Some stories begin with a cover drive. This one began with a scrapbook.
Naman Tiwari was eight years old when he started cutting out pictures of Sachin Tendulkar from the newspaper. He pasted them in a notebook he hid behind his school textbooks. His father Surya Nath thought the boy was studying. He was actually building a shrine to speed he had never seen live.
The Tiwari family lived in a rented room in Gomti Nagar, Lucknow. Surya Nath woke up at five every morning. He worked construction sites in the afternoon. In the evenings he knocked on doors selling insurance policies for LIC. Three daughters were in school. Cricket was a luxury they could not afford.
But Naman kept asking. He asked for a year. Then two. He asked with the persistence of a kid who knows he has no other option. When he turned nine, his father gave in. He enrolled him in a local academy but told his wife not to expect much. “One point five billion people in this country,” he said. “How many play for India?”
The switch
The academy had forty boys. Thirty-nine of them wanted to bat.
Naman stood in line for his turn at the nets. He waited two hours. By the time he walked in, the session was over. The next day he watched the fast bowlers. They never waited. They thumped stumps out of the ground and walked back to their mark. Nobody told them to hurry up.
He went home and told his mother he would bowl. She asked if he was sure. He said yes. He was twelve. He made a promise to himself that day. He would become the fastest bowler in the world. Not a batsman who could bowl. A bowler who would make batsmen afraid.
This decision changed his body. Most fast bowlers in India start late. They play as batters until fifteen or sixteen. Then they grow tall and switch.
Naman started when his bones were still soft. His spine shaped itself around the rhythm of a run-up. His shoulder learned torque before it learned anything else. By fourteen he had a high arm action that coaches usually spend years trying to teach.
Deal with his father
Surya Nath Tiwari had his heart attack when Naman was twelve. The family had no savings. The rented room felt smaller. The daughters’ school fees were due. The hospital bills sat on the table like a threat.
Naman found his father sitting on the bed one evening. The room was dark. He sat down next to him. He said he wanted three years. Three years to try cricket. If nothing happened, he would stop.
He would study. He would get a job. He would help with the sisters’ weddings. But give me three years, he said. Let me see if I am good enough.
Surya Nath looked at his son. The boy was too young to be making deals. But he was also too serious to refuse. He said yes. They did not shake hands. They did not write it down. But the deal was made. Every ball Naman bowled after that carried weight. It was not practice. It was proof.
The Coach who had no ground
Yash Sahani was twenty-three when he met Naman. He was not a certified coach. He did not have a turf wicket. He had a motorcycle and a bag of old balls. They trained in Janeshwar Mishra Park. They trained on the street outside Naman’s house. They trained wherever they found space.
Sahani had theories. He believed Naman was too short for a fast bowler. He made him hang from tree branches every day. Ten minutes. Arms fully extended. Let gravity pull the spine. He made him bowl bouncers on concrete. The ball would skid through.
Naman had to find extra pace to make it rise. Local uncles walking by would stop and laugh. “This coach is killing the boy’s career,” they said. Sahani ignored them. Naman did too.
The hard length became Naman’s weapon. Not swing. Not seam. Just pace hitting the deck and climbing at the throat. He bowled to batsmen who either learned to duck or they learned to walk home.
Numbers that mattered
2018. Fourteen wickets in the Raj Singh Dungarpur Under-14 tournament. First real selection. First real proof.
2019. Rejected for the Vijay Merchant Under-16 team. He went back to the park. He bowled faster.
2021. Twenty-six wickets in the Uttar Pradesh Under-19 tournament. The pandemic had stopped cricket for a year. Naman used the time to grow into his frame. He came back stronger. The National Cricket Academy called. He travelled to Bangalore for the first time.
At the NCA he saw Jasprit Bumrah in the nets. He watched how Bumrah prepared for a match. The stretching routine. The mental check before each ball. Naman wrote everything in a notebook. He still has it.
2024. The Under-19 World Cup in South Africa. Twelve wickets in six games. India played on bouncy tracks in Bloemfontein. The ball flew through. Naman took four for twenty against USA. He took four for fifty-three against Ireland. He bowled short at their ribs. They could not handle it.
After the tournament he bought a flat in Lucknow. His first purchase. His family moved out of the rented house. The deal was complete. The risk had paid off.
