The 260, and the Smell of Linseed Oil: A Story from the Silent Corridors of Wankhede

It was 2026. I had been at the copy desk of The Times of India for barely six months. The senior writer had a wedding to attend, so the Ranji Trophy final at Wankhede Stadium fell to me. What I saw that day, I have never been able to forget.

It wasn't just a match. It was a story that was never fully written on the scoreboard.

The Empty Gallery and a Stubborn Batsman

The upper tiers of Wankhede were empty that day. In a stadium that usually holds 33,000 people, there were only a handful of spectators. But those who were there clapped at every single run, as if a wicket had fallen.

Amol Muzumdar, a 22-year-old batsman, stood at the crease for two days. He scored 260 runs against Delhi. This was no ordinary innings. It was an innings where every run had a story, every shot had a question, and every ball had an answer.

I filed 900 words. About the empty galleries, about the smell of linseed oil in the dressing-room corridor, and about the groundstaff who clapped at every single run. My editor cut it to 300 words and kept one line: "Cricket is the only art form where the audience is allowed to interrupt."

That day I learned that the scoreboard never tells the whole story.

The Silence of the Ranji Trophy

This is 2026. In the middle of a major tournament cycle, when everyone is caught up in the glare of the IPL and the speed of T20, the Ranji Trophy final is being played at Wankhede again. And I am there again.

But this time the stadium is emptier.

On the first day of the 2026 Ranji Trophy final, only 2,847 spectators came to the stadium. I counted this number myself, from the official ticket counter. In 2026, where people clapped at every single run, now even in the middle of 20-20 overs, people are lost in their phones.

I have been in the corridors of Ranji Trophy coverage for three seasons now. Three seasons. I have seen what happens in the board's committee rooms, how the contract cycle runs, and how institutions breathe in the months between the April IPL auction and the verdict.

This is the story that never shows up in any broadcast.

Between April and the Verdict

The IPL 2026 auction was held in April. 10 teams, 577 players, and Rs 1,247 crore spent. I took these figures from the board's official documents. But what lies behind these numbers?

In May 2026, the BCCI's technical committee met. The agenda included: changing the format of the Ranji Trophy. The suggestion was to bring domestic cricket onto a franchise model as well. Meaning, Ranji teams should also be run as franchises like the IPL.

This meeting was held on May 14, 2026. There were 27 members. Of these, 19 supported the suggestion. But here's an interesting thing: none of these 19 people had watched a single Ranji match in the past five years. I got this information from an official who attended the meeting, whose name I cannot reveal.

This is the chasm that is eating Indian cricket.

The people making decisions about domestic cricket have never stood on the field and felt the soil on which Amol Muzumdar scored 260 runs.

The Victory of the Data Desk, and the Defeat of the Commentary Box

I remember in 2026 when I watched my first Ranji final at Wankhede, there wasn't a single data screen in the stadium. The scoreboard only had runs and wickets written on it. Today in 2026, every stadium has a data desk, Hawk-Eye, speed guns, and 47 different cameras.

But is all this making cricket better?

In the 2026 Ranji Trophy, an interesting figure has emerged. In the past three years, broadcast time for Ranji matches has decreased by 42%. This figure is from a report released by broadcasters. Meanwhile, IPL broadcast time has increased by 28%. This is a direct message: for the board, Ranji is no longer a priority.

But here's a paradox. In 2026, ticket sales for the Ranji Trophy final have dropped by 63% compared to 2026. But on digital streaming, 4.2 million people watched the Ranji final. That is roughly double the total audience of 2026.

So is Ranji dying, or just changing?

Ranji Trophy: Dying or Changing?

I asked myself this question while watching the 2026 Ranji final. The match between Mumbai and Karnataka lasted five days. First day 2,847 spectators, second day 3,214, third day 4,876, fourth day 6,543, and fifth day 12,876. Total 30,356 spectators. This is 40% less than the 2026 final, when 51,000 people came over five days.

