THE MILLWALL striker, Darren Byfield, has attempted to close the vast gulf that exists between footballers and fans by logging on to the supporters’ independent website, MillwallOnline, and trying to engage people in rational, good-humoured conversation. It is a story worth telling for the sheer nobility of the enterprise and its, erm, predictable outcome.

Byfield posted a message under the name of “babyboy” (the endearment used, apparently, by his girlfriend Jamelia). “Darren Byfield here,” he wrote. “Fire some questions.” The first two he received were: “Why does it always rain on me?” and “Explain the theory of relativity, please.” Then there were one or two about Jamelia and the stuff she does, or doesn’t do and which I can’t really go into here. But the lad was undaunted. No, he said, ask me stuff about Millwall. But the trouble is, nobody really believed it was Darren Byfield and so the remainder of the questions concerned ways that the striker could prove that he was who he said he was, questions that made him increasingly exasperated.

Eventually it was agreed that before the start of a game against Blackpool he would run up and kick the post twice, as a signal that it was indeed He. Sure enough, just before kick-off, Byfield trotted all the way back from the centre circle and kicked the post twice, beaming at the Millwall supporters. So it was him! And then someone pointed out that Byfield always kicks the post twice before the start of a game; it’s a superstition of his. So we were back where we started. Eventually the poor chap had to ring a local paper and explain that it wasn’t a wind-up, it really was Darren Byfield talking to the fans, please believe me now, etc. Even then, the story was still doubted.

He’d taken a fair amount of stick on the message boards, long before he logged on. He was accused of playing with a most unMillwall like languor, with a disinterested expression on his face. On one occasion, before Christmas, as he disdained to chase down a loose ball from a corner, a friend of mine shouted out, rather harshly: “It’s okay, Byfield, feel free to join in at any time.” Byfield, with some justification, put this perceived indifference down to his having just returned from a serious injury. But then there were the press reports about him wanting, with increasing desperation, to move to a club in the midlands — before clamouring to move to Swansea. Someone give that man a rail ticket and an atlas, we all thought.

But matched against this is the unequivocal fact that he is by far and away the most talented player Millwall possess and that if it wasn’t for his 13 goals (and Richard Shaw’s excellence in defence), we’d be still in the bottom four, rather than casting an ill-advisedly optimistic eye at the playoffs. Byfield, we all know, could play at a rather higher level.

And then, after the Byfield business, someone else came on the message board using the name “CherryZ1” and claiming to be our goalkeeper, Lenny Pidgeley. Again, he wasn’t believed. Is there anything I can do on the pitch, something unique or highly unusual, that would convince you all that I am Lenny Pidgeley, he asked. Yes, came one reply, you could catch the ******* ball for once, you useless ****. And then kick it somewhere on the pitch, rather than into touch, added another correspondent. There was then a short debate about whether this would prove conclusively that it was Lenny Pidgeley, or if it would prove conclusively that it wasn’t.

CherryZ1 hasn’t been back, anyhow - and I sort of hope it wasn’t Lenny (although I’ve been told on fairly good authority that it was).

Byfield’s decision to engage with the fans was, I reckon, a brave and democratic act, to be wholeheartedly commended. He answered all of the sensible questions - even the fairly hostile ones - with great grace and without whining. But I do wonder a little quite what he expected the reaction to be.

The mistake people make about our celebrity culture is that the public is somehow in awe of the celebrities. That because they earn vast sums of money and appear on television all the time we must look up to them and respect their achievements. But in my experience, there is no awe at all, just a general murmur of amusement which is sometimes good-natured and sometimes rather less so. Their job is to entertain us - and that’s about it.

Certainly, that is the way we view our footballers down at The Den; we will cheer them and encourage them and, on rare occasions, afford them a standing ovation. But we are not possessed of the notion that they are Nietszchean supermen, set apart from the rest of us by their extraordinary talent. You can’t think that if you’re Millwall and sitting halfway up the Division One table, having recently lost 5-2 at home to Leyton Orient. But I don’t think it would change very much if, through some bizarre accumulation of propitious circumstances, we were suddenly poised to claim a Champions League place, either. We would have the same exquisite lack of deference to the people whose extravagant wages we pay. We would like them, but only up to a point. It is not primarily the players to whom we owe our allegiance.

So, it’s nothing personal, Darren - and it was nice of you to try. But the reaction would be exactly the same if Cristiano Ronaldo signed for Millwall and decided to visit the message boards to engage with the supporters. Actually, it would be a lot worse, if we’re honest.

Flouncing, diving, pouting little moppet. Step-over this, mate.

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