There are times when Steve Smith is surprised by a shot he has just played. Not surprised that it has worked so well, or badly, but that it has happened at all. He stares down at his hands, his bat, as though his body has betrayed him, like a rider might look down at a backfiring motorbike or an ill-tempered horse. There is Smith the vessel and Smith the occupant, acting out the concept of dualism for a live studio audience.
That was Smith in Manchester yesterday. His first ball of the fourth Ashes Test was unremarkable: short without menace, one to watch sail by. Instead Smith heaved at it, a circular dragging movement like he was halfway down the Amazon and trying to sling a large python over the side of a small boat.
