JOY and excitement abounded in two freeze-frame moments that spoke volumes earlier this week.  

Picture two sets of parents, and two groups of animated children, clad in bright, white tops, the giddy offspring sporting huge smiles and skipping with happiness. 

Wide-eyed and full of wonder, the youngsters were busy gabbling about what they had just witnessed to vaguely harassed mums and dads, more intent on ensuring their brood crossed busy roads safely, back to wherever it was they had travelled earlier. 

One hundred miles, a pair of iconic stadiums and two different sports were mere details that separated the families and their rejoicing children. 

For the wonder and delight the kids carried were identical whether they were at Edgbaston for the cricket, or Old Trafford for the football. 

Along with a raft of similar emotions and feelings that boosted the senses. Astonishment. Admiration. Awe. Elation. Glee. Merriment. Pleasure. Relish. Satisfaction. Reverence. 

Sports lovers know all these feelings. 

We recall holding our parents’ hands, our dads guiding us through a throng of noisy, beery, crowds. Alongside fidgety police horses, officers clad in bright yellow high vis, burger sellers announcing their wares in throaty exhortations, restive touts, edgy and agitated, speaking out of the side of their mouths, reciting strange incantations. All the while drawn ever closer to staggering new superstructures, shiny stadiums, grimy grounds, and crumbling terraces — depending on which decade you came of age. 

As a child the event became the experience. Because it was so new, so raw, so mesmerising. So much fun. So dreadful. So much more different than mundane, everyday life. 

A trip to watch your team was the highlight — the sport was almost secondary at such an early age. 

It was the smells, the sights, the sounds, the sensory overload that Going To The Match prompted that remained long in the memory, now sepia tinted, and loaded with a cheery nostalgia. 

Yet, this week was different. For those chattering youngsters outside Old Trafford and Edgbaston were talking about the sport itself. The players. The characters. The skill. The talent. The audacity. The thrills produced when world class meets attacking principles. 

For Bazball read Gazball. 

For Ben Stokes and Brendan McCullum’s Brave New World, where excitement is prioritised over results, look no further than Gareth Southgate’s latest Three Lions iteration. 

Where innate caution has been overridden by exuberance that reflects the natural ebullience of his buoyant young squad. 

I was fortunate enough to take in Day Four and Day Five of the First Ashes Test at Edgbaston earlier this week, in an epic Test for the ages that ended, agonisingly for England hopes, with a narrow two wicket defeat with only a matter of balls and minutes remaining. 

Sandwiched in between was a trip up the M6 to Manchester to cover England’s emphatic 7-0 victory over North Macedonia at Old Trafford on Monday evening. 

It might only have been 48 hours until the longest day of the year, but Southgate’s zesty team tore into Blagoja Milevski’s side, blowing them away with entertainingly powerful football. Vigour and vitality coursing through England, despite the 2022-23 season stretching to an alarming eleven and a half months. 

While the uninformed may have scoffed at the pedigree of the visitors — those who watched captain Stefan Ristovski land his third straight league title with Dinamo Zagreb, noted No7 Eljif Elmas making 35 appearances for Serie A Scudetto winners Napoli, and recalled keeper Stole Dimitrievski impress when he helped his side Rayo Vallecano to a top half finish in La Liga which included a starring role during their 2-1 April victory over Champions Barcelona — knew better than to dismiss the Lavovi, or Lions, despite the eventual margin of victory. 

No, it was the way England routed North Macedonia. A fulsome joie de vivre gripped the team — and by extension, the stands, packed with 70,000 supporters of all ages. Including youngsters watching on in wonder at the top-quality spectacle they were witnessing. 

Bukayo Saka’s hat-trick, Harry Kane moving evermore into the goalscoring history books, Marcus Rashford’s sheer intelligence and movement on and off the ball, Trent Alexander-Arnold’s resurgence — and rebirth — as a midfielder, John Stones technical ability, all thrilled, thrilled utterly.   

As did the all-too-brief sighting of the impish Jack Grealish, treble-winning celebrations finally out of his system, leaving the visitors with the only hangover this week. 

And that’s without speaking of the talented Phil Foden, who also came on, nor scorer of the sixth goal, and erstwhile forgotten man Kalvin Phillips, let alone the lively Connor Gallagher — everywhere you looked there was fun and excitement, produced by young, talented, and intelligent young players displaying Gazball, English football’s version of Bazball. 

Speaking of excitement, I once saw my beloved Middlesex CCC win the County Championship on the last ball of the season, and a hat-trick ball at that — but the mesmerisingly gripping cricket produced on Day Five — following a four-hour drive back down the M6 from a rainy Manchester to a now sunny Edgbaston — was as exciting a day’s play as I have ever seen in more than 40 years of watching cricket. 

And that comes from someone who saw the great Vivian Richards in the flesh in his pomp, as well as the all-conquering Australian side of Shane Warne, Glenn McGrath et al. 

Quite simply captain Stokes’s leadership — along with his intrepid Kiwi coach, McCullum — has freed the English Test team to play without fear. 

And as much as I hate losing to Australia — amplified by having lived and worked in that strange, beguiling land for 18 months, many moons ago — Stokes astounding declaration at 393-8 towards the end of Day One, prompted such a thrilling finish. One that drew in new converts by the shedload, while old hands shook their heads in rueful astonishment. 

Yes, England could have eked out — or thrashed — another 30 or 40 runs, with Root in prime nick, but would that then have enticed Pat Cummins to instruct his side to chase more than 300 on the final day? As it was, they chased down 281 to win — guided by their refreshingly likeable leader, determined to counteract the shame of Sandpapergate with a more emotionally intelligent leadership style. 

Supplemented by Usman Khawaja rightly receiving enormous kudos for his courageous and gritty batting in both innings and the wily Nathan Lyon excelling, when Moeen Ali’s finger wouldn’t allow the hope of mirroring the Australian’s influential performance. 

Yet, despite the loss, my, how it was satisfying to see such a reactive Australian side, with an aggressive England team setting the pace and tone of the match for the first four days, deep into that last, absorbing session. 

I’m fortunate enough to have tickets for the Second Test at Lord’s next week, and I hope to cover Southgate’s Three Lions all the way to Germany next summer. 

The prospect of such exciting sport leaves me breathless in anticipation.

No wonder I feel like those wide-eyed youngsters I saw at Edgbaston and Old Trafford this week, giddy with joy at the exciting sport they had just seen, skipping with happiness.