Your future isn’t shaped by brilliance alone, but by the discipline you practice every day. When the applause fades and the spotlight dims, it’s your work ethic that will stand the test of time, writes ANOUSHA VASHISHT
There was a time, not too long ago, when two boys in white cricket uniforms stood side by side on a dusty pitch in Mumbai, chasing the same dream. They were schoolboys then—gifted, inseparable. Under the same coach, in the same nets, they honed their skills together. Their legendary 664-run partnership in a school match made headlines across the country. They were hailed as the future of Indian cricket. It seemed destiny would carry them forward together.
Both made it to the national team. Both had the eyes of the nation on them. One was calm, focused, and quietly intense. The other, flamboyant, expressive, and naturally explosive. The calm one went on to build a career that lasted over two decades, breaking every major record in the game and earning global reverence. The flamboyant one, despite a dazzling start, faded from the scene within a few years—and never returned.
But this isn’t a story about sport. It’s about two lives that began on the same pitch, under the same mentor, with the same opportunities—yet ended up worlds apart. And the reason comes down to one word: discipline.
The one who endured wasn’t necessarily more talented. In fact, early on, the other was seen as having the more aggressive, promising game. But success—whether in life or sport—is rarely about raw talent alone. It’s about how long you can stay in the game, and how you behave when no one is watching.
The one who succeeded kept his head down. He didn’t chase attention; he chased mastery. He treated every training session as sacred, even after becoming a national icon. He didn’t let fame disrupt his routine. He listened to his body, respected the game, and carried the pressure of a billion expectations without fuss. When he failed, he learned. When he won, he kept learning. There were no excuses. No scandals. Just the steady, quiet rhythm of someone who understood that greatness isn’t built on match day—it’s built every morning, when the alarm rings and the work begins.
The other had flashes of brilliance. He played a few unforgettable innings, drew gasps for his flair, and at one point even boasted an average that rivaled legends. But his commitment faltered. Training became optional. Off-field distractions took center stage. Reports surfaced about missed sessions, late nights, and lapses in fitness. The team moved on. He never found his way back.
Years later, he would appear on talk shows and reality TV, reflecting on what went wrong. Sometimes he blamed the system. Sometimes, he hinted at betrayal. But the harsh truth is this: no one can carry your discipline for you—not even your best friend.
It’s easy to stand out when you’re young and gifted. What’s hard is to sustain excellence. The spotlight doesn’t last forever. Talent might win you applause, but only discipline can win you longevity.
Today, one of them is remembered as one of the greatest the world has ever seen. The other is remembered with a sigh: “He could have been…”
Two boys. Same coach. Same field. Same opportunity. One became history. The other became a cautionary tale.
To the youth reading this—students, athletes, artists, dreamers—this is not a story from a history book. It’s a blueprint for your future. You may be walking alongside someone just as gifted, just as driven. But where you end up won’t be decided by talent alone. It will be determined by your habits, your mindset, and your willingness to do the hard, thankless work—over and over again.
Discipline isn’t glamorous. It doesn’t sparkle in bios or trend online. But it is the most powerful force shaping who thrives and who fades.
In a world of instant fame, quick likes, and short attention spans, the story of these two boys—once equals—should be a wake-up call. You don’t rise to greatness because you were better than others. You rise because you refused to give up on the basics. Because you trained on the days you didn’t feel like it. Because you respected the process more than the praise.
The one who made it didn’t cut corners. He didn’t let mood dictate commitment. He showed up. Every single time.
The one who didn’t lost more than a place on the team—he lost the legacy he could have built.
This isn’t a tragedy. It’s a lesson. A reminder that your habits shape your future more than your talent ever will. That who you become depends on what you do when no one’s watching. And that if you want to build a legacy—in sport, in work, in life—you must be more loyal to discipline than to desire.
Your future won’t be built on brilliance. It will be built on consistency.
The world may admire your talent, but it will remember your effort.
And when the applause fades, only one thing will remain: your work ethic.
(Writer is a 2nd Year student of BBA. LLB at Indian Institute of Management, Rohtak)