A letter to my hero

Issue 17 (16/5/2025): A letter to my hero as he hangs up his boots and lays his bat to rest. A letter of gratitude, appreciation, and a little heartbreak for selfishly hoping he would play in England

Dear Virat,

I’ve been waiting for this day, anxiously, knowing that the day you hang up your boots was closer than I wanted. Maybe this subconscious response was driven to convince me to continue waking up early mornings and stay late nights to watch you in white for perhaps the last time, maybe to cherish each knock just a tad bit more.

But as I write this, I struggle with the reality that you have truly left red ball cricket. But as you have always said, when you no longer have the ability internally to push, you will walk away and it makes me glad that you have chosen the decision and I’m proud to have grown up watching my hero become the worlds hero.

I write this, with the mindset of when the next generation of cricket lovers ask me, how exceptional was Virat truly? Was he really the GOAT? Why is his name synonymous with cricket, with being the king, and why do I along with a billion other souls consider you pivotal to the greatest game. I write this as an answer to such questions that I guarantee the future will ask and I feel proud to say I witnessed the era of Indian cricket that you built up. The era where India isn’t going to be bullied around, the era where we will sledge the Aussies in Australia and the English in England. The era where we will have more Indian support in the MCG or Lords than the home side. The era of fearless and aggressive cricket. The era of being the best cricket team across all formats of the game - all at once.

Before the twin centuries that announced him to the world, there was another Adelaide innings - quieter perhaps, but no less significant. January 2012, a 23-year-old walking out for what would become his maiden Test hundred. Against the same attack that would later challenge him as captain, he showed no fear, no hesitation. Just a young man with an old soul, crafting 116 runs with the precision of a master craftsman. They say every great journey begins with a single step - for Virat, it was this innings that whispered to the world: "Pay attention. Something special is coming”.

I remember watching you silence the critics in Adelaide, scoring twin centuries when India's back was against the wall. After that disastrous 8-wicket loss in the first test, everyone wrote us off. But you walked out in the second innings of the Adelaide test with that characteristic swagger and crafted 141 runs of pure artistry. The way you played the short ball, the way you negotiated the bounce - it wasn't just technique, it was attitude. You were announcing to the world that this Indian team was different, that we wouldn't just participate, this would be the start of an era where we would begin to dominate. I know we lost that match by 48 runs, but my god did you show what the future had to offer.

If Adelaide was the announcement, Melbourne was the symphony. Boxing Day at the MCG, cricket's grandest stage, and Virat painting a masterpiece in front of 90,000 spectators. His 169 wasn't just runs on a scoreboard - it was poetry in motion, each of his 30 boundaries a brushstroke on cricket's most famous canvas. The way he cut, drove, and pulled with such authority made it seem like the MCG had always been his home ground. In that moment, watching him dominate on cricket's biggest day, we knew we weren't just watching statistics being compiled - we were witnessing history being written in the most beautiful handwriting possible.

That zoom into the team huddle became legendary, didn't it? When you said the opposition should feel like hell for 60 overs, you weren't just talking tough - you were setting a new DNA for Indian cricket. You transformed our mindset from defensive to offensive. Under your leadership, bowling to India wasn't going to be comfortable anymore. You made sure our bowlers hunted in packs, that every over would be a battle, every session a war, every test a hunting ground.

But time and time again, I am reminded of one image that personifies your career far greater than the rest. The image of you walking off the Lord's balcony with your collar up after that century in 2018 - that wasn't arrogance, that was earned confidence. Scoring a hundred at the home of cricket, in front of the MCC members who had seen legends for over two centuries, and doing it with such authority. You didn't just score runs there; you made a statement that Indian cricket belonged among the very best, even in the most traditional of venues.

2018-19 will forever be etched in our memories. When you led that team to a 2-1 series victory in Australia, you didn't just win a series - you broke a 71-year drought. You showed that the final frontier wasn't final anymore. It was a campaign that began with heartbreak - that devastating 36 all out in Adelaide, where critics gleefully proclaimed the same old India had returned. But you saw something different. You saw opportunity in humiliation, strength in vulnerability. The way you marshalled that team after such a crushing defeat was masterful. The bowling changes, the field placements, the motivation you instilled in a young pace attack - Bumrah, Shami, Ishant - transforming them into a hunting pack that would terrorize the best batting lineup in the world. You made them believe they could be feared in the fastest, bounciest conditions on earth. At Melbourne, your tactical brilliance and relentless drive turned a team that had just been bowled out for 36 into legends.

