Through the noughties, the SSC pitch was so flat Sri Lankans were granted a Test hundred there along with their birth certificates. There was a bleak, authoritarian air to SSC matches in that decade. Games took on the unsettling aspect of a military parade.
Mahela Jayawardene scored hundreds almost by rote here, and towards the end of his career, appeared more relieved than joyful at the milestone, almost as if he would have been court-martialled for falling short. Captains then had Muttiah Muralitharan wheeling away for days on end. Like with the general's favourite jeep, his wearing parts would be continually replaced - limbs reattached when they fell off, eyeballs popped back in their sockets when they went rolling along the floor.
In 2014, though, the old pitch was dug up along with the fossilised remains of generations of bowlers, and a new layer of clay had been put down. It is on this new strip that Rangana Herath smothered Pakistan with slow, lovable left-arm, in 2014. It is this strip that had been so seamer-friendly last year, that it inspired sweary, caveman, head-banging from Ishant Sharma. And it is on this pitch that South Africa almost lost a Test - saved on that occasion by rain, and batting so sleep-inducing that even its memory might prevent the conclusion of this sent...
But if there is a Sri Lanka batsman who is the opposite of the noughties SSC surface, it is Dinesh Chandimal. His strokeplay is by nature, effervescent. He is so talkative he could chat up a power pylon. Chandimal, as character and cricketer, is more like Galle on day five, where the outrageous routinely occurs. Even on his quieter outings, he is Headingley on the first morning. He drives wildly, cuts extravagantly, throws his every atom into the sweep, and is in general like a human baila tune at the crease. It is not always great, but it rarely fails to get a few feet tapping along.
In this innings, though, when the new SSC was contriving excitement with a score of 26 for 5, Chandimal embraced everything he is not, and contrived for viewers the old SSC experience. He made 132 from 356, when less than a year ago he famously struck 162 not out from 169. From the three sessions that he batted through, his returns were 30, 27 and 41. This was ballad batting. The block and leave were played again and again: two endlessly alternating chords.
If there were two strokes that woke you up like the passing of a freighter, they were the slogged four off Jon Holland, and the reverse-swept six against the turn of Nathan Lyon, hot on its heels. But soon enough, disruption forgotten, his innings, and the SSC, was allowed to drift peacefully off again.
This transformation of character took so much out of Chandimal that he was unable to take the field after his almost six-hour innings. Often a verbal runaway train after he has scored a hundred, Chandimal could barely muster one-sentence replies after play on Sunday. "I was under pressure before this innings," he said. "I didn't play that well for the reverse swinging ball. Because of that, I changed my approach a bit."
Batting in partnership with Chandimal, it was Rangana Herath who provided the day's liveliest moments. Clearly in the midst of a batting revival at this late stage of his career, Herath waddles to the middle frowning like an old man peeved to find kids playing on his lawn, and brandishes his stick irritably, slapping Josh Hazlewood over midwicket for four. Having exerted himself, he hobbled off soon enough, retiring hurt for 33 after he was hit in a nasty place. Thankfully, he recovered. His gentlepersonly bowling avatar was seen later in the day.
Through their second-wicket stand, Australia have now moved towards parity. But it is partly because of Chandimal that Sri Lanka can still dream of that rare whitewash. His was not one of the SSC's handout hundreds. No matter what the surface was doing, for this one, he had to wrestle himself.