Readers of a certain vintage might be familiar with the work of J.A. (Charles) Cuddon, a teacher at Emanuel School in London and author of the Macmillan Dictionary of Sport and Games, which ran to some two million words of mostly exquisite prose. This is how he started his entry on cricket: ‘Cricket is a bat and ball game for 11 players, the object of which is to score more runs than the opposing team. Less prosaically it is the High Mass of sport, a sacrificial devotion to the gods of skill and chance, the most complete and arcane devotion yet devised by man.’

For anyone inclined to question that definition, the almost unbearably thrilling New Zealand-England Test match that finished in the small hours on Tuesday would have answered their doubts. England lost, but the game will be remembered for as long as people still talk about cricket.

Ben Stokes with his dizzying boldness on the field is emerging as England’s most successful captain since the great Arthur Shrewsbury in the late 1880s (rated by W.G. as the best batsman in England); Harry Brook is the most exciting Test batsman in the world, deserving of any Bradman comparisons which come his way. Even the Kiwis’ indefatigable Neil Wagner, whose heroic bowling was exhausting to watch, could only shake his head in disbelief as Brook smashed another fizzer to the stands; while Joe Root is still the batting genius that Wisden calls him, though not necessarily the best caller of a quick single. The whole team are playing with a freedom and joy that, ahem, the England rugby team might learn from.

But amid all the excitement there’s a danger we might forget the fine art of wicket keeping, and in Ben Foakes England have a supreme exponent. He is a terrific batsman too, and could have won the game if he hadn’t holed out to long leg. But it was his sleight of hand to run out Michael Bracewell on day four that showed his cunning: Tom Blundell on 85 had forced through the legside and they had started on the third run. As we useless fat buggers know, when the keeper shouts ‘Keeper keeper’ and the keeper is intently hunched over the stumps and that’s where you’re running, you get a move on. But when he isn’t, when he looks like he couldn’t give a damn and the action is elsewhere, then we know we can slow right down. And that’s what Foakes did. He looked like he didn’t care where the ball was, and when a rocket from Stokes landed in his glove, Foakes whipped off the bails one-handed while Bracewell, ambling along, was miles in and neither his bat nor boot was grounded. It was a magnificent trick, like the best rugby winger’s dummy, or a Cruyff feint that puts a defender on his backside. Foakes is growing into the complete wicket-keeper batsman – which could be a problem when Jonny Bairstow comes back. How do you solve that? Answers on a postcard please…

As this column has observed, there are few things that football needs more than a successful Manchester United. But we should keep what we have left of our hair on: is Erik ten Hag the new Fergie? Is he the new Messiah? Well, they have won the Carabao Cup: good stuff of course, but the least significant trophy in English football. My own team, Oxford United, even won it (back in 1986, when it was called the Milk Cup). Man U beat a team below them in the league in a one-off game. Casemiro, United’s outstanding midfielder, was widely reported as putting in a ‘performance for the ages’, but this is now media parlance for ‘playing pretty well’. They are a good side, but – ominous to contemplate – the Glazers might think they are on to a good thing and fail to sell. United really will be on to something when they win the League, do the double over City, and get to the Champions’ League final.