The Headlines Call Him a Star, But the Team Sheet Might Disagree
RCB doesn’t do sentimentality. They do arithmetic.
While The New Indian Express publishes warm retrospectives about Devdutt Padikkal’s school days—complete with testimonials from teachers describing the “timid” boy who transformed into a star batsman—the franchise’s management room is calculating cold, hard numbers. Can they afford to carry a specialist opener when Josh Hazlewood and Pat Cummins are both unavailable? Does Jacob Bethell’s all-round utility trump Padikkal’s top-order elegance? And perhaps most uncomfortably: has Venkatesh Iyer evolved into the more versatile asset?
This is the devdutt padikkal story right now. Not the feel-good profile pieces, not the nostalgia tours through school corridors, but the brutal economics of IPL 2026 squad selection. And if the breaking news emerging from the RCB camp holds weight, Padikkal might find himself watching from the dugout when Royal Challengers Bangalore face Sunrisers Hyderabad.
From Timid Schoolboy to Selection Casualty: The Padikkal Paradox
The timing couldn’t be more cruel.
Just as journalists tracked down Padikkal’s childhood coaches to document his journey from a reserved, quiet child to a “star RCB batsman,” the franchise’s selectors are actively debating whether that star still burns bright enough to merit a starting spot. The New Indian Express profile paints a picture of organic growth—a boy who overcame his shyness through willow and leather, who let his bat speak when his voice wouldn’t. It’s the kind of narrative that builds brands and sells merchandise.
It doesn’t win T20 matches. Not automatically, anyway.
What the nostalgic profile doesn’t address—and what the current trending selection debate exposes—is that Padikkal has become a victim of RCB’s squad construction philosophy. The franchise approached IPL 2026 with a shopping list that prioritized English all-rounders (enter Jacob Bethell) and explosive top-order flexibility (re-enter Venkatesh Iyer). They didn’t plan for both Hazlewood and Cummins to miss the same fixture, but that forced absence has triggered a selection domino effect. With two premium fast bowlers out, RCB needs batting depth lower down. They need finishers who can bowl part-time. They need pieces that fit a puzzle Padikkal was never designed to complete.
The “timid” boy has become the expendable man. And the irony tastes like chalk.
RCB’s Arithmetic Problem: Too Many Cooks, Not Enough Bowlers
Let’s talk about the bowling crisis first, because everything flows from there.
Josh Hazlewood’s metronomic accuracy and Pat Cummins’ leadership from the front are irreplaceable assets in any T20 setup. When both go down—or travel, or rest, depending on which whispers you believe—RCB doesn’t just lose 8 overs of quality pace. They lose the strategic flexibility those overs provide. Hazlewood’s death bowling allows the captain to gamble early. Cummins’ short-ball threat changes how opposition openers approach the powerplay.
Without them, RCB’s management faces an uncomfortable equation. They must either play inferior replacement bowlers—likely domestic talents or benchwarmers without IPL pedigree—or they must compensate by beefing up their batting to post (or chase) monster totals. Most teams choose door number two. And when you choose door number two, you start looking at your batting order not as a hierarchy of proven performers, but as a collection of utility functions.
Devdutt Padikkal is a top-order specialist. He opens. He anchors. He plays the conventional game.
Venkatesh Iyer can open, but he can also finish. He can slog against spin in the middle overs. He can clear boundaries when the required rate climbs past 12. And crucially, he offers a few overs of medium-pace that, while not Cummins-quality, at least give the captain options.
This isn’t about Padikkal failing. It’s about Iyer fitting better. In franchise cricket, that’s often the same thing.
Yes, Venkatesh Iyer Makes Sense. That’s What Makes It Cruel.
We need to be fair here. This column isn’t a hagiography for Padikkal, and RCB’s selectors aren’t villains twirling mustaches.
If you strip away the emotion and look purely at the match-up against Sunrisers Hyderabad, Iyer offers specific advantages. SRH’s attack in IPL 2026 relies heavily on spin through the middle overs—Washington Sundar and possibly a returning Rashid Khan (if fit). Iyer’s ability to dispatch spinners over midwicket makes him a tactical weapon. Padikkal’s game, built around timing and placement rather than brute force, can get suffocated by disciplined spin.
