The moment that a batsman reaches an important landmark always assumes an importance at a cricket match. Some spectators anticipate it with a rhythmic clapping; others watch attentively, sometimes nervously. Those outside the press box usually make sure they’re in place, jotting down the details. The fielders know it’s a time to cash in on the tension; the batsmen knows the world of a difference that a hundred makes compared to a score in the nineties.

Younis Khan milks the moment as he brings up his hundred © Getty Images

When Younis Khan was on 96 on the first evening, those at the half-filled Gadaffi Stadium watched expectantly. Those in the Sarfraz Nawaz Enclosure had already begun waving their Pakistan flags; those at the Javed Miandad Enclosure were already on their feet. Younis faced up to Irfan Pathan, bowling over the wicket, with Rahul Dravid stationed at a short straightish mid-off, not too far from the non-striker. Younis took a bit of time and surveyed the field. Pathan ran in – somehow he appeared a bit more charged up – and delivered a full-length ball on middle stump.

Younis brought his bat down, with a little care, a little style and made sure the ball made contact somewhere close to the sweet spot of the bat. What happened next was awesome to watch. The ball sped back at a greater velocity, Dravid lunged to his right, Pathan lunged to his left, Younis lunged forward, and Darrell Hair began to take evasive action. The ball beat them all, raced past the stumps and hurtled towards the sight-screen. Younis was half-way down the pitch when he knew there was nothing that could stop his hundred. As he jogged, his bat began its upward ascent. He slowed down, removed his helmet and smiled, an ebullient smile, which got wider and wider.

Some batsmen, like VVS Laxman, celebrate hundreds with serene calm; some, like Yuvraj Singh, with fist-thumping joy, some, like Michael Slater, with animal-like leaps, some, like most batsmen trying to prove a point, with rage, some, like Ricky Ponting, with kisses. There are those who think it’s a chance to answer their critics at the press box, others who, like Michael Hussey, enjoy the moment that they have waited for ages and ages. It’s a fine moment to witness, when the crowd interacts with the player, and when the players responds. It’s one of those ontological joys of watching cricket. Today, Younis gave it to us in ample measure.