Anderson's sacrificial spirit is a credit to the competitor

When the time comes to look back on James Anderson's career - and that time might not be so far away - the options for highlights packages will be plentiful.

There have been many magical spells and memorable matches. There was the dream debut, the impeccable performance in Kolkata (2012), the first ten-for (against Pakistan at Trent Bridge in 2010) and the unplayable spells against Sri Lanka earlier this year. And that's before any mention of the numerous Ashes-defining performances, such as the destruction of Edgbaston 2015, the determination of Nottingham 2013 and the relentlessness of Melbourne and Adelaide in 2010.

But maybe it was a far less-heralded spell that typifies Anderson. A spell that left him with one of the great unwanted records in cricket.

In December 2013, England reached Perth with their grip on the Ashes hanging by a thread. While Anderson - and his fellow seamers - had bowled admirably in the first innings of both the previous two Tests, England's batsmen had been blown away by Mitchell Johnson and their fielders had failed to hold on to a succession of crucial chances. As a result, Anderson et al had been forced into the field again without the rest required for full recovery.

By the time the Adelaide Test was at its halfway stage, it had become clear that the pillars of the best England side in living memory were crumbling. Broken in body or mind, they looked dispirited and disunited. Australia had something special in Johnson and England, their tools worn out, knew they were beaten.

It was hot that week in Perth. Hell, it's hot every week in Perth, but that week was ferociously, absurdly, breathlessly hot. In the press box - actually a tent that might have been designed as an effective method of torture (or an oven) - laptops had to be placed in the fridge as they overheated and at least one person fainted. If the Fremantle Doctor exists, he wasn't taking calls.

Out in the middle, Anderson was trying to pick up the slack left by his colleagues. Through no fault of his own, Stuart Broad was off the field - and on crutches - having sustained a blow on the foot while batting. Graeme Swann had just been thrashed for 22 in an over - his last over in international cricket, as it transpired - and was coming to the conclusion that all his guile and experience could no longer conceal the fact that his exhausted elbow no longer allowed him to gain the dip and turn he once could. Tim Bresnan, for all his goodwill and efforts, was not the bowler he had been in 2010-11 - elbow operations do that to a bowler - and Ben Stokes was, at that stage, an unsophisticated batting allrounder.

So Alastair Cook turned to his old friend Anderson. Anderson had opened the bowling for England that fourth morning. Just as he had bowled the final over on the third evening. After a couple of fruitless overs, Cook took him out of the firing line, knowing that he was too precious to use in such a hopeless cause. Australia's lead was already around 450. The game had gone; the Ashes were going with it.

But then Swann was thrashed for 22 in that over, Stokes was taken for 9 and the new ball became available. Where else could Cook turn? His strike bowler had become his stock bowler and was then required to be a strike bowler again. As ESPNcricinfo noted, Anderson was the sports car used to transport scaffolding. By the end of the series, he had bowled more overs than any other bowler.

His reward? He was thrashed for 28 in an over by George Bailey. That's the same George Bailey whom Anderson had famously clashed with in the Brisbane Test. George Bailey who, while at short-leg, had been having a few words with Anderson as he prepared to face Johnson, whereupon Anderson mentioned that a fellow in his first Test might like to pipe down and earn the right to an opinion. Michael Clarke, supporting his team-mate, strode in and told Anderson to prepare for a "broken f****** arm". There are no rights and wrongs in there; it's just history and context. Being smashed around like this by Bailey was adding insult to injury. No bowler has conceded more from an over in Test history.

It's not much of a reward for answering his captain's call, is it? It's not much of a reward for his fitness, his commitment, his loyalty to his captain and team. He deserved better. But as Clint Eastwood put it, deserve has nothing to do with it.

Some see it as Anderson's most heroic performance; some his lowest ebb. There's no reason it can't be both.

Perhaps there are similarities with his early arrival in India? That's not to say this is a mission destined to fail. Not at all. History has taught us better than that.

The point is more that, as in Perth, this is an episode that demonstrates Anderson's remarkable character. It is an episode that demonstrates his unstinting desire to represent his country, to help his old friend Cook, and his competitive streak.

Some bowlers, looking at the India line-up and the pitches they can expect to find, would look at this tour, exhale and wonder if their injury might not have been rather well timed. They might not malinger, but they certainly wouldn't push the recovery process as far as Anderson has. They would make sure they are fully recovered and look to return on the early summer surfaces of England, on which Anderson is still peerless. They wouldn't send videos of themselves bowling to the coaches to prove their fitness. They wouldn't arrive on tour three Tests before the medics originally said they would. They wouldn't push themselves in the gym, at his age and with his reputation, to go on a tour where he seemingly has so much to lose and so little to gain.

Anderson has nothing to prove in India. He was magnificent in 2012. Series-defining good.

But he was 30 then and he's 34 now. The window between injuries seems to be closing. The pace seems to be diminishing. The spirit is willing, but the body? The sword outwears its sheath; the soul outwears the breast. He found little swing in 2012 but hit the pitch hard enough to gain just enough seam movement to trouble the batsmen. Can he still do that?

There is context here, too. India are spoiling to take Anderson down. The incident with Ravi Jadeja at Trent Bridge in 2014 was never satisfactorily resolved from an India point of view - the BCCI admitted at the time they saw their attempt to have Anderson banned as a service to world cricket - and they are passionately motivated to repay the trouble he has given them on the pitch and the abuse they allege he has given them both on and off it.

But Anderson doesn't fear that. Instead, he seems to relish the battle. He is desperate to throw himself into a series where the ball won't swing, there won't be any pace and when his own powers would appear to be on the wane. He is as hungry to represent England as he was as a teenager; determined to go the extra mile and risk his personal reputation for the good of the team.

You can see why Cook wants him. He knows that, whatever the match situation, he will have someone prepared to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. He knows that, however bad things are, he can rely on Anderson. When times are tough, these things matter.

Whatever happens in the next few weeks - and it seems as if Anderson is going to have to wait until the third Test, at least, before he wins a recall - it's hard not to admire Jimmy Anderson.