Nothing could have put the "seriousness" of Michael Clarke's hamstring strain more quickly into perspective. For by now we have all seen the footage, the stark images of what happened when a regulation bouncer hit Phillip Hughes below and behind the left ear on Tuesday afternoon, on an otherwise benign, sunny day at the SCG.

The grimace, the stunned look, the realisation that something was really wrong, and then the collapse at the crease.

Part of the frisson of sport is that element of danger, the vision of tiny halfbacks bringing down men twice their size, the skier who risks life and limb as she tears down the mountain against the clock, and yes, the batsman who has a cricket ball whizzing past his head at 140 km/h and barely blinks. It is precisely their courage under fire that makes us admire them all the more. But somehow, in most of those sports, we never really expect to be confronted with the other side of it, the truth that, inevitably, serious damage – life-changing and sometimes life-ending injuries – are the result of our adoration of seeing sportspeople take risks.

Given this correspondent's campaign over recent years on the danger specifically of brain injury, it is understandable that I have fielded a lot of comments in the past 24 hours asserting that this tragic episode of Phillip Hughes underlines those dangers.

Of course it does, and so does the fact that after the initial injury to Hughes' brain, it seems likely there was another hit – in perhaps a classic case of second-impact syndrome – when he collapsed down on to the pitch.

But to my eyes, rather than anyone engaging in any notably dangerous activity that should be banned, or any problem with process that exacerbated the dangers, the whole thing looked to be just one of those one-in-10-million chances that Hughes was simply unlucky enough to be on the wrong end of. If we can accept that in most sports there is a one-in-many-million chance of bad injury through specific actions, it stands to reason that when those sports are played often enough, very occasionally we will see tragic results like this.

In cricket in Australia, the most memorable example of a bouncer doing serious damage was during the Centenary Test of 1977, when a Bob Willis bouncer felled Rick McCosker in the first innings and broke his jaw, only for McCosker to return with it heavily bandaged for the second innings to score 25 in a 54-run partnership with Rod Marsh. Triumph, we cried!

Then, we thrilled to the dangers McCosker stared down, the risks he took to overcome tragedy, all in the name of winning the game – just as we did with John Sattler in the Souths grand final against Manly in 1970, and Sam Burgess' fractured cheekbone this year against Canterbury.

But in this case, there are no "what ifs" – for the near-worst has so jarringly happened before our very eyes. And "jarring" really is the apposite word.

For there is in sporting culture, by its very nature, an instinct for optimism, a desire to find something good even in the midst of the worst losses, the so-called tragic twists of fate.

It is built on that endless rhythm of, "next week, next year, next comp, next Cup ... we'll get you then. We will learn from this, and come back stronger."

And it is admirable. It is sustaining. It gets you through what seems like tough times.

It is only at times like this, however, that we see things truly clearly. Most of the "triumphs and disasters" of sport are just as Rudyard Kipling noted, "impostors".

Only in the face of a true disaster like this do we understand that sporting triumphs and disasters are, comparatively speaking, trivial. Our instinct for a sporting upside is thwarted, because there simply is none.

Yes, the reaction of the players has been touching. It was moving to see how in a split instant two teams playing a fierce encounter transformed into a bunch of blokes urgently doing whatever they could to help a mate and to hell with the cricket. The outpouring of emotion from the public has also been heart-warming.

But, ultimately, there is nothing here but tragedy, no lesson to be learned, no foundation for a future triumph that will somehow make this look good. All we can do is hope that Phillip Hughes and his family can find the strength to get through it. Our thoughts are with you.

Twitter: @Peter_Fitz