The Saturday of a headquarters Test has its own mythology which both the weather and the cricket lived up to
KL Rahul stood in the deep, with champagne corks arced around him like a shower of meteorites. India’s centurion did not look impressed. He had owned this ground on Thursday. But this was Saturday, when the crowd tends to treat the outfield as an extension of its picnic area. Seeing how far one can spray one’s Piper-Heidsieck has become a sport in its own right.
It is the posho equivalent of throwing coins from the stands and ought by rights to earn a swift fine or an Asbo. But the Saturday of the Lord’s Test has its own rituals and its own mythology.
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