Even when my luck’s right out; well, it turns out my luck’s also right in. On a lovely morning at Lord’s, one of those days where even the outfield seems to ripple under the hard flat London heat, the first day of the third Test dished up another instalment in the extraordinary cricketing life of Zak Crawley.
At times, entering The Crawley Zone, it can be hard not to feel a moment of double take. What is this thing? Why is it happening? Is there anything that might actually interrupt the progress of one of the most weirdly frictionless Test careers, an entire elite sporting existence that seems most of the time to be taking place at a mate’s picnic?
