If Test cricket is constantly on the therapist’s couch trying to work through its never-ending existential crises, Sri Lanka are the 11 trishaws outside, incensed that Test cricket’s SUV is blocking half the lane, honking up a storm.

This, at least, tends to be the Sri Lanka men’s Test side’s vision of itself, forever outsiders, forever straining against bigger powers than they could ever meaningfully have sway over.

They are often justified in feeling this way. Their schedule is largely dictated by when other teams would like to play them. They would like more Test cricket but their board has genuine trouble organising a busy schedule for them. (Their own board doesn’t merely schedule the profitable tours, by the way; Sri Lanka have hosted both Afghanistan and Ireland for Tests in the last 18 months.)

But this is an island of 22 million whose economy has crashed since 2021, and as such has limited financial clout, as far as brodcasters are concerned. It is also a team that fans in the biggest cricket economies – England, Australia, India – do not necessarily believe are particularly serious rivals.

And so every big tour becomes a de-facto referendum on their invite-ability. Are they up to adapting to these conditions? If they won’t beat an imperious England, can they at least sufficiently resist them? Will they compete? For the first time ever, Sri Lanka were in England for the fancy part of the English summer – their August/September fixtures. For the first time in almost six years, they were playing a three-Test series.

There is the pressure you feel when you go out to bat and the ball is hooping, and the slips are licking their lips. Then there is this pressure: don’t let your team down here, because if you do, no team from Sri Lanka may ever get the chance again.

How about Nissanka, who began his international career as Sri Lanka’s premiere fist-class batting talent, before taking a long detour through white-ball formats to return to Tests as a fearless, and dynamic opener?

There is only so much a single Sri Lanka victory can achieve. But with luck, this will be some reminder that what is good about Test cricket isn’t only a conversation about scoring at more than four runs an over. It’s not just about reverse-sweeps, reversing pressure, scooping over the shoulder, bludgeoning the bouncers, never letting the bowlers settle.

Perhaps it is a reminder that conversations about saving Test cricket can begin with recognition that there is a great world out there, in which teams concoct all sorts of mad new narratives. That there is a world beyond The Ashes, or the Border-Gavaskar, or England vs India series, that is full of life and vibrance that is worth taking more seriously than cricket currently seems to be.