George Bernard Shaw's line, the first part of which is iconic in this country thanks to the late Malcolm Fraser, offers solace in the wake of the Trent Bridge Disaster. For in sport, without defeats and setbacks along the way the victories wouldn't count for much. When they do come, they are the more delightful for the struggle that went before.

Last Thursday added to the file of worst-ever nights spent watching (or listening to) Ashes cricket from England. These can be excruciating events and occasionally, from an Australian perspective, new depths are plumbed. This one had a touch of Jim Laker rolled into Headingley '81.

There was a batting landslide in the face of a brilliant solo bowling performance. The usually pedestrian Poms performed not just well but freakishly. Australia were on their knees in a way to touch an old anti-imperialist nerve. And it was all played out before a baying English crowd. The standing ovation for the 50 – 9/50 after little more than an hour – had to be an all-time low-water mark.

The water will rise again, though, and this memory will add to the enjoyment when it does. Trent Bridge 2015 will join those afore-mentioned disasters of Old Trafford and Headingley as sources of inspiration for the future. Sport appeals to our best and worst and while the instinct for payback is not a particularly noble one, there are times when it just has to be expressed. This was notably achieved when that fiery lass, Lillian Thomson, burst onto the scene in 1974-75 and when a similarly rapid Mitchell Johnson didn't make a bad fist of it 20 months ago.

There's another reason, though, to appreciate – even celebrate – last Thursday night and it's this: it was real. It was the sport that mattered, and which was totally credible. Both teams desperately wanted to win and so did their supporters, from whichever end of the world they were watching. The joy and inspiration of success was written all over the Englishmen as they rose and rose. The shock, awe, and agony of humiliating failure were etched in the demeanour of the Australians. Michael Clarke's face told of a devastating occasion in his life. This is the glory of competitive sport.

Cricket offers its own contrast to this. The charade of the shortest form of the game is a pale imitation. Yes, triumph and disaster are conveyed but where is the context to make it truly convincing? Moreover the best-established and most lucrative competition in that form is shrouded in suspicion of corruption. And why should we be surprised, for this is the pointy end of mercenary, modern sport. Competitors are paid obscene sums to represent Indian cities, or regions, in which the imported competitors have no true buy-in. Why genuine sports' fans would want to invest their emotional energy in it escapes me.

These days, much of what claims to be sport is in fact a prostitution of the very ideal. It not only challenges the public's ability to believe its own eyes, but threatens the industry's capacity for long-term survival. If a reminder was needed, reports in recent days of the likelihood of mass doping in track and field provides it. When that sport's world championships begin in Beijing in a couple of weeks, how much faith can we place in the integrity of performances? Regardless of attempts in the meantime to restore damaged credibility, the same will apply when Rio's Olympics are held next year. Russian and Kenyan gold medallists, in particular, must be viewed with suspicion.

Not that this is new. Ben Johnson was outed more than 25 years ago, Marion Jones about halfway between then and now, and still track and field remains dubious. Yet it is such a jewel in the crown of Olympic competition that the world has been in collective denial. The fact is, there is no more thrilling, atmospheric, globally inclusive, colourful sport on the planet. Having covered many Olympic and Commonwealth Games track and field competitions, I would say without hesitation there is nothing in sport to take away the breath of an ageing cynic like walking into the Olympic stadium on the first morning of the athletics. The idea that the practitioners of something so precious would compromise it is demoralising.

But that is where modern sport resides. We have just witnessed another Tour de France and it seems no one is sure that event has truly been cleaned up. Perhaps it is where athletics was post-1988. There are inquiries, much righteous talk, and vigorous nodding of heads, but in the end self-interest, national interest, and financial interest reign supreme.

So, yes, it was a shocking night on Thursday night. It was one Australian cricket followers will never be able to forget. The sort of occasion when sport leaves you feeling sick in the stomach. And a contest to feel really good about because it provided a reminder of how sport can stir the emotions.