SHAME it wasn’t on terrestrial TV. This is the stuff to bring the crowds back to cricket. In the longest form of the game, a Test match, a player bursts the usual bonds and scatters his opponents, together with the ball, to (almost) the four corners of the earth.

Yes, Ben Stokes’s record-breaking century in the opening Test against New Zealand lit up Lord’s as much as the floodlights that illuminated part of it on the overcast day. But on the Freeview highlights, the only access for millions, the Durham star’s 85-ball whirlwind 101 didn’t look greatly different from much longer centuries with less frequent boundaries.

Still, the excited atmosphere came across in the commentary and camera shots of the rapturous crowd. Stokes is the new Andrew Flintoft, who was the new Ian Botham. Except that, possibly, he is more of an accomplished batsman at this early stage of his career than either of his illustrious predecessors at the same point. His 92 in the first innings argues the case.

An example of a pure hitter might well have been Gilbert Jessop, the man whose 76-ball century against the Australians at the Oval in 1902 is the only one faster in Tests than Stokes’. Quoting his career tally of 29,930 runs at average of 32, including 54 centuries, the great cricket writer Sir Neville Cardus insisted that Jessop was no slogger. But, with only that single blitzkrieg century to his credit in 18 Tests, the charge remains.

But what a sensation that innings was. Needing 263 for victory England were 48-5 when Jessop – “square of shoulder, square of chin” observed Cardus – strode to the crease. “He attacked at once,” Cardus recorded. Balls smashed into the sightscreens and shattered bar windows, breaking bottles and glasses. His 104 would have been more today, for only hits that cleared the ground scored six, which several did, landing on nearby roofs.

With the lighter bats of that era, Jessop’s power was astonishing. Against Kent at Scarborough in 1913, he became one of the very few batsmen who have struck the ball over the high boarding houses into the town’s Trafalgar Square. It is said that when an aunt of Jessop’s was told of this feat, on the assumption she knew the game was at Scarborough, she asked: “Was Gilbert batting at Lord’s or the Oval?”

Back to Stokes. If not a slogger, he’s gained a bit of a reputation as a sledger – happy to trade insults with opponents. Some say sledging has always figured in the top class game – and maybe it has. But it’s now infecting all cricket, in which – restoring the “it’s not cricket” philosophy once impressed on all youngsters – it should have no place.

An intimidating fast bowler as well as attacking bat, Stokes should let his performances do the talking. Adding verbals risks diminishing the admiration earned by deeds like his thrilling innings at Lord’s, or indeed the determination he always shows.

Jessop’s phenomenal innings turned that Test, which England won by a wicket. Cardus wrote: “In a short space of time, the Australian ranks were more or less a rabble. The bowlers recoiled, helpless in the teeth of the cyclone.”

It’s often said: “We’ll never see the like again.”

But cricket resurrects its heroes.