When doctors told the little girl that she would never be able to walk, they should probably have borne in mind that her father is Phil Neville and she has an uncle called Gary. It says everything about the family genes that Isabella was moving unaided around a classroom yesterday, grinning from ear to ear.

The characteristic Neville defiance has served the clan well at various times of trouble, but perhaps never more so than when Phil’s daughter had cerebral palsy diagnosed at 18 months old. Neville was so determined to approach life as normal and to treat his daughter as a healthy girl that he refused to talk about her as being disabled. He would use the blue parking sticker only when practicalities required it.

His stoicism was not sustainable and he broke down after one children’s party when, during a game of musical bumps, his daughter kept clambering up off the floor with an almighty effort just as others were flinging themselves back down. Briefly, he cracked.

“I realised then that she would never be able to enjoy everything that other kids can, that there would always be some physical hurdles she could never get over,” Neville said. “It really hit me. But we’ve been determined not to feel sorry for ourselves. We’re lucky that we have the resources to care for our little girl and she has a stubbornness that some might say runs in the family.

“She was ten weeks premature and we weren’t sure if she would survive. But she did. Then we were told she wouldn’t walk. But you can see for yourself.” He looked over to see his daughter, 3, gambolling around with the aid of splints. Self-pity is as welcome in his home as a Liverpool supporters’ convention.

Like so many parents, Neville and his wife, Julie, were hugely grateful for the work of the NHS staff but infuriated by the limits on resources. They decided to do something about it. Having experienced the wrench of leaving their sick daughter in intensive care every night, they quickly volunteered to assist with a £20 million appeal that will add a parents’ unit to the new children’s hospital in Manchester. Their efforts have helped to raise hundreds of thousands of pounds and yesterday was spent on a tour of schools in the North West. Clambering out of a helicopter, Neville was met by high-pitched screams. “Now I know what it’s like to be David Beckham,” he said.

He has known the worst of times, too. He returned from Euro 2000, where he gave away a fateful penalty, to find his gates tied together with a burning St George’s Cross. His wife was told in the street that people would be after him.

As a thirtysomething who is not even guaranteed to be on the bench, never mind in the England team, he has had plenty of reasons to follow others into early international retirement. Just once, he did consider it. It was immediately after a long-forgotten friendly against Paraguay at Anfield in April 2002. “I came on to a chorus of ‘If Neville can play for England, so can I’,” he recalled. “I walked off that night and I said to myself, ‘That’s it, I’ve had enough.’ For the first time I just thought, ‘What’s the point?’

“But it only lasted till the next day. I’d never retire from playing for England. Pulling on the shirt means something very special to me. I’ve got 59 caps, but even if it is coming on for five minutes, it is still the biggest thrill.

“There’ll always be a few Neville haters. Gary blames me for that tackle at Euro 2000. I blame him for all the interviews he’s given over the years that have annoyed people. Hopefully, it is a small minority now. I think there’s a bit of respect that we’ve both soldiered on. A grudging respect, anyway.”

Phil is the younger, and softer, of the brothers. He has a self-deprecating humour that would disarm his critics were they to meet him. Such as the tale from his United days about going to swap shirts on the night that Real Madrid came to Old Trafford. He thought a Zidane, Figo or Roberto Carlos jersey would make a nice memento. He knocked on the away team’s dressing-room door, handed over his shirt to a kitman and waited patiently. Five minutes later his shirt was thrust back out. No one wanted it.

On a question-and-answer session round the schools yesterday he talked of everything from own goals to the treble. He talked of his horror at the thought of missing Euro 2008. “For this squad, it would be nothing short of a disaster,” he said. “Players like Wayne Rooney and Steven Gerrard sitting on a beach while a tournament is going on? The whole team would be embarrassed.”

Questions must be asked about how some England players have faced the challenge, about the bottle they have shown. Not of Neville, who has a tight hamstring but will be reporting for duty this evening. He even manages to describe his participation in this faltering campaign as a reward. “I think Steve McClaren has seen my dedication over the years, like flying home from my holiday in Barbados before the last World Cup just to train for six days on stand-by. I think I’ve been rewarded for that loyalty.

“Now I think we should show some to him. After Sven [Göran-Eriksson] left, most people in the country said they wanted an English manager. Well now we’ve got one and it is too easy to say ‘let’s change’ if we don’t qualify. Steve deserves backing.”

Neville believes that he has more to contribute and he is one of that rare breed who has flourished after leaving Old Trafford. He is enjoying life at Everton and believes that they are capable of winning a cup this season. As captain, Neville would get to lift the trophy. No one should begrudge him.

Sir Alex Ferguson says that this is the best squad he has ever assembled at Manchester United. Which is quite different from saying that it is his best team.

The United manager has always talked most fondly of the 1994 vintage of Keane, Ince, Cantona and Hughes because they allied intimidatory power (like Ferguson himself) to an adventurous spirit. The present crop may have greater strength in depth and they certainly possess flair but I still fancy the bruisers of ’94 to have bullied them out of a game.

When it comes to wise counsel, Brian Barwick is not spoilt for choice. It can hardly be described as a brains trust at the FA when leading councillors include Geoff Thompson, Noel White and Sir Dave Richards.

Now there has been a suggestion that Barwick should listen to the players in deciding Steve McClaren’s fate. It is the FA chief executive’s job to weigh up the squad’s morale, but he should be able to do so without a phone call to John Terry.

If there is a sensible advice to be found, it is from David Gill, the Manchester United chief executive, who is increasingly influential in the corridors of power. Gill never wavered in his support of Sir Alex Ferguson when there were screams for the manager’s head a couple of years ago.

Given Gill’s clout, McClaren must hope that he is equally steadfast over the next week.