As a young New South Wales batsman, Usman Khawaja used to drive in from the western suburbs for matches at the Sydney Cricket Ground, picking up his buddy Phil Hughes along the way. Having left home early to beat the traffic, Khawaja and Hughes would find themselves in the old pavilion with hours to spare. So they each sought a corner in that famous home changing room and dossed down, catching up on their sleep before their teammates arrived. What it is to be fearless.

Had Khawaja been born in Macksville, Dungog or Campsie, he might have been tagged as that beloved stereotype, the typical laidback Aussie, the Doug Walters or the Mark Waugh of his time. But Khawaja was born in Islamabad, so he carried some over-inspected baggage: teetotal, a practising Muslim and, most suspect of all, a university graduate. So, in the narrowest corners of a narrow world, he was fitted up with other national stereotypes. He was not laidback but lazy, not an 'Aussie' but a 'Paki', not carefree but uncommitted.

If anything or anyone was lazy, it was the labels and stereotypes and those who endowed them. But they persist. At the same location on Friday, Khawaja walked to the crease carrying the only baggage that matters, the classic No.3's responsibility. Australia were a wicket down in the second over and trailing England by 345. The ball was glimmering in James Anderson's hand. Khawaja's Ashes series had been fair, with half-centuries in Adelaide and Perth, but unfulfilled. His position in the top order, like Cameron Bancroft's, was possibly under threat. It shouldn't have been, based on statistics, but it was, based on other factors. Perception, prejudice? Khawaja has grown up in an era that has fetishised work ethic and conspicuous displays of energy. His equals coming up through the New South Wales system were Hughes, Steve Smith and David Warner: workaholics, frenetic, consumed by cricket. He was labelled as a matter of contrast.

So even with 28 Test matches, five centuries and nearly 2000 runs for Australia behind him, and a batting average of 43, Khawaja still found himself on Friday having to answer the charge that he was not just a bit down on form and luck, but lacked some other ingredient: application, energy, attention to detail. For dogs who hear whistles, these qualities stood for something else.

We're all guilty of reading too much into cricket - it's a long game - but certainly too much has been read into Khawaja. Strip it all away. On Friday at the ground where he had learnt his top-level cricket, this was a professional batsman, a specialist No.3, attempting to perform a job for his team. He was nothing else, not a name or a religion or a birthplace, but an Australian number three.

Without fuss, he dealt with the new ball. Off the mark post haste, he nibbled four more quiet singles in the half-hour before Joe Root brought on Moeen Ali. A little symmetry there: the left-handed Moeen's nemesis all summer has been the off-spinner Nathan Lyon; the left-handed Khawaja's, to a lesser but still noticeable degree, has been the off-spinner Moeen. Spin has often troubled this Australian number three with the so-called Asian wrists. There's another stereotype rubbed out.

The signal that Khawaja was up to this challenge was his footwork against Moeen when he skipped down the wicket to stripe a drive past mid-off. He rotated the strike effortlessly. In the next half-hour, with spin operating from both ends, Khawaja faced only 10 of the 42 balls bowled, taking singles off six. While David Warner sought to monster the debutant Mason Crane, Khawaja fed his partner the strike.

A quiet period followed, Khawaja in the slipstream of the belligerent Warner, who clattered a series of boundaries on his way past 50. This was not to be the day for another Warner Sydney blitz, however, and once he was out to a choice little James Anderson cutter, Khawaja took over the leading role. Protecting his captain, Khawaja cut Moeen and pivot-pulled Anderson for boundaries. Then he got down the wicket twice to Moeen, driving a four and then a six. Crane bowled at his pads, hoping for an inside-edge to the close catcher, but Khawaja waited on the fuller ball and drove Crane through cover before lofting another straight drive. Crane caught his edge once, but Khawaja adapted quickly, reaching forward to sweep the next ball, once again solving the problem by getting up the other end.

By now, the Australian captain was settled and Khawaja could renew his focus on personal goals. When Khawaja brought up his 50 with that six off Moeen, his captain shook his hand and told him not to waste the chance. The opportunity, like the sunlight, was golden. The century partnership came up, and Khawaja was the dominant partner, a textbook execution of his role in the team.

Comparisons are a cricketer's burden, and it must be hard not to look casual when the man at the other end is the hyperactive Smith or the pugilistic Warner. For whatever reasons, selectors and sections of the Australian public have been unwilling to cut Khawaja as much slack as his record deserves. But he has a record to envy and his innings on Friday, before what had been his home crowd before this easy-going Sydneysider became an easy-going Queenslander, was a delight. His ability to sleep in the hours before a cricket match evokes an Australian personality that used to be a badge of national pride. But not everyone has to fit someone else's preconceived ideas. Khawaja is just a cricketer playing the game his own way.