Overpowered Cricket system

The debate surrounding Nitish Reddy's controversial exit from Indian cricket had spilled far beyond the studios of Republic TV. Across India, from chai shops in bustling city streets to quiet rural tea stalls, from WhatsApp groups to late-night gatherings among friends, Nitish's name was on everyone's lips. The entire nation seemed to be engaged in a never-ending argument: Was Nitish a hero wronged by the system, or a traitor who had abandoned his country?

In a small chai shop in Bangalore, the usual crowd of office-goers and college students huddled around the shop's only television, which was tuned to a sports channel discussing Nitish's journey.

"Did you hear? RCB is planning to release Nitish for the 2025 IPL," one man said, sipping his steaming cup of chai.

"What?" another exclaimed, nearly spilling his drink. "RCB without Nitish? That's like biryani without the masala!"

"It makes sense," the first man replied. "They need the 20 crore retention amount to rebuild their team. After his disappearance, how can they rely on him?"

A younger man, wearing an RCB jersey, looked up angrily. "Rely on him? Are you kidding me? Nitish carried RCB to the finals twice! Without him, we'd be bottom of the table every season!"

An older man in the corner, who had been quietly observing, chuckled. "Beta, cricket is a business. Sentiment doesn't win trophies, money does. RCB needs to think about their future."

"But Nitish is their future!" the young man shot back, his voice rising. "He's the best player we've ever had. Just because he's going through a rough patch doesn't mean we abandon him!"

The older man shrugged, taking another sip of his chai. "We'll see how it plays out. But mark my words—if Nitish doesn't return, RCB will have no choice but to let him go."

Similar conversations were happening in countless chai shops across the country. At a roadside tea stall in Delhi, a group of cab drivers debated heatedly as they sipped their evening tea.

"Arre yaar, Nitish isn't a traitor," one of them argued. "The man gave his blood, sweat, and tears for this country. If he's playing for Ireland now, it's because we didn't respect him."

"Respect him?" another retorted. "He abandoned us! Left us when we needed him the most. And now RCB is dropping him? Serves him right."

A third driver, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. "You know what the problem is? We treat our heroes like gods when they're winning, but the moment they falter, we turn on them. Nitish didn't abandon us. We abandoned him."

The group fell silent, each man lost in his own thoughts. The debate had no easy answers, and the longer it dragged on, the more complicated it seemed to get.

Meanwhile, in a college dormitory in Hyderabad, a group of students gathered around a laptop, watching highlights of Nitish's best performances for RCB.

"Man, look at this!" one of them said, pointing at the screen. "That century against MI in 2023? Absolute masterclass!"

"Yeah," another added, "and that spell against CSK—three wickets in one over! No one else could do that."

"But now RCB's releasing him," a third student said, shaking his head. "Can you believe it? After everything he's done for them?"

"RCB is stupid," the first student declared. "Nitish is irreplaceable. There's no one in the IPL who can do what he does."

"But he's been out of form," the third student pointed out. "And he's been missing for months. How can RCB gamble 20 crores on someone who might not even show up?"

The room fell silent, the students grappling with the weight of Nitish's absence. For fans like them, Nitish wasn't just a player—he was a symbol of hope, of brilliance, of what cricket could be at its very best.

The news of RCB's decision to release Nitish spread like wildfire. Sports channels ran breaking news segments, analysts debated the implications, and fans flooded social media with their reactions.

"RCB RELEASES NITISH REDDY: END OF AN ERA?" one headline screamed.

"RCB FACES BACKLASH FROM FANS OVER NITISH DECISION," another read.

On a popular cricket talk show, a panel of experts discussed the move.

"It's a pragmatic decision," one analyst argued. "RCB has struggled to build a balanced team for years. Retaining Nitish for 20 crores would leave them with limited funds to strengthen other areas."

"But Nitish is their backbone," another countered. "He's not just a player; he's a brand. Releasing him could alienate their fan base."

"And what about his form?" the first analyst shot back. "He hasn't played a single match in months. He's an unknown quantity now. RCB can't afford to take that risk."

A former cricketer on the panel leaned forward, his tone grave. "This decision goes beyond cricket. It's about loyalty. Nitish gave everything to RCB, and now they're dropping him when he needs them the most. What kind of message does that send?"

In Bangalore, outside the Chinnaswamy Stadium, fans gathered to protest the decision. Holding banners that read "RCB IS NOTHING WITHOUT NITISH" and "KEEP OUR KING," they chanted slogans and demanded answers from the franchise.

One fan, wearing a Nitish Reddy jersey, spoke to a reporter. "Nitish is the reason I started supporting RCB. If they drop him, I'm done with this team. He's more than a player—he's a legend."

Another fan, holding a sign that read "LOYALTY MATTERS," added, "If RCB can't stand by Nitish in his tough times, why should we stand by RCB?"

Amid the chaos, the RCB management released a statement.

"We deeply respect and value Nitish Reddy's contributions to the franchise. He has been an integral part of our journey, and this decision was not made lightly. However, in the interest of building a balanced and competitive squad for the 2025 IPL, we have decided not to retain him. We wish Nitish all the best in his future endeavors."

The statement only fueled the outrage. Fans flooded RCB's social media pages with comments, accusing the franchise of betrayal and shortsightedness.

"Shame on you, RCB!" one comment read. "You don't deserve a player like Nitish."

"This is the end of RCB for me," another wrote. "Loyalty works both ways, and you've failed."

As the debates raged on, Nitish remained silent. He had heard about RCB's decision but chose not to respond publicly. In private, he felt a mix of emotions—anger, disappointment, and a deep sadness. RCB had been his home, his family. To be let go without so much as a conversation felt like yet another betrayal.

But Nitish wasn't one to dwell on the past. He knew the world of cricket was ruthless, and if he was to make a comeback, it would have to be on his own terms.

In the end, the debate over Nitish's future remained unresolved. Fans, analysts, and players continued to argue, each side convinced of their perspective. But one thing was certain: Nitish Reddy's absence had left a void in Indian cricket that no one else could fill.

And as the cricketing world waited to see what Nitish would do next, one question lingered in the minds of everyone who had ever watched him play: Could there ever be another like him?