Mohammed Siraj and the art of trying hard

India stopped. Mohammed Siraj did not.

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Mohammed Siraj is running in for his 19th over. He shouldn't be bowling, but on India's tour, no one else is left. Anshul Kamboj is already a trivia question, Shardul Thakur is quite clearly done, Arshdeep Singh maybe never existed at all and Jasprit Bumrah has finally been given the long rest he so badly needs.

And that's not even mentioning the other bowlers in this match. The spinners just can't do much. Prasidh Krishna is bowling short balls that just aren't bouncing, and there is a man who looks like Akash Deep. He is even wearing his shirt, and has that familiar square jawline and pointed facial hair. But whatever we have in front of us, it is no longer the Akash who rattled England at Edgbaston or even bowled a ten over spell a few days back.

So India are left with Siraj. The latest estimate of India's population is 1.4 billion. A nation of plenty has somehow left themselves with only one bowler.

His captain, Shubman Gill, asked him for a gut-busting spell, and he did. Then another, then one more. At one end, Mohammed Siraj was putting in absolutely every last piece of himself. The rest of India sat back, tired and defeated.

Mohammed Siraj just tried hard; he tried hard at trying hard. It felt like he would bowl forever if asked, or even just allowed.

The ball he delivers at the end of his 19th over is just a length delivery outside off stump, fading away from Joe Root. Root easily opens the face and steers it between a floating fifth slip and a deep backward point. India's greatest outfielder is down there, but Jadeja is cooked. He doesn't even get close.

Siraj stands, mid-pitch, deeply breathing, rubbing his chin. He is unsure as to how again he's given his all, and again, he's got nothing from it. He gets the ball back and rubs it really hard, lifting up his entire shirt. He pounds back into the crease and delivers another outswinger; Root just yawns as he lets it go through to the keeper.

Siraj is yelling, but no one is listening.

Next over, he's at extra cover, which is not a normal place for a man of his limited fielding ability. Brook crashes a muscular drive to his left, hitting it very hard. Few fielders would get near it, and Siraj has no hope. But he dives with everything he has, throwing himself at the ball and then rolling meters beyond from where he took off.

It was a boundary. It was always going to be a boundary. But no one told Siraj. His teammates had long ago turned into statues. But he still has anima. He is living for this. He believes in something that no one else can see.

But after that last effort, maybe even he’s done. He slumps down beside his hat like someone who's been trying to stand for too long. He looks like a woman of means who has just passed out onto her fainting couch. He can't get up. Not again. That seemed to be his last moment of energy. It was all drained from him. There is simply nothing left of Mohammed Siraj, which means there is nothing left of India.

Brook smashes another boundary to follow and sensing that there are parts of Akash Deep he has not yet broken, he runs down to flat-bat him into oblivion. But the ball bounces slightly more than anyone expects. Brook tosses his bat away behind him and the ball spoons up.

It floats gently in the still South London air towards extra cover. It floats gently to Siraj.

A lifetime ago, when India were still massively in front in this match, another ball floated to Siraj. Brook was trying to end India, and he’d decided that everything must go. But Prasidh Krishna still had energy, and when he hit the wicket hard, it took the top edge. The ball flew so high that it seemed to go above the light tower. Standing under it the entire time was Siraj.

He got himself into a good spot, just inside the boundary, watched the ball all the way down, and then grasped it safely in his hands. If there was an error, it was only slight, and it was about balance. So instead of standing still, he took a slight step back, and that was one small step for mankind, but one giant blunder for the Indian cricket team.

Harry Brook was out, and then not.

And so, here we have it again. The next chance is flying towards Siraj - a noted bad fielder. But this time, there was no rope, and there was no drop. It was just a wicket.

And he did little more than take a catch that 98% of pro players would have. But with that, he gave India the energy he had. And suddenly, instead of one Siraj, there were eleven, or even 1.4 billion of them.

