— Dante

IT SEEMS that we have a new England manager. How splendid, I wonder how we’ll destroy this one. For, rest assured, destroy him we will. It is only the method that is in doubt. What, I hear you ask? Luiz Felipe Scolari may win the World Cup for England. As if that could possibly save him.

Winning the World Cup isn’t enough. You ask Sir Alf Ramsey, sacked eight years after taking England to the greatest triumph in the nation’s footballing history. Press and public opinion had turned against Ramsey after the devastating disappointment in the World Cup in Mexico and the failure to qualify for the 1974 finals was enough to do for him. Not even a chance to resign. A sacking was necessary, for a full public humiliation was required. Sven-Göran Eriksson may win the World Cup this summer, but he has already been chewed and spat out.

Scolari looks great now. No question of it. He managed Brazil to win the last World Cup, for a start. Gary Lineker said that “a goldfish” could have done the same thing. What, handled such mad egos as Rivaldo, Ronaldo and Ronaldinho, plus the collective angst of a second team that would at least have got to the semi-finals? Hell of a goldfish.

Scolari then got Portugal to the final of the European Championship. In both tournaments, his side put out England. He likes to get rough with big reputations, which makes a nice antithesis to Eriksson. Everything about him is perfect. So much the better: it is more satisfying to destroy someone such as Scolari than a soft target such as Kevin Keegan or Glenn Hoddle.

It helps when the England manager contributes to the process of his own destruction and, of course, they always do. But think about the things we demand of the man who takes on the job. First, he must win every single match that England play. That is essential, and it includes friendlies.

Secondly, he and England must win with style, beauty and perfection. It’s no good getting scrappy one-nils all the time or kicking the bejasus out of the opposition, or — perish the thought — playing the long-ball game. England must play (and of course win) “the right way”. Don’t define the concept too closely. Its very elasticity is what gives us so many opportunities for destruction.

Next, the England manager must never say anything controversial. In other words, he must never criticise anybody: referee, England player, opposition player, opposition manager, footballing personality, media person, the Queen, etc. Best not to mention God, either. We have a very particular idea of God in England — He’s English and hot on his dignity — and remarks about God’s Plan for us don’t go down well, as Pope Glenda I found out.

Important point: don’t make jokes. I don’t recall any England manager making a joke (the nearest any one of them got was Ramsey, who, on being told “Welcome to Scotland”, replied with elocution-lesson pedantry: “You must be ****ing joking.”

You must understand that anything that can be misinterpreted will be misinterpreted. Ted Dexter, when chairman of the England cricket selectors, was never forgiven for joking that the England team were out of sorts because Venus was on the wrong aspect. (Note: we destroy cricketing leaders with some enthusiasm as well, but only when the football manager is unavailable.)

Of course, if you manage to live up to these almost impossible conditions, you will be criticised for your blandness. (Has Eriksson’s English really not improved in more than five years? I bet he talks like Stephen Fry at home. It’s only when he goes out that he puts on his burlesque Swedish accent and affectedly limited vocabulary: “Vell . . . in the first half we make a goal . . .”)

Perhaps the most important matter — apart from winning every match — is to make sure that there is nothing in your past, or for that matter, your uncomfortable present, that you would mind seeing on the front page of The Sun. I don’t mean things that could not be justified, or at least explained, I mean things that Look Bad. That can be made to look ever-so-slightly disgusting. It is, I suppose, possible that Mother Teresa could escape such scrutiny, but I doubt it.

We demand impossibly high standards and scream with horror when the England manager fails to live up to them. He must be a paragon of virtue. He must have a settled, happy relationship. Outside this, he must have the sexual restraint of Mahatma Gandhi. The World Cup is, after all, the holy grail and you can only seek such a thing in virtue and chastity.

Then there is the question of money. Total financial transparency is required. You are permitted to be well off, but any form of extravagance will be leapt upon. Any hint that you are spending your employer’s money in a reckless and/or personally gratifying way will be punished. Any suspicion of financial dodginess is unacceptable — that was why Terry Venables had to run from the job after his “triumph” of getting England to the semi-finals of Euro 96 with home advantage.

Then there is the question of loyalty. Imagine what it would be like here if Eriksson had agreed to manage Brazil this week. The man would be vilified as a traitor in the most hysterical terms. We may hire a foreign mercenary, but we demand his soul-deep loyalty. The fact that this is a contradiction never troubles us.

Eriksson, time and again, has been spat on for his perceived disloyalty. Certainly, he is almost incontinently eager to be courted, made much of, flattered and offered money, sometimes by genuine suitors, sometimes by phoneys. And this arouses a ludicrous level of anger. An England manager, whether mercenary or England-born, must never consider a move. Does he not already have the perfect job? It is a betrayal, not of principl e but of person: every single one of us.

Is it the press that destroys England managers? I think not. Newspapers represent their readers. They did not boycott the News of the World when it ran its “fake sheikh” story. The press represents the deep desire of all England: to destroy the England football manager.

And the weapon is always the same. I have described various ways in which England managers are destroyed, but it all comes down to the same thing in the end. And that thing is hope. We destroy England managers with our hope.

We burden them with impossible hopes and then destroy them when hope is inevitably unfulfilled. We set them up for failure, for we need someone to blame for the false hopes that life arouses, we need someone to destroy. Ramsey, Revie, Robson, Taylor, Venables, Hoddle, Keegan, Eriksson: each destroyed. And if it seems that we chose different weapons for each one, we did not. We destroyed them all with our own hope. Now it’s Big Phil’s turn.