IF you know, like or are even vaguely hooked by the riveting Premiership title chase, then you will probably have unwittingly joined the pursuit of information about Federico Macheda. You almost certainly know him by now as Kiko, you will know he is 17 and was pickpocketed magnificently from Lazio, you will possibly have become one of his legions of overnight Facebook friends and you may have started kissing your Dad again

The important questions, though, are: what happens next? How long until his next wonder goal? Will he be driving a Bentley to training today? And: does he feel he should be?

There is a book to be written on the development of sporting prodigies. Alex Ferguson would probably be the man to pen it and Manchester United would be the ideal setting. Macheda no doubt will feel king of the hill, top of the heap all week, but if he turns up to training and in any way behaves like that, you can be sure that the natural hierarchy around the squad will ensure that it does not last. It is vital that Macheda still thinks and behaves like a junior; and with the likes of Giggs, Scholes and Neville around him, that should not be a problem.

The alternative is that he can believe the publicity. He can believe that the world is at his feet, which it probably is. Or he can believe that that world is already his, which it is not. He could keep kissing his Dad in public, which is what he did on Sunday. Or he could chase his worth and instruct his Dad to work as his agent - which is what Micah Richards did, and, as prodigies go, Richards is one whose innate talent remains a concept rather than a reality.

Below are four prodigies, at various stages of their flowering. I met them all just when the petals were starting to peel open.

1) Jenson Button

He was 19, we were in Jerez where he was in pre-season testing, hoping to persuade Frank Williams to give him a drive. Williams was so haunted by the memory of Eddie Jordan pitching up in 1991 with a young lad called Michael Schumacher that he swore he would never be caught napping again. Button was so phenomenally unflappable, down-to-earth, charming and mature that day that I was not remotely surprised that Williams did sign him. What has surprised me, pretty much ever since, is that Button did not remain down-to-earth and mature and that it has taken nine years for that early promise to be fulfilled. But here is what John Button, Jenson’s father, told me that day: that they had seen so many other young drivers fail when at the brink of success that they sat down and studied why. Why did they crack under the pressure? Why did they allow their feet to leave the ground? So, even if he did not learn the apparent lessons, maybe Jenson did just tuck them away for safe-keeping.

2) Ashley Cole

He was 19, I was at my brother-in-law’s stag party where, for his sins, he decided we should take a box to see Crystal Palace at Selhurst Park. Cole was on loan from Arsenal and quite clearly the most talented player on the field. More significantly, when the players did their tour of the hospitality boxes afterwards, an obligation they must detest, it was Cole who arrived to do the honours with us. And he was polite, modest, impressive. Enough to enamour me to Palace? Not if you paid me. But so positive was the impression the young Cole made, I would never have predicted the direction he has gone since. Particularly with Arsene Wenger, for so long, playing the role of father figure.

3) Jonny Wilkinson

He was 19, making a noise in his first season of what was then the Five Nations Championship. And I remember being so overwhelmed by his complete and utter readiness to put aside the life on offer. Fun, temptation, frivolity; I need not go further but he did not want it. He was more serious than Button, more focused, more single-track than any athlete I had ever met. “Is it worth it?” I asked. And he didn’t seem to get the question.

4) Tom Daley