You have to start at the end. The celebration is unlike any other. Usman Khawaja starts recognisably, jumping as he crosses for a run, brandishing the bat like a fist pump with custom extensions. But the feeling boils up in him, something frothing its way to the top and over.
He throws his bat away, one arm up involuntarily like the jukebox just hit the chorus of Don’t Stop Believin’. It’s not a clean throw, no mic-drop drama, not planned. The bat tumbles from his hand to the ground because his body flails, a physical expostulation as response to a feeling that he does not know how to express.
