Old Trafford crowd savours Root and Woakes

Eleven o'clock on a bright, slightly sticky Saturday morning in Manchester. Mohammad Amir runs in from the Statham End and bowls to Joe Root, who is 141 not out. The ball is on a good length but wide of the off stump. Root plays no shot and it passes to Sarfraz Ahmed behind the stumps.

And so another day in the grass arena has begun. One ball has been bowled and there are scheduled to be roughly 539 more; or a minimum of 1617 pieces of action if we include the participation of bowler, batsmen and fielder. Some will be faithfully recorded and never mentioned again; others, the dismissal of Ben Stokes, for example, will be reviewed and scrutinised for, perhaps, five minutes.

"I wouldn't care if it was another sport but cricket takes up so much of the day." With these words the partner of even a club player explains why things aren't working. Yet for many of its supporters the length of a first-class cricket match is the essence of its attraction. They like the slow accretion of events and the way time imposes its demands. They enjoy their T20 matches - this isn't an either/or dilemma - but they appreciate a format in which a cricketer's endurance and mental strength are examined and in which batting for ten hours receives its due reward. It is, for them, truly a ball-by-ball game in which progress can be close to invisible.

And so they enjoyed Root's 618-minute innings and his Jesuitical quest for absolution after his transgressions at Lord's. Successful Test batsmen are defined by their ability to go on. For them, a century is a junction not a terminus. So it is with Root and it was curious how his watchfulness in facing the Pakistan bowlers in that first session was matched by that of most spectators as they, in their turn, watched the way he began again.

For most people on earth, the idea of being watched as they work is inimical; for sportsmen it is essential. And the symbiosis between the crowd and cricketers repays its own close attention. We watch the watchers watching the watched. The applause that greeted Chris Woakes's first fours - a cut, a cover-drive, a square-drive - were almost celebratory, as if the good times had begun to roll and another drink was, indeed, the order of the day.

Root, though, continued to wear a hair-shirt and we were 16 overs into the morning before he found the boundary courtesy of an edge and Younis Khan's dropped catch at slip. He scored 44 runs in that first, exploratory session and only after tea did he bat as if truly liberated. By then, of course, there were beer snakes and fancy dress; some spectators may have watched the cricket a little less closely than they had in the morning. Stokes and Jonny Bairstow played trampling innings on tired fielders, hoping that weight of runs would earn early wickets. There was less intensity but more fiesta; summer in full, good-humoured riot.

Then the declaration and a re-cranking of tension. A new guttural as James Anderson ran in from the Pavilion End. Earlier in the day Anderson's team-mates, suddenly spectators themselves, had watched from one of the pavilion balconies. But it was not the local hero who made the breakthroughs. That honour fell in large measure to Woakes, whose three wickets were greeted with fresh roars as spectators scraped their plate in the last hour of the day.

6.25 on Saturday and the air is a little fresher, the clouds higher. Stokes runs in from the Statham End and bowls to Shan Masood. The ball is on the off stump and the batsman plays it defensively and safely. There is a slightly subdued gasp from the crowd as if the air had been released from a huge balloon. Then ringing applause for the England players as they return to their dressing-room.

For Woakes this has been another fine day; his shares on cricket's stock-market have risen. He has masqueraded as a nightwatchman and reinforced his position as a potent strike bowler at a time when England are not short of them. As the crowd disperses, many are talking about how his bowling has helped make their day memorable.

Within fifteen minutes Old Trafford is almost deserted and a few minutes later Pakistan's players, rucksacks on their backs, are returning to their coach, trooping over the outfield like blue-uniformed trekkers.

And so it ends, this gentle, fierce ticking down of 540 pieces of action, the shape of it all collaborative, confrontational, intense. "If you rush, you'll never get anywhere," said the man on the gate this morning.