IPL 2024 Dramaverse | Roadies Challengers Bengaluru Season 1 Episode 1 – Ah, here we go again
Welcome to Roadies Challengers Bengaluru, where a bunch of egomaniacs get together to decide whose personal glory can outweigh team success the best. In today’s season opener, the band gets together again to prepare themselves for yet another disappointment, much like the 16 seasons gone by.
“Congratulations on the pair, Virat!” Kingpin Jay Shah’s voice echoed on the grand jungle replica bang in the middle of India’s Silicon Valley, albeit replete with plastic plants courtesy of the water crisis.
“I think you’re mistaken boss, that was Rohit against Afghanistan, not me,” a startled Kohli shot back to refocus his counterpart’s wandering eyes.
“I meant your son, Virat. Rohit has anyway been busy winning a Test series 4-1, good to know we could manage as well if not better without you,” Shah snared.
“I still got it –” “I haven’t much time, I’ll get straight to the point why I’m here,” the fed-up BCCI Secretary interrupted the muttering.
“We are instituting a new show called Roadies Challengers Bengaluru, wherein you guys, that is Virat, Faf, and Andy, would be leading the gangs and Smriti here would be a floater here overseeing all three gangs.”
“Hah, we don’t do floaters here–”
“And neither do you do success, which is why Smriti is here,” the sternness in Shah’s voice added a cold crispness to the smoggy air.
“Why gangs though, aren’t we supposed to push together to fight for the trophy?”
Before an answer could be produced, Kohli and Faf burst out in exaggerated laughter while patting each other’s shoulders. The tension on Shah’s face immediately melted into a smile even as he caught Mandhana and Flower exchanging bewildered glances.
“You guys will get accustomed to it, this is RCB culture and heritage,” Shah made his final remark before taking his leave.
Following a brief discussion, the remaining quartet split off into their assigned rooms where the players were already waiting for them. Each had been painstakingly decorated as per the theme with motivational banners and posters strewn across the walls in big and bold colours.
Virat took the stage like a natural while the young Indian batting contingent, and Dinesh Karthik, looked up at him in admiration. The former skipper allowed himself a brief smile – “I’ve still got it.” It was only when he let his eyes wander that he realized he had been duped. A banner across the room glared back at him with a mocking undertone – it matter-of-factly read, “Indian batters? We don’t do that here.”
Virat fervently shook his head and closed his eyes. He dove into the tunnels of the past to find words of inspiration – it was not true, was it? No, it wasn’t, he firmly concluded.
“Greeti- I mean, wassup my Gs? Welcome to the RCB fam, you bois must be gassed to be here, we lowkey have a lit legacy, no cap.”
Virat ignored the smirks to continue.
“Think of brudda Rahul, because of our franchise he went on to become the Indian team head coach – who would have thought? Not me. Think of Devdutt, we enabled the boy to make his Test debut and look how he slapped –” This time the grunt was more distinctive and singular, but Virat marched on “– “there was KL, Yuvi, Manish, Mayank, I mean the Indian batting talent we have had is truly staggering, that’s truly some big boots you guys have to fill…”
Virat made the fatal mistake of looking down from the imaginary recreations of his past teammates to the bunch that stood there – Rajat Patidar, Suyash Prabhudessai, Mahipal Lomror, Anuj Rawat, Saurav Chauhan, et al.
“... I-I’m sure you guys can easily reach the same levels of succe–,” he could not bring himself to complete the sentence. With eyes welled up, Virat hurriedly excused himself and rushed off the stage. Before he could go far, Smriti grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Hey, where you off to? You’re supposed to be inducting those guys into the 2024 team.”
“EXACTLY! What have I done to deserve this, Smriti? Is this the reward for my legacy with RCB? I mean I have skippered the third most matches in the tournament history –”
“And comfortably have the worst win-loss record of the top five in the last,” Smriti zinged back.
“Whatever, I oversaw them scoring the highest total – 263, CAN YOU EVEN IMAGINE?”
“I could not imagine being bowled out for 49 either, to be fair. And the way you let freaking Sunil Narine and KKR smash you for 105 in the powerplay, pretty sure they could have brought up 300 if not for the limitations of a paltry 160-odd target.”
“WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU EVEN ON?” Virat wailed, on the verge of a breakdown.
“Champions, or at least I was,” Smriti shot back unflustered, and could only watch her counterpart sprint to the washroom. The women’s skipper shrugged her shoulders and made her way to the adjacent room where Faf was speaking to the foreign contingent.
“...already changed the logo, the name, the jersey, the coaching staff. What more can we even possibly need?”
Smriti struggled to judge whether he was being sarcastic or for real but decided to intervene all the same.
“Perhaps not having a Proteas captain would help to change the bottling legacy.”
The whole room turned around to look at her as stifled giggles echoed between the walls. Faf narrowed his eyes to shoot her a glare, only for Smriti to show her phone wallpaper – a glamorous picture of the shiny WPL trophy. The Saffa quickly changed his focus towards the bowling coach Adam Griffith.
“Why have we bought these guys?” Faf whispered while sneakily pointing towards Cameron Green, Lockie Ferguson, Tom Curran, and Reece Topley.
“I was just following orders,” Griffith said, handing over a list to Faf. It was titled ‘Shopping Criteria’ and the pointers read, “tall, white, lean, patchy facial hair, prominent accent (preferably Australian)...”
Faf turned the list around. It was a photo of Mitchell Starc wheeling away in an RCB jersey from 2016. The veteran looked up ready to hurl criticism at Griffith but paused when he took a closer look at the coach’s face. Anger turned to sympathy and gave way to helplessness, at which point he sorrily looked at Smriti. She simply laughed, mouthed, “Told you,” and confidently strutted out of the room.
It was time to visit the third and final room, where Andy Flower was inducting the Indian bowlers. As Smriti approached the room, she could hear no grand speech but just the faint mutterings of the players. She entered through the door to find Andy giggling away while peering at his phone and nonchalantly waving away the bowlers asking him to begin proceedings. Irked, Smriti purposefully strode towards the head coach and tried to snatch the device from his palm, naively forgetting the man used to have the best hands in the business once upon a time. A brief tug-of-war ensued, and the phone ultimately ended up on the deck right by Mohammed Siraj’s feet. The Indian quick hesitatingly picked it up and peeked at the contents. Rage immediately burned in his eyes.
The Hyderabadi menacingly took to the podium and held up the device for all to see. The Zimbabwean had been busy uploading and enjoying memes on a subreddit titled ‘f*** bowlers’. However, to his surprise, his teammates remained unmoved. Siraj turned around to see Flower holding up their contracts before he whistled, “Stop being so melodramatic, dude. I’m new here and even I know that’s how they roll here. You gotta accept the truth at some point.”
Siraj looked back at his teammates. Yash Dayal, Vyshak Vijay Kumar and Akash Deep all stood nodding their heads. However, just as the realization was beginning to seep in, Siraj shook his head to keep the delusion intact. He walked over to Karn Sharma seeking support but the spinner was too busy indulging himself in the UPT20 League. As Siraj tried to shove the phone out of the way, Dayal caught a glance at the screen. He screamed in agony to stun the entire room into silence, before fervently scribbling on the whiteboard ‘f*** spinners.’
As was inevitable, a rumble broke out. Andy took the opportunity to retreat to a deck chair in the corner of the room, enjoying a cup of tea with a hard copy of KP: The Autobiography. Siraj eventually rushed towards him and Smriti pleading with them to make it stop but while the latter looked clueless, Andy smirked as if accepting his victory. The coach slowly stood up, called for attention, and cautiously cleared the whiteboard to spell out in big bold letters, ‘f*** fans’.
All the infighting immediately stopped and a sense of mutual acknowledgement descended in the gathering. Siraj looked over at Smriti hoping for respite but the compatriot had come to terms with this place’s reality – loyalty is a fictional construct, teamwork is a myth and here, everything goes.
Suddenly, a huge upheaval sounded in the corridors. Curious, the players rushed outside, and the trio followed slowly behind. All the players outside had formed a circle and were clamouring after something hidden in the depths of the crowd while Virat and Faf stood at a distance.
“What’s happening?” Smriti approached the duo to ask.
“Maxi has arrived.”
“So?”
“With the World Cup Trophy.”
Defeated, the quartet quietly departed their separate ways from the set. They knew now – it was going to be a long, long season.