The net bowler years
For four years Naman was invisible. He travelled with IPL teams but did not play. Two seasons with Rajasthan Royals. Two with Lucknow Super Giants. He bowled in the nets while the cameras pointed at the stars.
At Rajasthan he stood next to Trent Boult. He asked about the inswinger. How do you make it shape late? How do you hide it from the batsman’s eyes? Boult showed him the seam position. The wrist lag at release.
Naman practiced it for six months before it started working.
At Lucknow he met Zaheer Khan. The left-arm legend spent hours with him. They worked on bringing the white ball back into the right-hander. Naman had struggled with this.
His natural angle took the ball away. Zaheer adjusted his wrist. Small change. Big difference. Zaheer told him his action was clean. He said with time and patience, he would play for India.
Naman kept notes. He still does. Every conversation with a senior player goes into the book. He has filled three notebooks. They sit in his kitbag next to his cricket shoes.
The IPL auction
Abu Dhabi. November 2025. The IPL mini-auction.
Naman’s name came up late. Base price thirty lakh. Delhi Capitals bid first. Rajasthan Royals jumped in. The price crossed fifty. Then seventy. Lucknow Super Giants raised their paddle at ninety. They stopped at one crore. The hammer came down.
One crore rupees. For a boy who once bowled on streets because there was no ground. For a father who sold insurance policies and wondered if his son was wasting his time.
Surya Nath watched the auction on his phone. He did not celebrate much. He sat quietly. Later he told a reporter that his dream had changed. Before he wanted his son to get a job. Now he wanted him to win a World Cup final. And be man of the match.
What he brings
Lucknow Super Giants needed a left-armer. They had Mohammed Shami swinging it one way. They had Anrich Nortje steaming in. They had Avesh Khan hitting the deck. What they did not have was variety. The angle that makes right-handed openers nervous. The ball that comes across them and then darts back late.
Naman provides that. But he provides something else. Bharat Arun, the bowling coach, has worked on his death bowling. The slower ball off the back of the hand. The wide-crease yorker. The knuckle ball that floats and drops. Naman is no longer just a hit-the-deck bowler. He is learning to be a complete T20 operator.
He spent January 2026 in South Africa. Lucknow sent him to their sister franchise, Durban Super Giants. He trained with Lance Klusener and Tom Moody. He rebuilt rhythm after a side strain. He bowled on fast pitches against batsmen who had played international cricket. He came back ready.
The three things to watch
First, the powerplay inswinger. If Naman can move the new ball back into the right-hander, he opens the game for LSG. Two bowlers swinging it different ways. Captains dream of this.
Second, the middle-over bouncer. T20 cricket has become a game of ramps and scoops. Batsmen step across and paddle. Naman bowls at one hundred forty-five kilometers per hour. He aims at the shoulder. This is not a wicket-taking ball. It is a stop-scoring ball. Sometimes that is enough.
Third, the mind. Most young players feel IPL pressure and freeze. Naman made a deal with his father when he was twelve. He has already faced the worst kind of pressure. The kind that involves hospital bills and family survival. Cricket pressure is easier. He knows this. It shows in how he walks to his mark.
The story continues
Naman Tiwari is twenty years old. He has not played a single IPL match yet. He has already bought his family a house. He has already represented India at a World Cup. He has already survived the thing that breaks most young players.
Doubt. Financial doubt. Personal doubt. The doubt of an entire system that tells village boys to study and stay safe.
He kept his scrapbook. It is in the new flat now. Sachin Tendulkar on every page. A batsman who became a god. Naman wanted to be like him. Instead he became something else.
A left-arm fast bowler with a high action and a hard length. A boy who hung from trees to grow taller. A man who made a deal and kept it.
LSG will play at Ekana Stadium. The pitch is slow. The boundaries are long. It is not a fast bowler’s paradise. Naman will have to adapt. He has done it before. From village to city. From street to stadium. From doubt to belief.
Surya Nath will watch from the stands. He no longer sells insurance. He manages his son’s affairs now. The skeptic has become the believer. The father who once asked how many play for India now asks when his son will wear the blue cap.
The answer is coming. It always was. From the moment a boy hid his scrapbook behind his textbooks and dreamed of speed.