Harry Brook plays a big drive off Washington Sundar out to long-off. It’s nothing more than two runs. Akash Deep is chasing it, or maybe that’s the wrong term. He’s moving in the direction of the ball, slowing down to intercept it. Instead of a simple pickup and throw, he tries to stop it with his foot, and somehow manages to actually kick it into the boundary. The crowd laughs at him. He picks up the ball - and drops it as well.

The following delivery, Washington gets good drift. It takes the outside part of Brook's bat and rolls safely into no man's land. The English star gets another hundred, this time in a fourth innings chase.

This is India's day in two deliveries. England picking up runs even without trying. And when the Indian bowlers do something right, nothing good comes of it.

When there's a break in play, the Indian team doesn’t even come together. They can barely move. Ravindra Jadeja looks exhausted when running, he barely gets to balls near him. And when he bowls, you can tell he's completely cooked. India use backroom staff to throw back boundaries, but usually the fielder chases towards them.

This all stops in the middle session.

Yashasvi Jaiswal seems to stand still for about three and a half minutes at one point. The only person moving around quickly is Abhimanyu Easwaran. He’s replaced Karun Nair in the field, and he's doing full-frontal dives and even sprinting faster than Jadeja. He’s like a 14-year-old boy playing his first game of senior cricket, doing all the fielding while the 40-year-olds with bad backs watch on.

India’s captain Shubman Gill is almost translucent, like a hologram. He doesn’t seem to speak to the bowlers all that much. He occasionally gets upset at a fielder if they’re not listening to him, but perhaps they’ve forgotten he’s even out there. At one point, KL Rahul tries to have a discussion with him, but Gill just doesn’t budge. His captaincy is still more pond than stream.

The Indians in the crowd also fall asleep. They started the day as the loudest voice in this ground, and now they've been silenced. Virat Kohli would run or gesture at them in these times, but the current team mimics their fans.

When there are runout chances, Washington Sundar falls over the first time and misfields the second one. At one point, India take a review. But that’s more because there’s just nothing else to do. It’s more like a stocktake than a crazy end-of-year sale.

This is done. England will chase. India will lose. An entire series of missed moments culminating in the final day showing the difference between these two teams.

India are tired, fried. This is the highest-scoring five-Test series ever, and it’s not even far behind the most for a six-Test series. It is only the second time in Test cricket history that 7,000 runs have been scored in a single series. And it looks like India have lived every single one of them.

Siraj looks tired, at least physically. But mentally, he’s alive. At one stage, he looks at the lifeless corpses of his teammates who are fielding for him, and he claps at them while he is at the top of his mark, trying to wake them up. He should be thinking about his next ball. But he’s trying to get some of his energy into them. Someone has to listen to him.

Later, he’s in the field and the Indian fans get quiet again. He turns around and tells them to stand up. He’s conducting all of India.

He has somehow only taken two wickets in this innings. No one who saw this will know how. He went past Ben Duckett’s bat so many times that I’m shocked someone didn’t come out and check if it was hollow. Siraj had been in an emotional tryst with Root’s front pad seemingly all day. Brook has scored off him, but showed lots of respect along the journey as well. Siraj should have taken more wickets. He should have been rewarded.

But eventually, it’s Akash Deep who takes Brook's tired slog. It’s Prasidh Krishna who ends Jacob Bethell’s painful knock. And then the slender man takes the roof off the entire stadium with the wicket of Root.

Now the ground is loud, now every cricket fan in the world is leaning in, now there is energy in this contest.

This is how Siraj has been playing all day. It just took a while for the entire game to catch up.

Siraj dives at balls that no man can stop. He motivates his team while he is bowling. He takes a catch with a foot on the rope, then one without. He forgets his hat, shakes his head, strokes his chin, runs in while forgetting to deliver the ball. He bowls unplayable deliveries, bowls bouncers an hour into his spell, pleads with the umpire for a harder ball. He beats the outside edge, the inside edge, goes over the stumps and hits the knee roll - outside off, or on leg.

He hides in the field. Drops his hat. He points. He screams. He jumps. He gives advice to anyone still listening. He tells people it isn’t out. He tells people it is out. He hugs his teammates. He investigates the pitch. He reminds the crowd to cheer.

India stopped. Mohammed Siraj did not.