THE world of sport was airborne with jubilation last night as, amid genuinely incredible scenes, David Seaman defied the odds to snatch glory in a bitterly-contested, down-to-the-wire finale on Strictly Ice Dancing. Victory for this modest son of Rotherham ended nearly two years of hurt for sport, whose representatives have routinely struggled in celebrity endurance shows since the false dawn that was Phil Tufnell’s triumph in the May 2003 series of I’m A Celebrity . . ..

The pain is over and the healing can begin — especially for Seaman, whose ankles must be killing him. And to think that, less than three weeks ago, joining the likes of Carol Smillie and Marcus Patrick from Hollyoaks in a nationally broadcast, pro-celebrity ice dance challenge would have been the last thing on the former Arsenal and England goalkeeper’s mind.

It should have been Paul Gascoigne on the night — and the thoughts of a nation went out to the fabled Geordie, sidelined after picking up a niggle in training. Or, more specifically, after picking up Jimmy “Five Bellies” Gardner in training and falling over, damaging his own neck.

That was the story, anyway, although there was little evidence of such an incident in the BBC’s documentary footage last night, which seemed to imply that Gascoigne injured himself without help. It couldn’t be, could it, that one of the great sports news stories of 2004, or any other year for that matter, was a saucy hoax?

Whatever, Gascoigne was present to witness his understudy scoop gold after just eight days of preparation. As Seaman bowed to receive his medal from Bruce Forsyth, Gascoigne was visibly choked. Quite rightly. This one was for him — and also, of course, for the millions watching at home and the hundreds who had eagerly gathered rinkside for just a sample of Seaman on ice. (There’s a schoolboy joke hovering somewhere there, but you underestimate me if you think I’m going to go anywhere near it.)

Let nobody downplay the nature of Seaman’s achievement. Eight days is no time at all in which to put together a properly competitive ice-dance routine, not when the opposition includes Jessica Taylor from Liberty X and Scarlett Johnson from EastEnders. And not when everyone else has been at it for four weeks.

Excluding, that is, Rowland Rivron, who had only ten days. But then, to judge from Rivron’s routine, he could have had ten years and it wouldn’t have made much difference. Rivron took to the ice like someone in post-operative recuperation, tentatively essaying an invisible Zimmer frame.

At least Seaman was drawn to dance last, which must have worked in his favour, nerves-wise. It also meant he knew exactly what he had to beat. By then, Smillie’s challenge had gone south after some disappointingly “square and blocky” arm-work and Marcus from Hollyoaks had been left to chew on a total mark of merely 12 out of 40 after a routine so wooden it could have formed the material for a church pew.

Marcus spoke for us all, perhaps, when he said, in a pre-dance interview: “It’s the Lycra that frightens me, to be honest.” That didn’t appear to be Rivron’s problem: the comedian quite happily donned an all-in-one lime and purple catsuit that made him look like a nylon lolly. If he never really got off the ground, we should remember that wave after wave of static electricity was coursing through his body, in effect cooking his organs every time he moved.

By contrast, confidence in Seaman grew during the on-ice introductions, when, in full flow up the back straight, he pulled off a thumbs-up to Gascoigne. The laws of slapstick dictate that, if it was going to go pear-shaped for the retired goalkeeper, this was the moment he would have flipped over and exited the arena on his Lycra-wrapped backside.

But no. He remained vertical. And so, accordingly, did the bright pink tie that Seaman had chosen to offset his black, sequin-spangled, diaphanous shirt — cleverly picking up the pink theme in the strips of dyed spaghetti that his professional partner, Zoia, was pretending constituted a dress. They danced to Tom Jones’s version of Kiss in a tight, fast routine that said to the judges, in so many words, “pick the sequins out of that, suckers”.

And the judges were impressed. “You’re the first one that’s gone out there and really attacked it,” one said. The one quibble was: “Your arabesque lines need a major look at.” Which sounded harsh, but the judge in question was just expressing what the whole nation had said after that Ronaldinho goal in the 2002 World Cup. But cometh the hour, cometh an unflappable Seaman. “I just went out there and gave it a blast,” he said. Doors open for him. Who knows? He could step up to I’m A Celebrity . . . in 2005.

Meanwhile, an open-top bus tour must surely follow. The feel-good factor is self-evidently there. The question is, how to harness this victory to the London 2012 Olympic bid and to the benefit of sport in the nation generally. We’ve seen that the country can stage leading events at which sport is the winner. It’s up to the administrators now.

GILES SMITH RETURNS ON THURSDAY