The ball comes out perfectly. Wrist cocked and straight, fingers behind the seam. The length is perfect: full enough to hit the stumps, not full enough to drive. The line is perfect: off, maybe off-and-middle. A little away movement and the edge is in play, the same edge that Mitchell Marsh found twice at Headingley. Or it thuds the pads and gets him leg-before for the 44th time in a largely underwhelming red-ball career.
In short, it is exactly the ball you bowl if you want to get Zak Crawley out. The ball the analyst would tell you to bowl. The ball every fast bowler strives to master. What you do not expect is for the batter to stand up in his crease and clout the ball into the crowd with all the scornful insouciance of a man plonking a seven-iron on to the 16th green at Augusta.
