Hail to the coach!

The Ashes cricket series was unimaginably compelling from first day to last. At Lord’s on 21 July England began their challenge by bowling out the world champion Australians for just 190 to kick-start the turbulent rollercoaster, and in the following 54 days of beguiling intensity and speculation the whole cricket world — and far beyond it — became engulfed in the flamboyant ride right up to the barmy damp-squib ‘bad-light’ ending. The best team deservedly won. The losers, surprised by such a sustained challenge, fought like cornered cats, then gave generous best. Cricket folk had to half-close moist eyes and summon thoughts of Jessop’s imperishable century on the very same wide field all of 93 years ago when England’s irrepressible fancy-dan, the South African Pietersen, piebald coiff aglow, rode in, first on his white charger, then on the overwhelming tide of emotion, as well as, most certainly, his luck. It was a truly unforgettable innings for cricket’s all-time lore and legend. What’s Afrikaans for Bravissimo?

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Sure, the extended opera — hymns and arias, solos and chorus, tumbling upon each other for passage after passage, day after day — did cricket the world of good. Sport as a whole also came up beaming to take a bow. Undoubtedly players and followers of other games, professional or amateur on vast packed arenas or village ‘recs’, were forced to look at themselves and take serious note. Challenge, defiance and character, entertainment, enjoyment — and valour. The honouring of the foe has been the template these last few weeks; the chivalry and nobility of both sets of cricketers has been heartwarming, edifying and salutary.

Hosannas all round, ancient and modern. Apt that at the final sponsors’ collection of dues at the Oval — the post-match prizegiving jamboree — someone popped up with the Compton-Miller medal to be awarded for the player of the series.