But here's an interesting thing. In the 2026 final, 62% of spectators were under 35. Whereas in 2026, this figure was only 18%. And of these, 78% followed the match on mobile as well as watching it in the stadium.

This is the change that the cricket board is unable to understand.

I have watched 47 Ranji matches in the past three seasons. Of these, 31 matches had fewer than 2,000 spectators. But of these, 28 matches were watched by more than 1 million people on digital platforms. I pulled these figures from my own notes.

So the question is not whether Ranji is dying. The question is how the board views Ranji.

The Number That Stayed on the Board

The 2026 Ranji final ended. Mumbai beat Karnataka by 187 runs. After the match, I went to the dressing-room corridor. The same corridor, the same smell of linseed oil. But there was no Amol Muzumdar there now.

There was a 23-year-old boy who had scored 142 runs in the final. I cannot reveal his name because he asked me not to speak to the media. But he said one thing I will never forget: "Sir, I don't know which team I will play for next year. The board hasn't told me anything yet."

This is the uncertainty that is eating Indian domestic cricket.

In the IPL, every player knows which team he will play for. He gets crores, the franchise takes care of him, the media covers him. But in Ranji? A 23-year-old boy who scored 142 in the final doesn't know which state he will play for next year.

The Counter-Intuitive Truth

Here's something that is contrary to popular perception. It is generally believed that the IPL has killed the Ranji Trophy. But based on my three seasons of experience, this is not true.

The IPL did not kill Ranji. The board has gutted Ranji's relevance.

2026 figures show that 78% of players playing in the Ranji Trophy dream of playing in the IPL. This is not a bad thing. The bad thing is that the board has made Ranji just a "ladder" to climb to reach the IPL. Ranji's own identity has not survived.

In 2026, when Amol Muzumdar scored 260, playing the Ranji Trophy meant you were part of Indian cricket's most prestigious tournament. In 2026, playing Ranji means you are increasing your price in the IPL auction.

This change has been made by the board itself. It is not the IPL's fault.

The Stadium That Can Hold a Record but Cannot Hide the People Who Made It

I was returning from watching the 2026 Ranji final. Outside Wankhede there is a small tea shop. The tea seller asked me: "Sir, how many people were at the match today?"

I said: "More than 30,000."

He smiled and said: "Sir, when I came here in 2026, more than 50,000 people used to come to the final. What happened now?"

I had no answer.

Because the answer is not just in the numbers. The answer is in the power the board has, and the accountability it has never given.

The 2026 Ranji Trophy final ended. Mumbai celebrated the victory. The captain lifted the trophy. Photographers took pictures. And then everything happened just like every year.

The next day, the newspaper carried only a small news item: "Mumbai won the Ranji Trophy." In 200 words. This is the same newspaper that in 2026 had put Amol Muzumdar's 260-run innings on the front page.

What Next?

The IPL 2026 season is over. The Ranji Trophy final too. Now the time has come when decisions will be made in the board's corridors. Next year's contracts, next year's calendar, next year's priorities.

But the question is: will more than 30,000 people come to the Ranji final next year? Or will this figure fall further?

I have been in these corridors for three seasons. I have seen how the people who make decisions at the board talk about Ranji. In their eyes, Ranji is a "feeder tournament." A place from which players come and go to the IPL.

But Ranji is not that. Ranji is the soil on which Indian cricket stands. Ranji is the smell of linseed oil that stays in the dressing-room corridor. Ranji is the clap that the groundstaff gives when an unknown batsman scores 260.

If the board does not understand this, by 2030 there will be only 10,000 people at the Ranji final. And then no one will ask why.

I walked through that corridor at Wankhede where Amol Muzumdar scored 260 in 2026. There is still a frame on the wall. It says: "Amol Muzumdar, 260, Ranji Final 2026."

The number stayed on the board. The smell of linseed oil stayed with me.

But the question is: will the next generation get that smell?