Rising from the depths: Srikanth and his rebirth in Shenzhen

When the scoreboard read 18-19 in the second game, I saw Kidambi Srikanth's eyes through the screen. Not the eyes of a man losing, but of one who had fallen to the bottom and knew he had nothing left to lose. The final three points — 19-19, 20-19, 21-19 — were scored with the kind of composure that only those who have waited five years can understand. That night in Shenzhen, a 33-year-old Indian shuttler did what many thought impossible: defeated Victor Lai, the world No. 9, in their first-ever meeting, and reached the quarter-finals of the China Masters Super 750 — his first since 2026. To understand the significance of this moment, one must look at the long road behind it. Srikanth was once world No. 1 — a title any Indian shuttler dreams of, and he touched it in 2026. But elite sport does not forgive age, and his fall was as swift as his rise. Five years without a Super 750 quarter-final is a long void — long enough for many to write the obituary of his career. But in Shenzhen, against a younger, faster opponent at the peak of his form, Srikanth proved that tactics and composure can still defeat youth. The match against Victor Lai was not just a victory. It was a symphony of adaptation. In the first game, Srikanth trailed 11-15 — a significant gap in the 21-point format. But instead of panicking, he slowly adjusted his tempo, drew his opponent into long rallies, and closed the game 21-18. The second game was a different story: the opponent had learned his lesson, and the match became more contested. When the score reached 18-19, most spectators probably thought of a third game. But Srikanth did what veteran players do — he stayed calm, waited for the opponent's mistake, and finished the match with three consecutive points. That was not power. That was wisdom. Srikanth's story does not stand alone in Shenzhen. The pair of Satwiksairaj Rankireddy and Chirag Shetty — former world No. 1 pair — were writing their own story. Their quarter-final against the French Popov brothers lasted 69 minutes, a battle of endurance and spirit. After losing the tense second game 22-24, many might have doubted their ability to recover. But the deciding game was a display of dominance: leading 6-1 from the start and finishing 21-9. The 12-point margin in the deciding game speaks not only to superior fitness but also to the ability to read the match and adjust tactics — a complete shift in approach between games. I have followed many pairs in my commentary career, and I can say that the difference between a good pair and a great pair lies in the ability to completely erase what happened before. Satwik-Chirag did not just win the deciding game — they played as if the second game had never existed. That is a rare psychological skill, and it will be a crucial weapon when they face Denmark's Kim Astrup and Anders Rasmussen in the quarter-finals. But not every story in Shenzhen had a happy ending. Tanvi Sharma, the young Indian shuttler, fought for 66 minutes against Tomoka Miyazaki, Japan's world No. 9, before losing 17-21, 21-18, 16-21. Her match was a portrait of progress and yet-unconquered limits. She won the second game 21-18 — a clear signal that she can compete at this level. But in the deciding game, when pressure was highest, she could not maintain consistency. This is not a failure — it is a lesson. And in women's sport, lessons like these are often overlooked because no one records them. The court does not remember, but I do. I remember what happened in Shenzhen that night — not just the victories, but also the moments of doubt, the missed shots, and the sweat falling on the court. I remember how Srikanth rose from the depths of obscurity, how Satwik-Chirag erased the memory of a lost game to write a winning one, and how Tanvi Sharma walked off the court with her head held high despite defeat. There is something many people do not realize when looking at the scoreboard: the commercial value of a win is never equal to its competitive value. Srikanth may not win the title in Shenzhen. But his return to a Super 750 quarter-final after five years of absence sends a powerful message — not just to opponents, but to the Indian system itself, which is witnessing the rise of a new generation but also needs veterans like Srikanth as anchors. The Moscow night in 2026 taught me that there are victories no one sees. The Shenzhen night in 2026 is another proof: there are victories where people only see the result on the scoreboard, but not the five years of waiting, the lonely training nights, and the times of wondering whether one is still good enough. When Srikanth steps onto the court in the quarter-final against Hong Kong's Lee Cheuk Yiu, he will not just carry his racket. He will carry everything that happened in the past five years — and that is the weapon that no statistic can measure. The ball never waits for those who walk slowly. But sometimes, the slow walker is the one who understands best the value of each step. And in Shenzhen that night, Srikanth showed us that a comeback is never too late — as long as you still have the courage to keep moving forward.