A Parent
I don’t know when I fell asleep. Perhaps it was after another day at the nets, watching my son bowl till his shoulders ached, chasing a dream that seemed purer than the system meant to nurture it. Or maybe it was exhaustion—of waiting, hoping, explaining to a child why merit alone is never enough in Hyderabad cricket.
But the dream came anyway.
When the Stadium Finally Spoke Truth
It opened at the Rajiv Gandhi International Cricket Stadium—newly refurbished, gleaming, almost unfamiliar. The chairs were aligned, the microphones worked, and for once, so did the conscience.
At the dais sat court-appointed administrator Justice Naveen Rao, flanked by a newly elected Apex Council. No nervous smiles. No coded language. No evasive answers.
The message was unambiguous: accountability, transparency, and performance would define the new era of Hyderabad cricket.
As a parent, I leaned forward. We’ve heard slogans before. But this felt different. This felt… honest.
Owning Failure, Resetting the System
Then came a moment I had never imagined witnessing—even in a dream.
The Junior Selection Committee stood up and did the unthinkable: they accepted moral responsibility. Publicly. Without excuses. They admitted that poor team performances were not accidents but consequences of flawed selections, external pressures, and compromised decisions.
And then, they stepped aside voluntarily.
No court order. No protest. No drama.
Junior selections for the rest of the season were handed to the Senior Selection Committee. Every selection, they said, would now be backed by written performance assessment reports, vetted in consultation with Justice Naveen Rao himself.
Past blunders—like skewed team balance and obsessive over-reliance on left-arm spinners—were acknowledged openly.
In that admission lay the first real reform: truth without defensiveness.
Results That Didn’t Need Spin
Dreams often exaggerate. This one didn’t need to.
Hyderabad went on to win both the Ranji Trophy and the C K Nayudu Trophy. A turnaround so dramatic it felt scripted—yet deeply deserved.
Young players earned national call-ups. Parents cried in the stands, not out of frustration, but pride. It was announced that the victorious Vinoo Mankad Trophy team would be felicitated alongside the seniors.
“Dates and venue will be announced shortly,” the speaker smiled.
I remember thinking: Even the smiles feel earned today.
Telangana Premier League: When Opportunity Finally Arrived
Then came the announcement many had dismissed as impossible—the Telangana Premier League had not just launched, but succeeded.
Strong franchise bids. Revenues beyond internal expectations. Applause from the government, administrators, fans, and players alike.
But the real triumph wasn’t financial.
Multiple players—local boys, familiar faces—earned IPL contracts after aggressive franchise bidding. Not through quotas. Not through phone calls. Through performances.
For the first time, Hyderabad cricket had a credible talent pipeline.
The Academy That Changed Everything
In the dream, players spoke about the Hyderabad Cricket Academy of Excellence the way athletes speak of turning points.
World-class facilities. Scientific fitness programs. Injury management that didn’t end careers prematurely. Clear long-term planning.
Selectors graded players objectively, and those graded lists were shared with A and Division clubs. League selections became merit-based. Competition intensified. Private academies aligned their training with HCA’s curriculum.
As a parent, I realised something unsettling: This wasn’t revolutionary. It was just… sensible.
Leagues That Respected Players’ Lives
League cricket finally began on time—and ended on time.
Schedules were drawn after promotions and demotions. HCA-appointed coaches were assigned to all A Division teams, with a roadmap to extend the model to B and C Divisions.
League cricket was no longer chaos. It became what it was always meant to be: a feeder to state teams, not a graveyard of ignored performances.
Contracts, Not Consolation
Borrowing from the BCCI model, HCA introduced graded player contracts—A, B, and C categories—covering all state players and select academy performers.
Through a transparent draw-of-lots system, every A and B Division club received at least seven contracted players. Talent spread evenly. Competition deepened.
HCA even committed to covering payments—for players, coaches, managers, and club secretaries—along with approved expenses.
For once, clubs didn’t have to beg. Players didn’t have to borrow.
Governance Without Gratitude Politics
Managerial posts—once rewards for loyalty rather than competence—were now allocated on a rotational, rational basis.
Critical assignments went to capable hands. Merit replaced proximity. Performance replaced patronage.
It felt unreal. And yet, perfectly logical.
Elections That Didn’t Smell of Fear
The dream peaked with elections under amended bye-laws—accepted unanimously.
Several old faces stepped aside voluntarily. Younger members contested without intimidation. The process was calm, dignified, and clean.
No whispers. No inducements. No midnight meetings.
For once, governance felt… legitimate.
And Then, the Perfect Ending
As if scripted by fate, the IPL season ended with Sunrisers Hyderabad lifting the trophy. The city celebrated—not just a team, but a culture reborn.
Hyderabad cricket stood tall, on and off the field.
Then I Woke Up
The alarm rang. The nets awaited. Reality returned.
It was only a dream.
But it was a dream built not on fantasy—only on fairness, intent, and love for the game.
And perhaps that’s the most painful truth of all:
That what feels impossible today is merely what should have been normal all along.
If nothing else, may this New Year bring us closer—to a system where our children’s dreams don’t remain ours alone.
