In Sri Lanka's most-recent match, against England, Lasith Malinga swung the ball an average of 1.1 degrees in his opening spell. According to Cricviz, this was the most swing any bowler had generated that day by at least 30%.
At first sight, Malinga's is an action that seems more suited to stirring a cauldron than moving a ball through the air. It is pretty much offensive to any purist swing-bowling coach. Yet, when Sri Lanka's batsmen had put up a modest score and needed bailing out, Malinga not only outswung his own team-mates, but also, Mark Wood, Chris Woakes and Ben Stokes, who have bowled in English conditions all their lives. Outswung them by so much, it was practically an affront.
Creating offense, however, is just what Malinga does. What he has long been doing. A quick tour through history: at age 23, his new blonde-tipped curls had antagonised board bigwig Arjuna Ranatunga. Soon after, when the world was still side-eyeing the IPL in its early years, Malinga was an ungrateful, cash-chasing charlatan, as any number of talk shows or newspaper columns had it. Behind closed doors, he clashed with former bowling coach and patron saint of Sri Lankan seam bowling, Chaminda Vaas. Out in the real world, fans complained that he was the only Sri Lanka player refusing to pose for photos or dish out an autograph. Sports ministers, selectors, administrators, senior players, junior players, probably his own reflection in the dressing room mirror - Malinga has angered, and has been angered by, all. Neither side has been shy about expressing their feelings.
Where other players mellowed with age - Kumar Sangakkara less mouthy in later years, Ricky Ponting becoming almost cuddly by the end of his career - Malinga has instead felt himself evermore wronged by life, the universe, and everything.
Since being dropped for seven months last year, he has unapologetically become a living, breathing, slinging f*** you to haters. You think you can't have a paunch and bowl fast? Check yourself. He is a force in the biggest T20 franchise tournament on the planet - his over to win the IPL containing five deliveries at 140kph or higher, before he slipped that killer slower ball in. But then he must be prioritising IPL over commitments to his home board, right? Wrong. He's flying back-and-forth between Mumbai and Sri Lanka, winning matches at the Wankhede and breaking List A records at Pallekele in the space of 20 hours. His injuries, then - surely those brittle knees and screwy ankles won't withstand an ODI workload? Thing is, fellow hasn't sat out a single Sri Lanka match on account of injury since his recall last October.
Unfriendly selection panels? He's outlasted them. Doubting coaches? He's still here - they're not. Critics? Well, haven't they been been mighty quiet in the last few weeks?
At this World Cup so far, he's been driven so completely, so unadulteratedly by nothing but grievance, his ire is impossible to miss. There once was a glorious joy to his bowling. His four-in-four in Guyana in 2007, was a jubilant eruption. His dismissal of Sachin Tendulkar at the 2011 World Cup prompted a crazy, arms-spread, exuberant run from the bowling crease to square leg, in a Wankhede stadium that was silenced, rather than enlivened, by a Malinga wicket. In the past 30 days, though, Malinga has been the World Cup's grumpiest uncle: unsmiling, aggressive, distant, aggressive again.
In the one official media appearance he made, he slammed his team-mates, suggesting they use the shame of their incompetence as motivation. In one-on-one interviews, his mouth has basically been a bazooka taking aim at former selectors who deigned to leave him out, complaining about his sacking as captain last month, producing dark beads of displeasure to the Sunday Times (and others) like this: "There are some players and coaches who didn't want me as captain and I know they worked really hard to get me out. But I am not the loser. I am still at the top in my game whereas those who worked behind my back are struggling. They are either not in the team or struggling to get runs or wickets."
Nothing about Malinga makes conventional sense. Not his action. Not the shape of his body. Not his longevity. Not his harsh treatment of team-mates. And especially not the fact that despite being this enraged at losing the captaincy, he is still seen helping his replacement Dimuth Karunaratne out with on-field strategy, from time-to-time.
You think you know Malinga? You think he doesn't play well with team-mates, thinks too much of himself, is over the hill, disrupts the dressing room, isn't committed enough, should lay off the chocolate rolls, is only out for himself? He's got eight wickets at 23.62 so far in the tournament, so he'd probably tell you himself, if he could.
Andrew Fidel Fernando is ESPNcricinfo's Sri Lanka correspondent. @afidelf