There's this modern myth doing the rounds about football - football in England to be more precise. "Best league in the world!'' Says who? The advertisers? The shareholders? The eternal pundits? Determined to continue their free-dinner lifestyle, of course they do.

The fans follow like unpaid witnesses in a show-trial - the 21st-century  variants of 'Phew, wot a scorcher!' are never far from the editor's wish-list.  It just runs and runs in the usual circles. 

Every couple of years it has a mass freak-out when England go out of the World Cup/European Championship on penalties, which is not a below-the-belt dig but a matter of record and results. After the hoo-hah, the excuses - round up the usual suspects. 'Ere we go etc.

'When was the last time you heard anyone in the Football Association say anything about football? I mean about football, not the media jargon of nonsense and waffle'


There is little or no close-up analysis of why  a professional footballer can't kick a ball in a straight line. Indeed, it's become some kind of romantic type-casting - everybody loves us 'cos we're nice losers.

A favourite scapegoat is the foreigners. ''They're ruining our game'' has given way to ''Good [not great] but what about our youngsters!'' This is a fair question that needs to be asked and is never answered. Those who could answer it are neither qualified nor interested. When was the last time you heard anyone in the Football Association say anything about football? I mean about football, not the media jargon of nonsense and waffle.

Of course, Sir Trev is wheeled out as a gesture to . . . to what? Nice guy, Trev! After Sven Boring Trousersdown, they had to do some re-packaging. Speaking of whom, a man who managed in Portugal for years had nothing to tell his players about pitch conditions? Or did such detail matter?  Was it sidelined to make news of musical beds in Soho Square?

This is the mentality that denied Brian Clough and Terry Venables. These are the people who never had the courtesy even to reply to Jack Charlton's application. As for the treatment of Sir Alf Ramsey, maybe 'shame' is not in their vocabulary  - and small wonder, too, with so much ''absolutely'' and ''nah waah meenloik'' clogging the works. Never has drivel been given such prominance since Dwight Yorke's celebrated "well, it's obviously obvious'' insight.  Far from projecting role models, the Premiership encourages non-football. This fits in fine with an organisation that cocked-up a stadium project like The Keystone Cops. The proverbial p***-up-in-a-brewery comes to mind..

Maybe Marshall McLuhan had it right [no, he doesn't play for Chelsea] in saying the medium is the message. Lifestyles are dictated by Footballers Wives. About 10 years ago, Ryan Giggs had a series on telly showing those same youngsters some tricks. The kids were crap. They couldn't kick a fart. But when it came to celebration, they rolled and hugged and threw shapes for the camera like it was their profession.

Any wonder we have Playstation football and pop idols? Perhaps there lies the core of this farce; as the Top Ten, so football. Talent? You don't need it . . . just kiss the cup and cry for the cameras and you'll do OK, son!