rematch | ishman

CH: 1

“You can't possibly expect them to bend the rules for you, Kishan.” The coach spoke with a tight-lipped smile, returning to his journal, where he was always scribbling down Test stats of the national team. If only the old codger paid more attention to the college team instead, they could have made it to the playoffs last season. Ishan hated himself for hoping anyone took the cricket club seriously here. If it weren’t for being in his final year, he might have just waited for the old geezer to retire.

But Ishan needed this, more than ever, because he was going to be there too. He, the one Ishan had been training relentlessly to face. He, the one Ishan was going to defeat if that’s the last thing he did.

Ishan gripped the edge of the table tightly. “Coach, you know how long I've been waiting for this. You said I deserved to be the captain.”

Shastri looked up with an unimpressed look. “Of course you do. But a captain doesn’t make a team, you’re short of three substitutes.”

“The deadline is near, can’t you just send in the names? I’ll try to look for volunteers.”

“And pray tell, what names should i send in place of those three?”

“Um, I don’t know, like. Kartik... Ali... and John?” When Shastri stared at him, he added, “What? It’s diverse.”

“You can’t bring in random people, Kishan.”

“How does it matter? Substitutes don’t play anyway,” Ishan argued.

“Like I said, a captain doesn’t make a team,” Shastri repeated, as if he expected Ishan to clap. “We haven’t had a captain in a long time.” He hummed, working his pen again.

Ishan did not understand this man at all. He wanted to pull out his own hair and burn that goddamned journal. “Coach.”

He didn’t look up. “Three boys, Kishan. Can’t you scout three boys in this whole campus?”

Ishan bit his lip from saying “why the fuck are so you useless?”

“But the deadline-”

“Is in three days. Ah, how convenient. Happy scouting!” the grump said in feign cheer with a wave, ending the conversation. Ishan stomped out of the room. His agitated eyes searched around the field for any boy who looked remotely athletic, but all he could spot were couples. Fuck this place.

He ran into the basketball guys having a practice match. He resisted rolling his eyes at them, the ones all the funds were spent on, leaving little for the cricket club. Ishan moved his gaze towards the benched players, he huffed. Substitutes were substitutes after all.

Wait.

Substitutes were substitutes after all.

So, he could just…

“Oi!” Ishan called out, ignoring the odd looks passed between the other players. The guy blinked, pointing to himself to be sure.

“Yes, you! weird hair!” Ishan waved him over. TILAK, his jersey read.

“I don’t have weird hair,” Tilak muttered as he walked to the sidelines, reaching for his hair consciously. “Um, hi?”

Ishan did not intend to beat around the bush. “You ever played cricket?”

“Played, yes. Play, no,” Tilak replied, sensing the predicament he was about to be in.

Ishan nodded. “We can fix that. Come on, you’re in the team.”

He wheeled around on his feet, walking off. Tilak followed him with wide eyes. “Wait, what? No, I can’t.”

“You will.”