Hugh McIlvanney: Jewel amid rough gems

With the myth of the Golden Generation decomposing in a pauper’s grave in South Africa, where it was buried at last by yet another World Cup failure just nine months ago, more than a hint of the premature tainted the enthusiastic heralding of a fresh crop of young footballers as a more genuine basis for confidence about the future. Undoubtedly there are players coming through whose burgeoning talents are encouraging, and their development in the England squad should be enhanced by the belated decision of their manager, Fabio Capello, to switch emphasis from a 4-4-2 to a 4-3-3 formation.

But it’s still worrying that the eruption of sanguinity about their potential owes so much to defeat of a wretchedly inadequate Wales team by two goals that included a penalty and a 1-1 draw at Wembley with Ghana, who had played an African Nations Cup qualifying match 4,000 miles away in Brazzaville, Congo, two days earlier. Obviously those circumstances don’t invalidate the individual and collective promise evident against the Welsh and the Ghanaians but interpretations of it in the media would have benefited from a more noticeable injection of caution. There was, however, less cause for surprise in the overreaction than in its trigger.

Capello’s suggestion that the new force he is assembling on the way to the Euro 2012 championship could prove as worthy of admiration as the youthful Germans who had such a dramatic impact on the 2010 World Cup finals — they trounced England 4-1 in the first knockout round and then swamped Argentina 4-0 before losing a semi-final by a single goal to the tournament winners, Spain — was never going to be treated quietly in newspaper sports sections. Throughout most of his reign the Italian has shown an understandable disdain for the feelings and opinions of our scribbling fraternity (it’s sensible for a man in his line of work to assume that cosiness with my profession will be as much help as a parasol in an air raid if results are bad) but he knows well enough how the quotes system functions. He must have had a broad inkling of the effect of his allusion to Mesut Ozil, Sami Khedira, Thomas Muller and their allies, though he probably didn’t anticipate seeing “My Wunderkids” blazoned in massive type across the top of a double-page spread in a tabloid.

Maybe, having come under so much hounding, sometimes vindictive pressure since the South Africa debacle, even such a strong nature was coaxed into crowd-pleasing, if scarcely justified, comparisons to Germany by the less hostile atmosphere abruptly prevailing after two displays that supported the case for the 4-3-3 many of his journalist critics had long advocated. Alternatively, Capello may have been simply expressing sincerely held upbeat expectations. And perhaps his remarks will be vindicated by events next summer. For me, however, there is as yet little temptation to bet on England to be champions of Europe.

The immediate difficulty is separating myself from the apparently heretical notion that, when we apply the most stringent criteria to the identifying of Wunderkids under Capello’s care, the counting may have to stop at one. Jack Wilshere is a genuine teenage marvel, somebody who impressed from the first glimpses of him in serious action as a player with abilities so prodigious, and a sense of how to apply them so precocious, that his rapid rise to recognition, at 19, as a midfielder fit to keep company with the best anywhere in football seems entirely natural.

His assets are manifold and invaluable: exceptional adroitness in controlling the ball and protecting possession of it; innate positional awareness and passing, mainly with his left foot, that is distinguished not only by accuracy and inventiveness but by a remarkably mature discernment of when simplicity should override ambition; a capacity for surges of ball-carrying penetration towards shooting opportunities; and a physical presence disproportionate to his short stature. Capello repeatedly describes Wilshere as incredible and regards it as a given that he will be a long-serving captain of the national team.

It is no disparagement of the other young players lavishly praised last week to say none of them is ever likely to approach the heights he has already reached. Several are plainly entitled to believe they can have substantial international careers. That is particularly true of 25-year-old Ashley Young, who appears to have convinced Capello he has the pace and skill and predatory alertness to be a versatile attacker for many seasons to come, and of 23-year-old Joe Hart, who has the look of an entrenched incumbent in goal. Andy Carroll (22) and Darren Bent (27) are the leading contenders for the centre-forward role, while Gary Cahill (25) and Leighton Baines (26), as central defender and full-back respectively, are well placed to challenge for inclusion if age, unfitness or faltering form overtakes the men currently installed. Stewart Downing (26) has shone lately as a winger but faces competition from the younger Theo Walcott, Aaron Lennon and Adam Johnson.

The most optimistic assessment of the promise contained in that collection of names could not persuade me there was a sound foundation for Capello’s willingness to compare England’s youth production line to Germany’s, or implant the conviction that the two nations will enter Euro 2012 with similar chances. Overturning historical trends will be a daunting demand. England have never made it to a European championship final, and the 1966 triumph came from their sole involvement at the last stage of the World Cup. The Germans have been to six European finals and won three, to seven World Cup finals and won three.

They did not ride to that record on hopeful talk about golden generations.

Lee Westwood might be considered one of the finest golfers without a Major (Themba Hadebe)

Tiger seeks redemption through Masters glory

Few professional sportsmen earn their wages in a more beautiful workplace than the golfers who gather annually to play The Masters over the rolling, flower-scented acres of the Augusta National course in Georgia but the severe pressures inseparable from the first of the season’s four major championships soon sober up any competitor in danger of being intoxicated by the surroundings.

Later this week nobody will be straining harder for clear-headedness than Tiger Woods. As he seeks rescue from the long blight of frustration and agonising inadequacy that has followed the turmoil of disgrace and fragmentation spectacular turpitude brought to his life 16 months ago, he obviously wouldn’t be too pernickety about where deliverance occurred. But the garden of golfing good and evil that is Augusta would be the perfect setting. Television coverage of The Masters will be even less resistible than usual.

Jock Stein's legacy endures, even in the wake of Sir Alex Ferguson's achievements (SNS)

Stein’s genius will not be forgotten

Nobody would have to reach for the smelling salts after reading that, in a poll of all the Premier League managers, 60% of them said the reason for the desperately close competition that has characterised this season at the top level of English football is strength in depth.

Vulnerability in depth would be a more valid explanation but, unsurprisingly, there was an almost negligible readiness to entertain that reality. It was, in fact, an agreeable shock to find a 7% expression of the belief that the extra competitiveness was in evidence because standards had fallen at the leading clubs (some of the percentages were peculiar but those responsible for the survey in The Sun indicated that the strangeness was due to a “rounding” process applied to the figures).

Obviously, that 60% accentuation of the positive was a judgmental rather than a statistical anomaly. To undermine its contention, we need only examine in detail the campaign that has put Manchester United at the head of the table and made them odds-on favourites to lift the title.

Their form over the season has been so short of sustained conviction and consistent effectiveness that, though their position is patently deserved, the main effect of their emergence as champions would be to leave many people (including me) convinced Sir Alex Ferguson had pulled off the most impressive domestic feat of his quarter of a century at Old Trafford. We definitely wouldn’t be marvelling at the strength in depth of the 2010-2011 Premier League.

Most of the other responses in the poll were uncontroversial. Naturally, there was an overwhelming vote for Ferguson as the best manager in the history of the Premier League. He stayed ahead when the choice was widened and simplified to identify the “best manager ever” but it both interested and delighted me that alongside the 26% naming Sir Alex there was 20% support for Jock Stein. Since I firmly believe (and I suspect the great Ferguson concurs) that no man ever brought more extraordinary gifts to the management of football teams than Stein did, the recognition struck me as unremarkable. But I had to admit that it wasn’t unconnected with the presence of six Scottish managers — all from Glasgow and its environs — in the Premier League. That total, which outnumbers the English representation by one, testifies to a notable national resource. The Scots’ aptitude for playing football has dwindled horrifically, but their capacity for producing outstanding managers is, per capita, unrivalled in the world.