The generation that gets better!!!

 "When a man is a boy, he looks at what he can get; when he is a man, he looks at what he can give.”

There are many things Maidaan cricket has given us over the years.

Runs. Wickets. Arguments. Injuries that required considerably more medical attention than the injury itself. Friendships. Rivalries. WhatsApp abuse. And, occasionally, cricket.

But perhaps the most rewarding thing has been watching a bunch of boys who started playing with us slowly become men.

And that, for me, is one of the things that makes Maidaan special.

Because time and sport are cruel. You don't notice it happening.

One day they are the kids running around the boundary, asking when they will get to bat. And before you know it, they are bowling the difficult overs, taking responsibility, making decisions — and, most annoyingly, **making some of us look old.**

It started with four of them — **Ayush, Ahaan, Eshaan and Pranav** — all thick buddies themselves.

One of them took an early retirement because, in his words, he was bored and had better things to do.

I don't blame him. I don't blame his father either.

But Pranav was probably the most *made-to-order* Maidaan cricketer of the lot.

Emotional. Mercurial. A match-winner.

And never, ever prepared to let someone else have the last word.

In fact, if Maidaan had a “Right of Reply” award, Pranav would have won it every season.

The other three are fascinating characters.

Ayush looks almost lazy.

Reticent. Unhurried. Like someone who has accidentally wandered onto a cricket ground and is wondering when everyone is going home.

Then you give him the ball. And suddenly the lazy man disappears.

That beautiful stride up to the crease, the acceleration and the power he generates at release is something the rest of us can only admire.

From a safe distance.

The fact that the captain's first instinct when things get difficult is to throw the ball to Ayush says plenty about his talent.

And he isn't exactly hopeless with the bat either, especially now that he has decided that batting is also worth taking seriously.

Which is unfortunate for the rest of us.

But what really stands out is his maturity.

The boy has game. He has temperament. He understands situations.

Basically, he has all the qualities that most of us have been trying to acquire for the last 20 years.

Some of us are still working on it.

Ahaan is an entirely different character.

He plays only one day a week because education, apparently, still takes precedence over Maidaan cricket.

We question his priorities.

If Ayush is reticent, Ahaan is **classified information**.

I honestly don't know which stone this guy is made of.

It took Ahaan the longest to find his game.

But looking back, I don't think the game was ever the problem. It was all in his head.

Once he started believing in himself, something clicked.

Suddenly the shots started coming. The confidence appeared. The cricket went up another level.

He was also probably Maidaan's first specialist fielder. Not just someone who fielded. A specialist.

He found that sweet spot just behind the wicket and basically decided that nobody else needed to stand there.

For me personally, the best part isn't even the cricket. It's watching Ahaan have a good time. Somewhere between the cricket, the conversations, the banter and the Sunday nonsense, we've also got to bond. And those are the moments that stay.

Then there is Eshaan.

Swagger. 

Personality.

Confidence.

The youngest of the lot, but somehow completely comfortable amongst a bunch of men who have collectively accumulated enough cricketing wisdom to still make the same mistakes every Sunday. The fact that his team waits for him to return from **actual cricket coaching** before starting a Maidaan game is mildly embarrassing for the rest of us.

The boy can hit. And unfortunately, he doesn't just hit the ball. He makes a performance out of it.

There is something particularly offensive about watching a teenager hit your bowling into the distance while looking like he has already seen the ball three seconds before you delivered it.

His bowling is equally creative.He spins webs around batsmen, changes things up and generally makes you wonder whether you should have taken up golf instead.

And then there is the younger brother. Who, we suspect, is watching all of this very carefully and waiting for his opportunity.

The Maidaan has one very important rule:No more than two from a family.

So the real question isn't whether the younger brother will play. The question is: Who gets the boot?

Because this isn't really a note about analysing these three young men.It is about what they represent.

For years, we have been the ones teaching them. Giving them advice. Telling them where to stand. Explaining the finer points of the game. And occasionally telling them things that were completely wrong with extraordinary confidence.

Now the tables have turned. They are getting better. They are getting stronger. They are becoming more confident.

Which brings us to the uncomfortable bit. The rest of us need to get better.

Because while it is wonderfully satisfying to watch the next generation come through, there is something deeply unsettling about being dispatched by someone who still has homework.

Our egos are already large. Getting brutalised by a bunch of teenagers doesn't help. And the worst part?

They don't even look particularly impressed with themselves. They just pick up the ball and walk back.

Which is incredibly irritating. But perhaps that's the beauty of Maidaan. It has never really been about staying young. It has been about staying involved.

About watching friendships evolve. Watching boys become men. Watching men become slightly slower men. And then pretending the slower men are still tactically superior.

So yes, let's enjoy the coming of age.

Let's enjoy watching Ayush, Ahaan and Eshaan grow into the cricketers and men they are becoming.

Because when a boy becomes a man, he hopefully learns what he can give.

And when a Maidaan man gets old, he learns something else:

How to give advice without being asked.

And boys...Enjoy your moment. Enjoy the runs. Enjoy the wickets. Enjoy making us look ridiculous.

Because the old men aren't done yet.

"This ain't over. Not even close."