Adil Reshi’s second innings, still standing, still scoring

Srinagar, Jun 25: The midday sun shows no mercy. The tin roofs glint in the heat, the air hangs heavy, and the breeze is still. Yet, the cricket ground at HMT Zainakote is alive — the chatter, the cheers, the collective anticipation of a crowd that packed itself into every possible space. They are not here just for cricket. They are here for Adil Reshi.

Once a rising star in the Jammu & Kashmir Cricket Association, Reshi’s professional journey may no longer be charted on JKCA scorecards, but in Kashmir’s cricketing circles, he remains a towering figure. Not just for what he was — but for what he still is.

He walks to the crease — no entourage, no hype — but the noise builds around him. A boy in the crowd yells his name. Someone claps with the rhythm of a hopeful chant. Reshi doesn’t look up. He adjusts his gloves and settles in. Focused. Unbothered. Steady.

“It’s tough out there,” he would say later, sitting under a shade with sports sunshades on his hat. “But it is also familiar. I have been here before — just with fewer greys and more nerves. Now, it’s about experience. That keeps me going.”

At 10, he says, he was a barefoot boy chasing taped balls down narrow alleys in Srinagar. At 30-plus, he is Kashmir’s answer to the timeless cricketer — still scoring, still mentoring, still making the game feel bigger than the boundary ropes.

Reshi’s return to local cricket after his JKCA tenure wasn’t marked by big announcements or media attention. He simply reappeared — one match at a time. What surprised many wasn’t that he came back but that he never really left.

“He is not just playing for the sake of it,” says Tariq Ahmad, one of the organiser of the Zainakote Champions Cup. “He is setting standards for the younger boys — just by being around.”

The younger boys are watching him. In Kashmiri towns where YouTube highlights of IPL heroes light up phone screens, Reshi is a live-action role model. And he knows that. The weight of expectations follows him onto the field.

“When people come out in such scorching heat to watch you, of course you feel that pressure,” he says. “You want to give them something to smile about.”

But Reshi is not only giving them cover drives and wicket celebrations — he’s giving them guidance.

“My advice to young cricketers is simple,” he says with the measured tone of someone who is thought this through a hundred times. “Train with purpose. Get to the ground. Sweat it out. But more than that — talk to seniors.”

Reshi believes the new generation is eager but often unsure.

“Some kids want to play for IPL, others want to make it to the Ranji Trophy, and many just want to shine in local leagues,” he says. “Each of those dreams requires a different route. If you are playing red-ball cricket, your discipline is different. If you are aiming for T20s, your skillset is different.”

“So talk,” he repeats. “Talk to someone who has walked the path. One good conversation can save you five wasted seasons.”

As the sun shines with heat, Reshi gears up to bat. His shirt is soaked through, but he doesn’t mind. This is still his game, his stage — even if the lights are fewer and the cameras missing.

Adil Reshi won’t feature in bigger fantasy league picks or make headlines for fat contracts. But here, on a scorched Kashmiri ground, he is still the most valuable player — not because he needs to be, but because he chooses to be.