It was one thing for the victors to be overcome with the tears of that irresistible mix of joy and relief, quite another to watch the way in which they were then embraced by the vanquished Allan Donald, who was waiting in the tunnel to offer his hand the very second that the series was won.
Donald is a giant of a man, a supreme cricketer who is driven by ambition and by pride but who plays the game with deference to humility and decency.
This though for once was not Donald's hour, it was irrefutably the hour which belonged to England, an hour which had been more than 11 years in waiting.
If there was something Machiavellian about the end, which came yet again with the raising of umpire Akhtar's dicey digit, it did not detract from the improving mechanics of a committed performance which brought England victory at last in a match which really, really mattered. They had done the hard yards on Sunday, reducing South Africa to 27 for five, but to have failed to have finished the job yesterday would have been nothing short of catastrophic for the status of the English game.
Catastrophe was averted by rest - though not much sleep during a fitful night, it was adrenalin which charged England yesterday and by thoughtful planning. They played a clever card even before play began on the most surreal of mornings when hordes of happy people were shuffling to their seats as early as half past nine. True to form the Yorkshire sun refused to shine but the Yorkshire folk did their bit by bringing their brightest spirit to the occasion and by lauding the players in practice as if they were Botham and Willis all those years ago.
At a quarter to eleven, with the field empty, the England bowling coach, Bob Cottam, emerged from the dressing-room and made his way to the middle. Immediately he was followed by Dominic Cork, all in white, who was given a grand reception by his excited audience. At the moment Cork began to bowl into Cottam's baseball mit, Angus Fraser appeared, cap skew-whiff, sweater akimbo, for some loosening of his own. Fraser, naturally enough, was granted an even grander reception.
As Gussie stretched to his toes and the applause faded so the crowd began to feel another presence. They turned away from Fraser and Cork and turned instead to the Rugby Stand which houses the England changing-room and out, with impeccable timing, strode 'Our Darren'. In their thousands they stood to greet their fresh-faced son, England's play-maker, their match-winner, their can't-do-without cricketer - the boy wonder Gough. The cheers continued while the three key men got loose, bowling faster and faster into the Cottam glove until they sweated in their paddock and were ripe for play.
This early appearance and overtly public preparation was a master-stroke on two counts. First it ensured that the bowlers were tuned, their muscles warmed and joints ready so they could continue what they had left the previous evening.
Second, and most cleverly, it got the crowd rooting. There was partisanship and spice in the atmosphere again and this turned the heat back on South Africa. What a crafty deflection of responsibility.
Suddenly it was a case of: see if you can score 34 against this lot, the many thousands of them; rather than the will-we-won't-we pressure on England of capturing the last two wickets.
Perhaps, for England, it was payback time after so long in depression, during which time the cricketing gods have not always been on their side. They have the framework of a team who can compete creditably when there is a little something in the conditions for their seam bowlers. They have enough strong characters who have learnt the mental requirements of Test match cricket through having been there, and having suffered, so often.
County cricket does not give English players this education, which is why the new selections take so long to make their mark. But Atherton, Stewart and Hussain; Cork, Gough and Fraser know the ropes now and swing from them with genuine self-belief. That self-belief is filtering through to the fringe players and an enviable dressing-room spirit is bonding them together.
It may also be that Alec Stewart's leadership is making its first impression. He is an optimist to Michael Atherton's realist and optimism has conned many an uncertain starter and won many an unlikely position in its time. Stewart's team, so nearly dead at Old Trafford, are very much alive now, cock-a-hoop indeed. Roll out the red carpet, roll on the Australians.