Nobody saw it coming - not a whole afternoon with barely a run scored. In truth, hardly anyone saw an afternoon with cricket as an option. When play began on the fifth day of the third Test at Lord's, the consensus was that it would be done and dusted either side of lunch. Then, as Indian wickets fell like confetti from the hot, blue sky, most of us wondered if we'd get any lunch at all.
But cricket has rarely behaved as expected. It is a game of unpredictability, driven as much by human frailty as by the strength of character that gets the players there in the first place. Think how often you have settled into your seat to watch your favourite take guard or mark out his run-up and how quickly you have been let down. Cricket, and especially Test cricket, is a game of patience for us all. It is frequently difficult and frustrating. It is a game of instinctive skill that relies on method for its excellence. No cricketer is remotely the same. There are imitations, but no clones, mainly because so much of it is played in the mind. And, of course, cricket is fragile - one minute you have it, the next it is gone.
If Ravindra Jadeja had his time again, would he play that remarkable, out of character innings the same way? Or would he go for broke from the outset, before England retreated to the field settings that denied him the oxygen of boundaries? Remember that when he arrived at the crease there were still recognised batters in hand, which gave him options. Once KL Rahul, Washington Sundar and Nitish Kumar Reddy had gone, the options went with them.
Shane Warne played his part in "finding" Jadeja when he captained Rajasthan Royals in the first IPL. Jaddu was just a kid - a rough diamond, really - but Warne immediately identified the quality in his bountiful gifts and the flair, so much so that he christened him "Rock Star". Almost unbelievably that is 17 years ago. After which, Warne did many things, the last of them too final to bear. Jadeja too, has done many things, not the least of which is to become one of the best, most entertaining and popular cricketers in the world.
Which led me to wonder what Warne would have said about his innings had he been commentating. Probably Warne would have said he should have gone hard out of the blocks; that the counter attack is easier when the field is up and the opposition are looking to take your wicket. Once they sit back, happy to give you a single and bowl at the other guy, it gets a whole lot more difficult. Which isn't to say Warne would have been right. There were 22 runs and a back-spinning defensive shot in it. That, over five days, is precious little.
And at the moment of the back spin, with Siraj batting, as the ball rolled gently back onto the stumps and a bail tumbled off, what would Jadeja have thought? That he got it right or wrong? And in that question, is a truism: that the greatest gift in high-level performance is to make the right decisions under pressure.
At the time, I felt he got it right. Rahul had fallen ten runs after his arrival. The pitch was difficult, irascible in its variable bounce and pace, and therefore hard for the batters to make the play. Washington followed Rahul in the blink of an eye but Reddy was to be trusted, and had after all made a wonderful hundred in Melbourne last Christmas on a tricky pitch against a mighty attack.
Together Jadeja and Reddy batted for 15 overs, like cowboys weighing up the odds in the last-chance saloon, knowing full well that there was no one out there to help. They would have talked about pulling the trigger, but figured they were better together, chipping away at a tiring attack. They could not have predicted the extent of the Ben Stokes superpower or the level of his team's desire. And then, when Reddy took a bullet, Jadeja was left with Jasprit Bumrah, Mohammed Siraj and another 81 runs to find. England set deep, biding their time and playing on nerves. For two hours, as next to nothing happened, no one left their seat. And so it was we saw Test cricket's greatest trick, the ability to make next to nothing into theatre.
Bumrah fell to the bouncer tactic and Siraj to the arrows of fortune. Jadeja stood unbeaten, dumbfounded, gutted and alone. The England players went warmly to each of them, knowing what it takes when the stakes are so high. Jadeja would have done the same. There was honour in defeat and no guilt. Jaddu made his choice, fulfilled his part of the deal and ran short of partners. Would he do the same again? Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps even he doesn't know.
That story, those vignettes are a part of history now, not to be dwelt upon in the days ahead. Jadeja is in good form and surely has crucial roles to play. He is a savvy cricketer, both adaptable and adventurous. you would never back against him rising up to play the winning hand in the match directly after the one in which he finished so forlorn.
What of Stokes, this great warrior. A friend who played first-class cricket himself thinks Stokes the greatest leader England has had in any sport. If that is an exaggeration, it cannot be by much. For a start, he is an incredible cricketer. The run-out of Rishabh Pant in the first innings, the influential batting while not at his best, the titanic bowling - that phrase about not being able to get the ball out of a bowler's hand has rung true this series all right. He pretty much literally bowled until he dropped at Lord's, hammering the ball into a hard length that gave the power players in the Indian line-up no respite. Yes, he leads from the trenches but does so with both a plan and a message. His players know where they stand and exactly what part they must play. They are a team in the collective sense, chosen to realise a series of mini-ambitions that collate as the whole.
Take Zak Crawley, who so many are always so keen to drop. Ben loves Zak because Zak is tough; because Zak looks the opponent in the eye; because Zak is not intimidated; because Zak is "team"; because Zak is spirit, harmony and consistency of plan; because Zak can catch everywhere; because Zak can bat and because Zak doesn't flinch.
Crawley made 22 in the second innings, when Bumrah kept hammering his gloves with thunderbolts that burst from the surface. The margin of victory was 22. England could have lost a couple of wickets that niggly evening but Crawley punched back at those hits as if he were a boxer on the ropes. Then he used small and reasonable excuses - advertising on the sight screen and a glancing blow to the hand - to use up a big chunk of time, thus saving England another over at the stroke of 6.30pm. Ben likes Zak because he doesn't wilt, whatever the provocation. And Ben wants Zak in Australia, the land where many Englishmen have wilted.
Crawley explains why Stokes is the leader he is. This criteria in selection may not have been a path well trodden. In the old days, players were dropped for staying out late or batting too slowly or failing twice. Then, more recently, it turned full circle and became easier to stay in the team than get out of it. Now these decisions are based on character and personality every bit as much as performance. Stokes knows exactly what he wants and Crawley is that soldier, for many reasons other than averaging 40.
To England, this eight-day break has been gold. For India, a frustration. Shubman Gill and his men would have preferred to get right back on the horse. Defeat needs closure, but while the mind has time to wander, it tends to wander where you don't want it to go. England have had a breather, simple as that, and then they go again with an eager and combative Liam Dawson back amongst it
Jofra Archer and Bumrah are playing: of course they are, it's the witching hour. What a sight each of them is - so different, so impressive. People are saying Bumrah is the best fast bowler ever. Who knows? But he's up there. Nature plays its part in these things and, in Bumrah's case, gave him a late release of the ball from a position fractionally past the perpendicular. This gives him an angle to work with and the gift of delivery closer to the batter than is usual. And boy does it show. Everyone's in a hurry against Bumrah, even on slow pitches, and most play and miss as a matter of course. This is wonderful to watch and horrible to play against. For a time, and in a more bombastic way, Freddie Flintoff had a bit of Bumrah about him, and in that time he too spat the ball from the pitch with the sort of violence that very few have managed before or since. Ask Ricky Ponting.
Then there's Archer, who makes fast bowling look absurdly easy, which it isn't. His snorter of a ball to Pant in the second innings at Lord's could have made for a highlight show of its own. The throat bouncer that roughs them up is a wicked thing, cruel in its physical threat and unerring accuracy. We all remember Steve Smith at Lord's in 2019. We doubted we'd see it again but perhaps we are. Fast bowling is one of cricket's great spectacles. Well performed, it is the game's greatest weapon. We have a real good 'un in an England shirt and great 'un in an Indian shirt. What's not to like. Welcome to Manchester, folks.