In the next over, the clock ticked down again. This time, it was James Anderson’s turn to hit his pads with a ball that moved in after pitching. Umpire’s call. Anderson was finding plenty of movement and had already accounted for Rohit Sharma (bowled) and Yashasvi Jaiswal (caught in the cordon). Under the helmet, an anxious-looking Gill survived again.

But he was fighting. Raging against the doubters (and proving some of them right in the process). When he’s on it, it is a joyous experience. Watching him bat is to be in the middle of a cymbals-led orchestra. A glorious symphony of thunderous crash, bang, wallop. Right now, none of that is true. It resembles a band whose singer has a throat infection.