Deliver this nation, Fabio, from the curse of celebrity. Do what Steve McClaren knew to be the right thing, and end the agony that has been the dying days of David Beckham’s career. The former professional footballer, now full-time celebrity, has long worn the Emperor’s New Clothes. Hans Christian Andersen’s fellow Scandinavian couldn’t see just how denuded Beckham had become, so Sven-Göran Eriksson continued to bow before the football fashionista’s throne.

McClaren tried but failed to cope with England’s slavish obsession with the cult of celebrity, with the result that he too was brought to bended knees by the madness which sent him to Los Angeles to watch Beckham train and talk with his fitness adviser. The fabulous right-footed one did what many others would have done in similar circumstances and accepted an incredible five-year financial deal to play park football for LA Galaxy. It was a personal decision that made financial sense, and with his penchant for the bright lights, where better to fade gently into the sporting night?

That should have been that, but as McClaren’s stock fell, he was compelled to belittle himself by recalling England’s showbiz footballer. A goal assist against Estonia justified the individual’s insane return to national service; a once proud football nation grateful for the deliverance of a cross against fourth-rate opposition.

Incapable also of choosing between the second-tier celebrities that are Steven Gerrard and Frank Lampard, McClaren opted for them both and failed to achieve any sense of balance in the middle of the field. England’s failure was inevitable and long-term, a blessing.

It has forced the FA to act and find an iron-willed manager who will not be overpowered or diverted from his task of reestablishing England as a credible force in world football by the senseless and silly excesses of celebrity Britain. We are all at it. Throughout the week the national newspapers have been sending their prized photographers to the Arsenal training grounds where Beckham is working on his fitness with Arsenal’s predominantly lesser lights.

The most common perception is that Arsène Wenger is giving Beckham the chance to regain his fitness and win selection for England’s friendly with Switzerland on February 6. Under normal circumstances even the most gullible of tabloid-driven newshounds would not peddle such a story, but Beckham is on 99 caps, and, well, it would be petty not to give him his hundredth, would it not?

In a country that turned slightly potty in terms of its “touchy-feeliness” with the death of a princess and its crass exploitation by a prime minister, the midfielder’s personal feelings play a greater part than the collective good of the team. These emotional overtures are so frequently endorsed that a combination of emotional blindness and tyranny overwhelms those in its direct line of fire. The past two England managers surrendered (and there are signs that England’s rugby union chiefs are similarly afflicted by the power of Jonny Wilkinson’s branding). It takes a tough man with a healthy contempt for the tinsel trash mania afflicting England. Fabio Capello’s reputation suggests that he was signed because he is just that man. The words of another acutely intelligent nonEnglish football man are heavy with good sense. Wenger did not mention England in association with Beckham. He explained rather that Beckham is “working to be fit for when he moves to Los Angeles in February, so now in January we are giving him assistance with his fitness”. Los Angeles is where Beckham now belongs. He has made his bed with the decision to live the Hollywood dream and there should be no thought of asking him to leave the comfortable slumbers of American soccer.

His last competitive match was in a friendly for LA Galaxy away to Wellington (New Zealand) at the start of December, yet we are asked to take seriously suggestions that he has a role to play in England’s future. The throng of reporters and photographers surrounding Arsenal last week has become dubbed “a media circus”. One of the side-effects is the question of whether league leaders Arsenal can handle the intense scrutiny. This is another English sporting obsession. Months were spent discussing whether rugby union coach Brian Ashton had the requisite skills to handle the headlines and the media heat. As if the flash of a camera or the ink of a pen can cause bodily harm.

A school of thought (normally advanced by us in the press) is that media relations are of great importance. If they are, Sir Alex Ferguson has never been told. In his own way, Wenger can be equally dismissive. Would the arrival of Beckham and the adoring press circus affect Arsenal’s focus? Not a problem, he said: “We are quite well equipped to handle it. We have mirrors, doors and everything that is needed.”

Sportsmen who are serious about their profession know how to shut a door on press intrusion while we wander around in some sporting hall of mirrors, distorting the reality of existence in front of our eyes. The best, the men such as Wenger, Ferguson and Capello, have no aversion to slamming the door shut and keeping away from the bread and circus of the celebrity age which warps everything to such an extent that the insignificant appears huge and the important shrinks to nothingness.

That is the story of Beckham and Arsenal, LA Galaxy and England. England’s Italian manager has a reputation as far removed from a clown as possible. Expect him to repudiate the celebrity circus. He made an intelligent start to his tenure as national manager by leaving the midwinter sunshine of southern Europe for the piercing cold of England’s Second City before contractually taking up tenure as England manager. It may have been symbolic, but it was smart. Aston Villa have a couple of young Englishmen attracting favourable comment and Villa Park is about as traditional as elite English club football gets. The national team could do with reclaiming a few forgotten virtues.

Winning is all for awesome Aussies

As you read these words, Australia may have beaten India to equal their record of a staggering 16 successive Test-match victories. Like a willow-waving phoenix, they have arisen from the ashes of their 2005 series defeat in England to stamp their authority indelibly on the game; and this from a team that is supposed to be recovering from the loss of two of the modern greats of the game in the contrasting shapes of Glenn McGrath and Shane Warne.

This Australia team has its share of superb cricketers, but to understand how they maintain this magnificent streak of winning cricket, one has to look not so much at, as into, their team. Andrew Symonds scored a Test best 162 to bring them back from the troubled position of 134 for six. This was his reaction to his finest personal effort to date: “It’s always a nice feeling to score a hundred, but it will mean more to me if we can have a good result in this Test. The innings won’t mean much to me until the end of the game if I can look back and feel I’ve contributed to a win.”

The individual always gives way to the collective cause in Australian cricket, something that does not seem the case with their English counterparts.

Think back to last year’s World Cup and England’s crucial pool match against Australia. Think back to the innings of England’s best batsman, Kevin Pietersen. He scored 104 from 122 balls, on the face of it a tremendous effort against the great Australians. Yet with England needing a huge score, Pietersen scored his last 54 runs from 73 balls.

The official England theory goes that Pietersen slowed down because wickets were falling around him, therefore making his presence critical if England were to bat their full allocation.

However, having nudged and nurdled his way to his celebrated century, he immediately gave his wicket away with a trademark KP thrash. He had scored his century, ensured his rating as the world’s best one-day batsman. The individual’s job done; good enough for the star-struck English nation, not for the earthier Aussies.

Shooting from the lip

Andrew Murray is going to be the sportsman who divides the nation in 2008. Tennis lovers of a purely patriotic disposition could be in for a memorable year if the manner of his performance against the world No 4, Nikolay Davydenko, is to be a yardstick.

The 6-4 6-3 semi-final win in Qatar indicates that the 20-year-old will crack the world top 10 again soon, and will stay there. Those, however, who like their sportsmen to be more personable could find themselves sick of the tantrum-touting Scot. He defended his decision to part with Brad Gilbert and employ a team of coaches by saying: “I know what it’s like being on the road all the time with one person, and it gets quite stressful.”

Gilbert, to my knowledge, has kept his own counsel on life on the road with Master Murray. Unlike Tim Henman, Murray’s frequent outbursts are not the brainwave of a coach who wanted to instil more edge into a polite and affable Englishman. He seethes from the heart.

Until he wins Wimbledon – when it would become an act of treason to criticise – he will be the most polarising face of British sport. Love him or loathe him, nobody can doubt that the enfant terrible can play and compete with the very best in the world.