Ben Stokes makes things happen before his well of miracles runs dry

In Gedling, an unnamed resident was awarded £100 in compensation by the council over missed garden waste collections. There was dismay in Bulwell at the announcement that the local branch of Boots would be closing in August. Meanwhile, a furious mother from Huthwaite accused Thorpe Park of “ruining” a family holiday by banning her from its Stealth ride on account of the fact that she only has one arm. “Having to get off the ride was very degrading,” said Lisa Johnstone, “and made my son nervous.”

Clearly, a busy news day in Nottingham. Perhaps it was hardly surprising, given everything else going on in the city, that Friday’s edition of the Nottingham Post could scarcely find room to mention the international sporting event happening in its midst. So it was that the second Test between England and New Zealand was demoted to a pitiful blob on an inside sports page.

If ever you wanted an idea of cricket’s place in the culture, then here it was. Trent Bridge was full on a glorious June day, but once you stepped beyond the ground perimeter you would scarcely have had a clue anything was happening at all. Most of the time, this is how Test cricket happens: hiding in plain sight, walled off in all directions, a secret party nobody knows about.

And so, half an hour before lunch, with New Zealand 64 without loss, Ben Stokes decides to give himself a bowl. Stokes, we are frequently told, is one of those players with the happy knack of making things happen. The ball seems to find him. You can’t keep him out of the action. These are some of the oldest and most mocked cliches in the book, tired aphorisms with no basis in measurable reality, beloved by bad commentators and abhorred by serious, proper cricket people. They are, in