Eleven Test knocks are in, these are the only innings in which he has failed to get over 50. Of the eight times he has reached a half-century, he has now made hundreds four times. If you have followed Sri Lanka’s men’s cricket over the last decade, it is fair to have questions. These may include:

I would like to apologise to almost every other batsman who has made their debut since 2010, but starts like this just don’t happen for Sri Lanka. Even the best-case scenarios go something like this: they arrive in a storm of home form, make an early impression with a back-against-the-wall fifty or a century batting in the slipstream of a more experienced player, and get a decent run in the side on the strength of their potential.

And then the decline: the average slips from the fifties to the forties and then probably drops to the thirties. They get dropped from the team by the next round of selectors, attracted to the newer, shinier thing. Our man goes back to the Sri Lankan A team, to domestic cricket, and if they work hard enough, a place opens up and the gods are kind to their work ethic, they return to the highest level.

It might be helpful to think of Sri Lanka’s best young Test batters as following the life cycle of insects. They emerge from their eggs, voracious as caterpillars, and constantly devour the opposition’s attacks. But soon they mature in international matches and pupate in a cocoon stage where they become extremely vulnerable. A harsh treatment from a coach or a few rough innings can end their careers, like a careless toddler with a stick or a hungry lizard. The best we can hope for is that they eventually emerge as butterflies.

Dimuth Karunaratne, currently Sri Lanka’s most successful opening batsman, had such a dreadful slump in form in 2016 that he was out for many months. Dinesh Chandimal had such a dreadful performance against the bouncer in 2014 that Sanath Jayasuriya – the then chief selector – relegated him back to the senior team in the middle of a Test series. Kusal Mendis, Lahiru Thirimanne and then, a generation back, even the likes of TM Dilshan and Thilan Samaraweera stayed away from the Test team for long periods.

By the evening he was nearly a hundred years old, Kamindu was a calm negotiator of O’Rourke’s missiles, a Jedi Master fending off the questions of a temperamental Padawan. At one point he played an O’Rourke maiden without appearing the least bit nervous.

“These things happen. Bowlers bowl good phases. You have to wait for the balls you can hit. Don’t get complacent. Get back in front when the bowler gets tired. Take as few risks as possible in the meantime.”

This is the kind of batting wisdom that very experienced batters like to dispense about newcomers to the team, but which Kamindu, in his seventh Test, seems to know instinctively. He was dropped attempting a sweep on the 21st over, but did not seem even the least bit rattled, just as he remained composed after many plays and misses on a tense first day.

He reached 100, his first in his hometown, on the court where he played many matches for his school, and celebrated by lifting his racket by his shoulder rather than the handle – always a powerful sight. But it lacked the exuberance that often accompanies such milestones.

It obviously meant a lot to him: “This is my hometown, and Richmond College, the school I attended, is here,” Kamindu said. “The thought was going through my head that I had to beat a 100 mark here.”

But that’s all he congratulates himself on, because the answer soon turns to good boy. “But to be honest, as a batsman you shouldn’t be satisfied with just a hundred. You have to achieve more. Unfortunately, I was thrown out.”

The ball he hit out at 114 was a monster, by the way. Ajaz Patel landed it about 70cm outside the off stump, in one of Tim Southee’s big footprints, and the ball bounced to Kamindu, where it hit the batsman’s shoulder, and bounced up to be gobbled up behind the wicketkeeper.

This was in many ways the least surprising of his hundreds. It came on a pitch he knows well, the ground he grew up on and where he frequently used the sweep and reverse that have earned him many runs in all age groups and in first-class cricket.

What strikes you now, though, is the series. He has two hundreds in Sylhet, a century in Manchester and now his first at home in Galle. You can and should admire that technique – superbly organised in defence against pace and spin, but equally capable of scoring runs from right in front of the wicket with balls that others would normally block or leave lying.

What to look out for now, and what he has hinted at with his spectacular fielding all over the field, his two-handed bowling that he swears he needs to improve, and the confident critiques he delivers with a microphone in front of him, is whether he has the next gear after scoring 809 runs in his career – whether he is a player with exceptional hunger.