Melinda Farrell writes an open letter to Ben Stokes ahead of the crucial Headingley Ashes Test, at a point where England’s approach is at a potential crossroads.

Hi, Ben.

Hope you’re well.

I’m writing in response to the open letter you wrote in The Players’ Tribune ahead of the summer. You know, the one in which you explain that there’s no such thing as a bad shot? And what you’re trying to achieve with ‘B-ball’ (I’m trying not to use that term because I know you guys don’t like it. But if it slips out, please forgive me).

A lot has happened since then, some of it involving actual cricket. So much has been said about ‘that’ incident at Lord’s (blimey, hasn’t that kicked off!) and everyone seems to have overheated to spontaneous combustion levels.

But now we’re at Headingley and England are two-nil down. Backs-to-the-wall stuff. That is, of course, the situation that brings out the full Stokes Beast Mode. We all remember what happened here in 2019 and at Lord’s we were reminded of your freakish ability to construct a bubble that surrounds you and fills you with clarity and focus. From the outside it appears a fusion of calm and ferocity that few of us mere mortals will ever experience.

I’ll confess something to you, even though I know you’ll never read this (you have more pressing matters at hand). But I’ve loved the past 14 months of Bazball (sorry!) Whether watching on my mum’s telly, sitting up through the night in Australia, waking up early in South Africa to witness the madness in New Zealand, or right in front of me here.

People much smarter than me have described it as a cult and perhaps I signed up and started paying tithes without even realising it, even though I’m supposed to be a detached and indifferent observer. After last summer’s series against South Africa it even inspired me to quit my full-time job to pursue other opportunities. I kid you not.

During The Kia Oval Test, after spending weeks watching and listening to people in and around the team, I wrote:

“Apply it to your own life; what would you achieve if fear of rejection or failure could be removed and replaced with self-belief and the feeling that those who matter are in your corner, no matter what?

“Would you quit a job that makes you unhappy? Move to the other side of the world to chase adventure? Ask the person you secretly fancy out on a date?”

It was the last thing I filed before embracing the carpe diem philosophy. I resigned and have been chasing cricket adventures around the world ever since. Ok, I haven’t asked anyone out on a date but, y’know, baby steps.

It hasn’t always been easy and there are times when uncertainty has pushed me close to panic. I don’t know how long it will last. But I don’t regret it for a moment.

Perhaps it’s a little like your England side now, committed to this philosophy. You believe in it, you feel it brings out the best in your players and it’s great when you’re winning and everyone is cheering you on.

But when it doesn’t result in the highs of victory it’s harder to stay the course, even though you say results don’t really matter. If this wasn’t the Ashes, if it wasn’t Australia (I’m a dual citizen, remember?), people wouldn’t care as much as they do now, especially since the discourse has turned a bit Ashes-y feral.

There are many waiting for it to fail; the death of Bazball (whoops again!) headlines have already been written and are ready to print. If things don’t go well in Leeds we may read them in a few days time.

Every passage of play and end-of-day quote has been dissected and analysed; from endless barrages of short-pitched bowling, to that declaration, and to shots that have been, well, if we can’t say ‘bad’, then we’ll use your preferred description of not well executed. I’ve read and heard them all; reckless, brainless, a lack of situational awareness, not ruthless enough and a stubborn determination to stick to the mantra at the expense of common sense.

So now we’re at ground zero, the Test that will be the real test of the high ideals and the legacy chasing. I have no idea how it will unfold but, along with millions around the world, I won’t be able to look away any more than I have through this whole crazy ride. And maybe that’s the point.

It’s a funny thing, but my time reporting on international cricket is closely aligned to your time playing it. The first men’s Test I covered was your debut in Adelaide. I confess, I didn’t pay much attention; Mitch Johnson didn’t leave room for anyone else.

But I sat up in Perth when you made your first Test century, a lone act of defiance when everything around you was crumbling under a ruthless Australian onslaught. ‘Might be something there,’ I thought. Looking back, it’s almost laughable.

A year on, I was there for the 2015 World Cup disaster and the English summer of white-ball madness that followed. All the way through to Lord’s in 2019 and I never thought I could again experience such nerve-shredding tension. Until Headingley took the tattered remains of those nerves and mangled them again. The deja-vu at Lord’s was almost too much to bear.

But the memory that returned this week is from 2015. It was at a Chance to Shine street cricket session, held at night in Spark Hill, where Moeen Ali grew up in Birmingham. You were right at home, spanking the ball about with a bunch of teenagers and chatting to them in a way that resonated because you spoke their language.

There’d been a massive spirit of cricket stink during the second ODI at Lord’s when Mitchell Starc collected the ball and fired it back towards you and the stumps at the striker’s end. You instinctively held up your hand as you turned and threw yourself back in the crease. Australia appealed and you were given out obstructing the field. The boos from that day probably weren’t outstripped until last Sunday. It meant you were two-nil down in the five-match series.

It was our first ever interview and you said: “The crowd at Lord’s did get a bit out of control, I guess. There was a lot of booing going on, but it’s one of those decisions where no one can look back on it and have any regrets because it’s been made and you can’t change what’s happened.

“It’s just unfortunate that it came to the uproar it has, and it’s probably taken away from the fact that we actually haven’t played very good cricket in the first two games, which is probably the biggest thing for us. So we just need to try and put it behind us.”

While the situation is a bit different now, the similarities struck me. You and the new-era England under Eoin Morgan won the next two matches. The decider went to Australia, making it 3-2. Earlier in the summer England had won the Ashes 3-2.

3-2. Few would think that’s possible in your favour, but then we’ve all watched the impossible unfold often enough under your captaincy. You say it’s the perfect place to be for the way England play.

In the next five days we’ll find out.

And whatever the result may be, it feels like we’re all standing together at the crossroads.