Abdul Rashid was just a boy when, in 1967, his father took the family from Pakistan to Halifax to start work in a local textile mill. In due course, Abdul himself would follow Rashid Snr into the business. But when the time came to consider options for his own sons, Abdul had bigger plans.

A keen club player, Abdul pushed them towards cricket. He set up coaching devices to be used around the house, the favourite being a tennis ball on a rope attached to the ceiling of the basement to be whacked in perpetuity. At 18 yards’ length, the basement itself wasn’t quite long enough to bowl properly. Still, it would have to do.

I once saw him physically manoeuvred into a chair to mumble a few barely-discernible quotes to a bunch of journalists (“Go on, Rash, mate, just a couple of minutes…”), and this was after he’d bowled out Australia. These days he walks differently, talks differently. The Bosanquet of Bradford has arrived. Can he stay for good?