The entire Sri Lankan team stood together, their collective gaze fixed on the giant screen. The next moment, as the magic word "out" flashed, euphoria broke out. Sadeera Samarawickrama broke out of the huddle and did his own imitation of the Imran Tahir sprint.
Before his team-mates could catch him, Samarawickrama had run some 25 yards, towards the cover boundary, punching the air in jubilation. He was so overjoyed he suddenly changed directions. He was so ecstatic that he didn't know where to run or how to celebrate. His mates eventually caught up with him, giving him sweaty bear hugs.
It was a marginal call and it went in his favour for a brilliant catch and, just like that, we'd had another Peak Sri Lanka moment. One where they make scarcely believable stuff seem like child's play. This episode involved putting the modern-day ODI behemoths in a tailspin in conditions England's game was best suited to.
Come on. If not in Bengaluru, where else could England have potentially Bazballed their way into the World Cup, albeit belatedly? This was right up their alley. Flat deck, small ground, cooler air. All served up on a platter. What's more, they even won the toss. Jos Buttler didn't conceal his glee when he said "bat first".
The rub of the green was with them. How else could you explain Sri Lanka bailing out of a review they seemed dead sure about? It was the first ball of the match. Dilshan Madushanka had bowled the perfect inswinger, the late tail in so lethal that it sent Jonny Bairstow stumbling inside the crease as he tried to get bat to it. After a mid-pitch conference that made 15 seconds seem more like 15 minutes, Sri Lanka collectively decided against it.
Maybe they did not want to let the excitement and adrenaline get to them this early. They went back to their places half-heartedly. And then they saw, after the next ball, replays on the giant screen that laid bare a potentially costly mistake. The collective groan of "ayyyyo" told you a story. They had been so near to a perfect start. Instead England were 3 for 0.
At mid-off, Angelo Mathews shook his head in disbelief. Maybe he was thinking the sprint he'd just made, chasing after the ball all the way to the long-on boundary, would've been worth it had they reviewed (Bairstow got a good chunk on the ball, but it was pad first). He didn't just sprint, he even put in a dive after a few moments of "should I, shouldn't I?"
At 36, he'd just sauntered into his fourth World Cup. Barely believable considering he was at home 10 days ago, having made peace with his exclusion. This was another moment of Peak Sri Lanka. Out in the cold one day, but right back in contention the next. You're never really out.
Ridiculous things continue to happen. Mathews last took an ODI wicket in March 2020. He hadn't played too many ODIs over the past three years. He'd cheekily said he was ready to do anything, literally anything, the team needed. Surely that didn't mean being summoned to bowl the seventh over?
What do we know? He comes on and strikes immediately, dismissing Dawid Malan with a beauty. The ball cuts sharply off the deck, cramps the batter for room and flicks the edge. Mathews extends both palms, exuding the "I'm back" look. You can't keep him away.
You think surely that's as eventful as it can get for Mathews. Nope, there's more coming. He's everywhere now. He's beside the captain Kusal Mendis, imploring him to have a slip in place for the fast bowlers, offering words of advice to Kasun Rajitha, lurking at point like a hawk. And suddenly when Joe Root hits one his way, he swoops in quickly to fire a rocket throw to Mendis. The pressure had been creeping up on Root. He's in a daze, the dive can't save him, he's gone. Mathews has woven magic again.
Breakthrough provided, run-out effected, spell completed. Or so you think. Surely that's three overs more than he expected to bowl anyway. But England are just beginning to build an inkling of a partnership. Moeen Ali has just cut loose, Ben Stokes has reined himself in all this while waiting seemingly to explode a bit later. The scorecard seems less dire than it did at 85 for 5. Enter Mathews again.
He trundles in casually. Floats up a length ball. Moeen has decided he's giving this a whack. But there's no pace on it, instead he now looks to steer it square. The ball gets big on him just a touch. Boom. Kusal Perara has gobbled it up at point. Mathews has his man. At 122 for 6, England have been slam dunked. Mathews has struck once again as soon as he's brought on.
Sri Lanka are switched on. So switched on that you wonder what's changed in a week's time. The chirp is back. There's energy stemming from having the world champions on the rack. This wasn't how it was supposed to pan out. Surely there was another "you cannot do that, Ben Stokes moment" waiting to unfold. He has been simmering underneath his helmet, waiting to burst open.
Until he picks out deep midwicket on 43 with 20 overs left. Dushan Hemantha, the substitute, took the catch with his palms facing upwards. Stokes throws his bat up as he walks off. This is a dream unfolding for Sri Lanka. And there's one more moment of Peak Sri Lanka magic to unfold: the run-out of Adil Rashid.
There is a book called Blink by the Canadian author Malcolm Gladwell. It is made up of anecdotes and psychological case studies on impulsive decision-making. What Mendis did to produce this wicket for Sri Lanka will fit very neatly in that book. He collected a delivery down leg and looked like he was about to just toss the ball back to the bowler and then he saw Rashid wandering out of the crease at the non-striker's end. In a split-second, he took aim and hit the bull's eye. Gone.
It summed up England's day of horrors. Sri Lanka were now in a position to Bazball England out of the World Cup - or something close enough to that. It all seemed straight out of a fairy tale. Except it wasn't. It was Sri Lanka doing Peak Sri Lanka things.