But in this instance that luxury was a horrible burden.
Kerrigan probably wanted to bowl more, but at the same time was petrified at what might happen if he did.
And there were another four days of the match, during which Kerrigan will have been questioning himself throughout.
Should he be there? Was he good enough to be there in the first place? Can he recover? What would he be like should he be selected again?
He would not be human were he not asking such questions.
I asked myself the same questions from the moment I received the call-up.
It was a different era, when selectorial doors were mostly revolving, but, having failed, the possibility that you might never play again was very real.
The series was against South Africa with Allan Donald at his swiftest, and captain Alec Stewart was busy organising chest pads for the batsmen. Did I need one? How did I know?
I have to admit that I feared for Kerrigan from the start. I had been at Northampton the previous Saturday when he had played for England Lions against Australia.
Shane Watson had taken him apart. It was as brutal a dismantling of a bowler as I have seen for a long time. T
here were signs of enough revolutions for the ball to turn, but Kerrigan, relying on an action without run up or front arm, in general bowled far too slowly.
So when Kerrigan was selected last Thursday morning, I tweeted the hope that his performance there had not been a fair reflection of his ability.
There followed the rather predictable rounds of abuse from a couple of Lancashire supporters about negativity.
I have since heard that Kerrigan’s natural pace is usually quite quick, that nerves made him bowl more slowly, both at Northampton, where he had been tipped off about possible selection, and in the Test.
But I was certainly not wishing ill upon him.
One should never forget the importance of an international debut, and that is not just the importance to the player himself or herself.
The emotions of those closest to you tell the truest story, in both elation and then disappointment if things do go awry.
And the player can feel guilty if the latter does arise.
For that second innings of my debut, which happened to be on a Saturday afternoon, the players of my club side, Lydney, arranged specially for a television to be at the club.
They watched it for only a few minutes. I still feel guilty about that.
Just imagine how Kerrigan feels.
And imagine further how he must have felt celebrating with the Ashes winners on Sunday night.
The super-sub Gary Pratt would have felt more comfortable in 2005.
The conclusions on Kerrigan have been swift and mostly harsh. But the real question is: did he suffer stage fright or the start of the yips?
Only time will truly tell. The yips among bowlers is usually associated with left-arm spinners such as Kerrigan.
Think Phil Edmonds, Keith Medlycott, Fred Swarbrook, Ravi Shastri and young Michael Davies, the former Northamptonshire spinner.
But right-armers have been afflicted too. Think of Gavin Hamilton, a one-Test wonder.
At Glamorgan I played alongside an off-spinner called Michael Cann, who at one stage did not know which foot to set off on. Unforgivably, I, along with my team-mates, laughed.
No one should laugh at Kerrigan now. And let us sincerely hope he is not another left-arm spinner to add to the yips list.
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