ONE hundred minutes in a 100-years-plus war have set the summer ablaze.

The finger-chewing, pulse-quickening, sweat-drenching dnouement to the Second Test in the Ashes' hostilities between England and Australia was as good as it gets - and simply not just because England finished victorious.

The initial three days of swash-buckling sway-play at Edgbaston had been bewildering enough in their switch-back of supremacy between the old foes. But the Sabbath finale topped all that had gone before.

For England to somehow draw an unlikely-looking defeat from the welcoming jaws of victory and then, with a meagre two runs to go for the Aussies to prevail, to snatch triumph smack right back represented sporting drama at its most compelling and absorbing. Even my wife, a renowned hater of cricket, could not tear her gaze away from those fateful, final overs. This was platinum cricket studded with diamond hardness and brilliance.

From Homer to Tarantino, across-the-ages weavers of epic tales could not have authored a more gripping conclusion. For those of us who hooked into the fix via television it was a privilege to be watching. Lord knows how those who were actually crammed into Edgbaston to see the spectacle unfold live, up close and oh so personal, actually feel at the recollection of those 100 gut-churning minutes.

The impact of that scintillating Sunday should not be under-estimated. In squaring the Ashes at 1-1 with three to go, England have re-ignited the home fires which suffered such a severe dousing at Lord's in the series' opener.

Had England have gone the way of so many predecessors and had Australia instead squeezed out the honours then not only would their Ashes advantage have been doubled, the position of the wizards of Oz would also have been unassailable barring a miracle that would have made the raising of Lazarus look like a clumsy conjuring caper.

England were not the only victors - the grand old game could also perform a lap of honour, propelled by the longer-term benefit that cricket itself should draw from the Edgbaston experience.

The two oldest adversaries in the international game demonstrated undeniably that it is not always necessary to dress up in day-glo kit, take to the middle amid floodlights and drizzle, and indulge in truncated heave, hit and hope variations on the game to ensure excitement and thereby engender interest.

When it is played as manifestly brilliant and whole-heartedly as it was at Edgbaston then it too can enthral, enrapture and energise. Anyone wishing to market the five-day game - albeit the Second Test ended in three and a half days - could do no worse than to home in on the Edgbaston exploits of Shane Warne, Kevin Pietersen, Justin Langer, Marcus Trescothick, Brett Lee and, of course, man-of-the-marvellous match, Andrew 'Freddie' Flintoff.

And in less than two days' time they will all attempt to do it again in the Third Test at Old Trafford.

Long live the summer, long live the Ashes, long live England's renaissance.

Oh aye, by the way, the football season has started.

Updated: 09:39 Tuesday, August 09, 2005