An alternate reality tells the story of England’s Yorkshiremen providing a blossoming partnership to save the summer
It is the morning after the day before. The beer-with-breakfast customers have emptied out of the Golden Beam pub on Headingley Hill and wound their way up St Michael’s Lane, scooping a second pint inside the ground as they head to their seats. The sky is bluer than Thursday, the mid-morning sun more powerful. It’s a day for broad-brimmed hats, factor 50 and batting, batting, batting.
Jerusalem’s opening arpeggio plays across the speaker system, and the two home ground heroes make their way to the crease. Jonny Bairstow wheels his arms like windmills. Joe Root crosses the boundary with his customary sprint-out-of-the-blocks and a couple of supplementary skips. There’s a proforma boo for Pat Cummins as he takes the ball for the first over. His week-old shiner is in full bloom.
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