From the Bench to the Backbone ft. Nitesh Kumar

There is something about certain players that you notice long before the world does. Maybe it is the way they warm up, maybe the way they watch the match even when they are not playing, maybe the way they enter the mat like they have already visualised every moment in their mind.Nitesh Kumar was one of those players.

He came to Tamil Thalaivas as a New Young Player in Season 10. At that time, the left corner wasn’t empty. There was already someone holding that position really well. So Nitesh mostly sat on the bench, waiting, clapping for others, learning quietly. Some boys get restless when they don’t play. But Nitesh would pick up his kit the next morning and train as if his debut was that very evening.

His coach back home wasn’t surprised. That’s how he had always been. He would show up even if he had fever, tie his shoelaces and get on the mat because he believed missing practice was worse than losing a match.

Season 11 didn’t start with his name either. He was again in the dugout. The jersey was the same size but the desire inside him was bigger.He sat through those first few matches with his eyes fixed not on the scoreboard but on the flow of the game. He would notice which raider took long strides, which one breathed heavily before running, which one lowered his shoulder before escaping. He didn’t just watch, he absorbed.

And then came the day his number was called.

That moment is hard to explain unless you’ve been in a dugout before. Everything feels faster, louder, sharper. But when Nitesh stepped onto the mat, it was like he had rehearsed it in his head a hundred times. He didn’t try to impress anyone. He just did what he always knew. He tackled strong. He tackled smart. He tackled like someone who was tired of waiting but not angry about it. Slowly, match after match, substitution after substitution, his spot in the seven wasn’t questioned anymore. He belonged there.

By the end of that season, he wasn’t just playing. He was defining himself. Best defender of the season.More tackles than anyone imagined he would get.More High 5s than people expected from someone who started on the bench.For the world it was a sudden rise. For him it was simply his work finally becoming visible.

Later that summer, when the team visited his home in Sisar Khas, the village didn’t act surprised. His parents weren’t shocked. His brother wasn’t emotional. They all had the same expression you see in people who always believed this would happen.

We asked his brother whether Nitesh had changed after winning the award. He smiled and said,

“He still wakes up before everyone else. He celebrates but only for a day. Then he returns to practice, because he thinks winning once means nothing if you don’t repeat it.”

Sisar Khas teaches kids kabaddi without stadiums. Open grounds, patches of dry soil, a rope tied to two trees to mark the boundary, and matches that don’t care about prize money.

Nitesh grew up there. He still goes back there. He plays matches where the only reward is experience. You won’t hear him say this loudly but everyone around knows it: growth comes not only from tournaments but from the hundreds of nameless games that sharpen instincts.

Season 12 didn’t slow him down either. Until the very last match, that orange band stayed with him. The confidence didn’t come from the title but from the responsibility he carried with it. At just twenty one, he wasn’t playing like a youngster. He was playing like someone who understood timing better than strength.

Today when Tamil Thalaivas step onto the mat, everyone notices the right corner where Sagar stands tall. But if you look to the left, you’ll see where the quiet storm begins.

Nitesh doesn’t speak much. He doesn’t make dramatic gestures. He just waits, watches, and chooses his moment. And when that moment comes, he doesn’t miss.

Some stories don’t end with a perfect line. They just continue.

And Nitesh’s is still being written.