:The Final Ball

The last ball was a hurried single to long-on. The Punjab tail managed to scramble one run before the innings ended.

KXIP: 169/9.

As the RCB players walked off the field, the sounds of firecrackers ringing in the ears, the smell of burnt cordite from the mid-innings fireworks, and the sight of Rudra and Kohli, two of the most aggressive characters in the game were walking side-by-side into the dugout, still talking, still intense, still keeping the energy at a peak and were ready to hunt down the target.

The Wolf was no longer just a nickname for a single player, it had become the spirit of the team now.

Harsha Bhogle (on the air): “What an over! What a finish! 12 runs off the first two balls, and then three wickets and a single. RCB will be chasing 170. But the story isn’t just the bowling. It’s the fielding intensity. Virat Kohli and Rocky Rudra have turned this into a gladiatorial arena. Both kept the heat on for every single delivery.”