Entertainment is watching overrated stars sulk
Mr Capello's Edwardian-style handling of pampered cretins strikes a happy
chord in me
Rod Liddle
THRILLED as I was to watch England squeak home against a team of amiable
goatherds in midweek - the Swiss second XI, more or less - it is not so much
the quality of the football that has entertained me during Fabio Capello's
brief tenure. It is the other stuff.

You would think that there is scarcely a more difficult job in the world
than turning this distracted and effete England team into world-beaters -
but Signore Capello has found it: turning the England players into sentient
and respectful individuals. His rules for the training sessions last week
were magnificently funny. Not only did the players have to turn up to the
table to eat at the same time as everybody else, they were also forbidden to
leave the table until everyone else had finished. No, Ferdinand, you can't
get down to play Rainbow Six Vegas on your Xbox until Ger-rard has finished
his pudding, just sit there and be patient. And stop dribbling into your
napkin, it's not clever or funny.

These are the sort of rules parents impose upon children at preschool age,
somewhere between that mind-numbing Thomas the Tank Engine stage and the
terrible appearance of the first Roboreptile. The players were also
addressed crisply by their surnames (no more of that bloody "Stevie G" and
"Lamps") and forbidden to play with their mobile phones. In short, they were
treated in the manner you might have encountered in an early Edwardian
reformatory - and, better still, Capello let the press and the public know
that this was how he intended to treat them and that he didn't really care
if they liked it or not.

As a piece of public relations, this was stupendously good stuff; maybe I am
wrong, but I suspect that there is not an enormous reservoir of goodwill out
there towards England's international footballers. I have the suspicion that
an awful lot of people consider them to be dissolute, pampered cretins
possessed of a ludicrously high opinion of themselves, divested entirely of
humility, a sense of responsibility, good taste, even a primitive command of
the English language, a moral compass and indeed footballing ability.

And so Fabio's strictures will have found happy accord from Workington to
Weymouth.

Even if England never win another game of football, it will at least give
the viewing public a certain cruel pleasure to know that they are not being
indulged behind the scenes. Capello is probably the first national manager
since Ron Greenwood (and with the possible exception, oddly enough, of Glenn
Hod-dle) not to consider himself either one of the lads or a kind and
doddery uncle who does not quite understand the full meaning of in loco
parentis. His attitude towards the players seemed to be one of patience
bordering on mild distaste, which is exactly as it should be.

But it is not just good public relations; call me the eternal optimist, but
it may just have one or two beneficial consequences on the field of play.
Let us make a fairly large assumption - that the present crop of England
players are at least one-fiftieth as good as they think they are, that there
really is a degree of talent in the ranks, but a talent that rarely shows
itself on the international stage. My suspicion has always been that England's
problems are psychological; that they believe that they are good enough to
beat the likes of Trinidad and Tobago - and indeed Croatia - simply by
turning up; that passion and commitment are not really required at all
because they are proven geniuses of the game and running around, sweating,
doing the ugly stuff, is really quite beneath them.

It was certainly the case during the European Championship qualifying games
that the players who shone were those who had not attained the exalted
status of being an automatic choice for England, so that they still had
something to prove - your Emile Heskeys, Gareth Barrys and so on. The
tendency of the England regulars - perfectly epitomised by Paul Robinson
and, during the last World Cup, Frank Lamp-ard, was to serially underperform
and then, during the postmatch press conference, to blame outrageous
misfortune for an adverse result. I reckon they won't be able to get away
with that for much longer.

By chipping away at their exalted status and treating the players in the
manner we would treat them, given the chance, Capello has identified the
root cause of England's chronic and dispiriting history of failure. And
dropping David Beckham and making Michael Owen sulk on the bench for 90
minutes reinforced the philosophy. Reasons to be very cheerful then. Hell,
carry on like this and we might even nick a point off Andorra.

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