Fortune favours the brave, they say.

Only the brave die young, they also say.

So, are only the brave fortunate enough to die young?

Then how does one explain the freakish, cruel stroke of fate that snuffed the life out of a budding cricketer?

Phillip Hughes would have turned all of 26 on Sunday had he been able to survive a tumultuous, turbulent and, in all, a terrible Thursday. But that was not to be. Instead Dame Fate struck. And she struck hard and cold. In the form of a nasty bouncer that took him off the field on Monday.

A young heart. A sinewy body. An eager mind. Carefree laughter. Furrows of worries that were yet to appear. Twenty-five is that. Twenty-five is about friends, sunshine, love and banter. And in Hughes’s case, about glory, greatness and gumption.

And about locker-room jokes. That his team-mates will now not hear any more. They stood dazed – in a state of stupor – as a pall of collective gloom broke over Down Under. And in that crowd stood one man who by now has died so many deaths, as he relives his action that brought this on.

For 22-year-old Sean Abbott, life will never be the same again. And cricket too. For the Gentleman’s Game has given him the most unkindest cut. Ever.

Rest in peace, Phillip Hughes.