The sight of you holding that trophy at the SCG, tears in your eyes, with the entire Indian dressing room behind you - that image transcended cricket. It was the moment India shed its old skin. For generations, we had been the polite visitors, grateful just to compete. You changed that narrative forever.

Then came Pune, 2019, where Virat didn't just bat - he painted his magnum opus. 254 not out - his highest Test score, an innings that lasted nearly eight hours but felt like eternity in its beauty. Against Rabada, against Philander, against every challenge South Africa threw at him, he stood unmoved, unbeaten, unstoppable. Thirty-three fours and two sixes, each shot a statement: "This is my house, these are my rules." When he finally raised his bat after reaching that double century, it wasn't just celebration - it was a king acknowledging his kingdom.

I could write a book about all the beautiful shots you played, all the records you broke, and all the critics you silenced. But all these stories lead to one fact - we spent 6 years at the summit. That’s not luck, that’s sustained excellence. You took over a team that was struggling abroad and turned them into world class champions, both home and away. Under you, we didn't just compete overseas; we conquered. Australia, England, South Africa - places where Indian teams once went to learn, you made them places where we went to teach. We spent 6 years as the number 1 ranked test team in the world and to this day, this is what reminds me that you were truly the most successful test captain India has had.

There were always games where India thought it was out, but somehow you never got that memo This captures your essence perfectly. Whether it was that hundred against Australia in Bengaluru to save the series, or countless other rescue acts, you had this uncanny ability to perform when the situation was most dire. You thrived under pressure not because you liked it, but because you had conditioned yourself to be at your best when your team needed you most.

You had a dream of scoring 10,000 runs in test cricket. Some may say you came short of your dream. But I say, you made all of us start to dream. So thank you, thank you for chasing your dream and letting us start to dream. For it it weren’t for you, maybe the next generation of cricket lovers and ambitious Indians may not have the same drive.

But beyond cricket, Virat, I would like to selfishly talk about myself in the latter half of this tribute. For your centuries, cover drives, and sledging brought great pride and joy, your mindset and attitude brought me so much more. I would be lying if I said I’m not the person I am without you. Your almost scary conviction in your abilities, the borderline lunacy that you call your work ethic, and the sheer confidence and aggression with which you attack every ball - that’s what I will take away more than your accolades. The way you refuse to let a bad shot define an innings, the way you return to the crease with renewed hunger after every dismissal - these aren't just cricket lessons, they're life lessons that shaped the person writing this letter.

In the darkest moments of my life, when failure whispered that I wasn't enough, I remembered how you walked out to bat at 30/3 with the same swagger as when India was 150/1. When the world seemed insurmountable, I found solace in replaying your knocks - not just for their beauty, but for their defiance. You taught me that greatness isn't born from comfort, but forged in the crucible of pressure. Every time you turned impossible situations into inevitable victories, you were unknowingly teaching a generation that surrender is merely a choice, not a destiny.

As I write these final words, I realize that your true legacy isn't carved in record books or housed in trophy cabinets. It lives in the hearts of millions like me who learned to dream bigger, fight harder, and believe deeper because they watched you do the same. Cricket will have new heroes, fresh chapters, and different stories to tell. But somewhere in the future, when a young fan asks their grandfather about the king who changed Indian cricket forever, they'll hear about more than just runs and wickets. They'll hear about a man who didn't just play cricket - he embodied the very spirit of never giving up.

It will feel strange watching India at 30 for 2 and not seeing that familiar silhouette emerging from the pavilion, bat in hand, ready to wage war. But I take comfort knowing that somewhere in the stands, a young boy or girl will be watching with the same wide-eyed wonder I once had, learning that heroes aren't born - they're forged through relentless pursuit of excellence.

Your story doesn't end with your retirement; it transforms. From the legend who changed Indian cricket to the eternal inspiration that will fuel generations of dreamers. You've left us with more than memories - you've left us with a blueprint for greatness, written not just in record books, but in the very fabric of what it means to never surrender.

So until that day when time brings us together again - perhaps at another Adelaide, another Lord's, or maybe just in the stories we tell - know that you carry with you the eternal gratitude of a billion hearts you've made beat faster, dream bigger, and believe stronger.

The king's innings may be over, but his legend has only just begun.

With all the love and gratitude a fan can hold,

See you soon,

A fan still hoping to see you play red ball cricket, one last time.