Then there’s Jacob Bethell. The English all-rounder represents RCB’s future investment—a 20-year-old left-hander who bowls handy spin and fields like his life depends on it. Fitting Bethell into the XI alongside Padikkal creates a left-hand heavy top order that smart opposition captains can strangle with angle changes and bowling rotations. Dropping Padikkal to accommodate Bethell at three or four, while keeping Iyer as the floater, gives RCB ambidextrous batting depth that covers both powerplay assault and death-overs cleanup.
It’s smart cricket. It’s also ruthlessly impersonal.
The counterargument writes itself: Padikkal averages higher than Iyer in IPL cricket. He knows the Chinnaswamy Stadium’s dimensions intimately. He’s been the steadying presence when RCB’s innings have collapsed around him. But T20 cricket has evolved past the “steady presence.” The format now demands multi-dimensional threats or hyper-specialized finishers. Padikkal, stuck somewhere in between, becomes the man without a country.
What Nobody’s Talking About: The Profile Piece as Poison
Here’s the angle most commentators are missing while they debate batting orders and bowling combinations.
The New Indian Express didn’t just publish a profile—they published a psychological blueprint. By emphasizing Padikkal’s “timid” nature, by framing his success as a triumph over inherent shyness, they’ve inadvertently (or perhaps inevitably) fed the narrative that he lacks the aggression required for modern T20 cricket. In the locker room, in the WhatsApp groups where franchise decisions gestate, descriptors like “timid” carry weight. They suggest someone who might hesitate when the required rate hits 15. Someone who might retreat into his shell when the pressure mounts.
Never mind that Padikkal has played international cricket. Never mind that he’s faced Jofra Archer and Pat Cummins at their fastest. The “timid schoolboy” archetype creates a subtle expectation of fragility.
And now, with the breaking news cycle questioning his place in the XI, that psychological profile becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. If RCB drop him, they can point to tactical necessities. But the subtext—the unspoken justification circulating in back rooms—might well borrow from that profile’s language. “He’s not assertive enough.” “He doesn’t grab the moment.” “He’s still that timid boy, deep down.”
That’s brutal. That’s unfair. That’s also how professional sports operates when cameras aren’t rolling.
Padikkal isn’t just fighting Venkatesh Iyer for a spot. He’s fighting a narrative that suggests he doesn’t have the temperament for high-stakes cricket, even as his statistics suggest otherwise. It’s the kind of invisible battle that defines careers but rarely gets reported in the updates sections of sports websites.
The Only Question That Matters Now
So where does this leave Devdutt Padikkal? Where does it leave RCB?
If the selectors opt for Iyer against SRH, they’re signaling a philosophical shift. They’re saying that loyalty to performers—even star performers—expires when the squad dynamics change. They’re saying that Jacob Bethell’s integration matters more than Padikkal’s continuity. And they’re saying, perhaps loudest of all, that IPL 2026 is too important to worry about feelings.
But here’s the twist: Padikkal has been dropped before. He’s been the “next big thing” who became the “forgotten man” who became the “surprise recall” before. His career trajectory isn’t linear; it’s a series of resurrections. The timid boy didn’t become a star by accident. He did it by adapting, by evolving, by proving that quiet competence eventually forces recognition.
If he sits against SRH, he won’t sulk. He’ll calculate. He’ll watch how Bethell handles the pressure, how Iyer navigates the tricky Hyderabad surface, and he’ll prepare for the moment when RCB’s arithmetic fails them—because it always does. In a tournament this long, injuries happen, form dips, and “undroppable” players suddenly find themselves on planes home.
The real question isn’t whether Padikkal should play against Hyderabad. The question is whether RCB can afford to alienate a player who knows their culture, their expectations, and their failings better than any English import or Kolkata loanee ever could.
They might win the tactical battle against SRH by choosing Iyer. They might lose the war if Padikkal finds that fire the profile writers insist he’s always lacked—and directs it at them from the opposition dugout next season.
In franchise cricket, today’s benchwarmer becomes tomorrow’s executioner. RCB would do well to remember that while they’re solving their bowling crisis. Because Devdutt Padikkal didn’t stop being dangerous just because he stopped being guaranteed.
He just stopped being timid about proving it.
