England's Dreaming

"Brian Barwick has hailed England’s future manager and backed him to win a trophy for the country." Said the FA boss about Steve McClaren back in May 2006. This statement is followed by the sort of stale, optimistic prose usually found in the official newspapers of morally-defunct authoritarian regimes, which could aptly describe the Football Association.

Wednesday, we are told, will be the start of new era. Columnists around England tried in vain this past week to pick through the familiar nuts and bolts of Capello's squad and find something new, something that brilliantly superseded the countless suggestions from heartbroken fans for an improved England squad. But Heskey was there alongside Owen, Gerrard alongside Barry, and although it was heartening (if now futile) to see Young and Agbonlahor filling the line-up, the familiar sight of Terry and Cole at the back left one less than convinced of this startling new age.

This is not to say these are poor players. And this is not to say Capello has had much choice. In the brave new world of conglomerate football, where the game is more a battle for money raked in via satellite dishes than for the dim lustre of once glorious silverware, the needs of the domestic game are not as important as the ratings for Chelsea TV. In the final days of the Champions League qualifiers there were more Scots on European pitches than Englishmen, even with the participation of four English clubs to Glasgow's two. He's become a novelty; the Englishman who plays football well enough to feature prominently in the domestic league of the country of his adoption or birth. As such, there are only so many novelties to choose from. So Capello's squad looks similar to McClaren's and Erikkson's before him, a team that goes out on penalties in the quarter-finals after limping through the group-stages.

The problem is not foreign players in the Premier League. The problem is an unhealthy integration of television, corporate culture and football in England. It's leading to a growing rift between the needs of the game and the interests of those who control it. There was once a culture of elder statesmen those who knew and respected the game (Busby, Shankly, Ramsay, Paisley), and that tradition has been effectively wiped out in favour of the Allardyce's and Redknapp's of the World, cheap mock-ups posed as talent. As such, fewer boys are being raised with an eye on skill and the discipline to achieve it. Look at the difference between Rooney and Ronaldo this past year: the latter who has striven to practice and raise his technique to standards many thought for him out of reach, the former crashing to earth after a hype-machine in desperate need of an English George Best. This will continue unless someone in charge puts down the money clip long enough to check what time it is.