Cartwheeling all the way to Madrid? GETTY IMAGES

In January, Wayne Rooney was cartwheeling towards the Stretford End after heading a cup semi-final winner against Manchester City, capping another superhuman performance for the Red Devils in a glorious run of form. Amid jubilant scenes at Old Trafford it seemed the 24-year-old was finally fulfilling the immense promise of his early career and was ready to become the man to lead United and England into an exciting future.

How things change. Rooney’s Sunday League performances in the World Cup were mystifyingly bad. Then, lurid stories about his private life caused a media storm the likes of which do not impress manager Sir Alex Ferguson (but maybe explained Rooney’s distracted demeanor in South Africa as he wondered when the story would break). Now, just days after publicly contradicting Sir Alex, the boy from Croxteth wants out.

Several players have crossed Ferguson and been shown the door. Jaap Stam, Roy Keane, Ruud van Nistelrooy and David Beckham have been the most notable victims of Ferguson’s wrath but none of them publicly expressed a desire to move on. Their shared mistake was to undermine their manager’s vice-like grip of authority on all matters Manchester United, whereas Rooney has apparently made it clear he wants out.

So how has the relationship between master and apprentice soured so rapidly? Rooney’s ineffectiveness on the pitch can not have helped. He is a shadow of his former self, with just a solitary goal to his name this season and way off the rampaging genius of last term. To Ferguson, though, the most damaging developments have probably been Rooney’s off-field behaviour. Allegations of sleeping with prostitutes and pictures of Rooney drinking, smoking and urinating in the street are not things that Sir Alex appreciates from his players. Rooney’s gargantuan wage demands in the same week as his comments questioning his manager’s assessment of his fitness may well have been the final straw, with Rooney relegated to the bench for the visit of West Brom on Saturday.

Rooney has only 20 months left on his contract, making a January exit likely, but where will he go? He has always said he does not want to play abroad so a move to United’s bitter rivals Chelsea or Manchester City could not be ruled out, risking the eternal ire of the United faithful. Joining Jose Mourinho and his old mate Cristiano Ronaldo at Real Madrid could be the more likely destination. The striker may feel that running away from the constant spotlight on his private life is his only option and a tilt at glory with Europe’s most successful club too good an opportunity to miss.

Any move will be a bitter blow to United’s fans. Rooney’s performances last season marked him as approaching the status of successor to the clubs romantic idols of Best, Law, Charlton, Robson and Cantona. The sale of their best player for the second time in three seasons would be a bitter pill in a year when their cross town rivals have emerged as genuine title contenders. Perhaps the only winners in this sorry saga if Rooney is shipped out will be the Glazers, whose accounts will be boosted by yet another windfall.

Dimitar Berbatov soaks up the acclaim of his teammates during his inspiring performance in a 3-2 win over bitter rivals Liverpool yesterday. Photo: Tom Jenkins, The Guardian

Back in April, Dimitar Berbatov’s place as one of Sir Alex Ferguson’s big-money flops seemed assured. With the league title on the line and United trailing at home to Chelsea, the Bulgarian was presented with a wonderful opportunity to equalise with virtually the last kick of the game. But instead of lashing home on the volley from twelve yards out, Berbatov could only shootly weakly into the arms of Petr Cech in the Chelsea goal, completing a miserable day for the beleagured striker and almost guaranteeing Carlo Ancelotti’s first title with the Blues.

Since United broke the bank to prise him away from Tottenham and prevent him joining their “noisy neighbours”, Manchester City, in September 2008, Berbatov has flickered only briefly. A meagre twelve goals in 43 appearances last term suggested a player capable of breathtaking skills when the mood took him but one who tended to drift out of games when the going got tough. In his first season he had undoubtedly played a part in the Red Devils appearing in a second successive Champions League final and claiming the Premier League title, but his role was a peripheral one at best. All seemed set for a quiet exit over the summer.

Sir Alex Ferguson, however, had other ideas and his persistence with the erratic striker is now paying rich dividends. Going into yesterday’s contest with Liverpool at Old Trafford, the 29-year-old striker had four goals to his name in five matches, and had wowed the crowds at home and away with his mercurial skills and deadly finishing. It looked like United’s mammoth investment could finally be about to bear fruit.

Then came yesterday’s masterpiece. Two headed goals and one improvised moment of magic gave Berbatov his first United hat-trick in a thrilling win over the old enemy. Ferguson’s delight was obvious, and his high-five with the striker as he left the field in the dying seconds was loaded with significance. Not only had his £30m man scored the goals he believed he was capable of, he had done it against the club’s most hated rivals.

“Lots of questions were asked about him last season and he was made something of a whipping boy,” Ferguson wrote in yesterday’s programme notes. “People should have queried whether the man had real ability, and the answer for me was undoubtedly ‘yes’. Next they should have looked to see if he was a Manchester United kind of player, and again I think there was no doubt about him.”

Ever since Eric Cantona swaggered off the stage thirteen years ago, United and Ferguson have been searching for a replacement. The muscular Frenchman, blessed with sumptuous skills and an uncanny ability to score vital goals in the most important matches, inspired his teammates and the crowd with his individual brilliance for five glorious seasons. Ever since, the faithful have been waiting for a second coming.

Immediately after Cantona’s shock departure, the intelligence of Teddy Sheringham briefly touched the heights, but his was always a game more suited to bringing others into play than stealing the limelight for himself. More recently, Cristiano Ronaldo became the exhilirating focal point of the team but his arrogance and lack of club loyalty meant he never truly connected with the United crowd.

It is perhaps in the indefatigable creativity of Wayne Rooney that United have come closest to a worthy successor to Cantona. But for all the England striker’s ability, he rarely does the truly unexpected in the way the Frenchman could. Berbatov, however, can and against Liverpool his touch was sure, his running elegant. As ever, he rarely seemed to break a sweat and there were not that many moments of improvisation. The one that did come, though, was well worth the wait.

After controlling a floated Nani cross with his back to goal on his right knee, Berbatov instantly shifted his body weight to execute a perfect overhead kick that cannoned down off the crossbar and into the net. Pepe Reina in goal for Liverpool remained absolutely stationary. Berbatov’s marker, Jamie Carragher, simply stared in disbelief. It was a moment for Old Trafford to savour.

The season is only just beginning, but Berbatov has shown more than enough to suggest he could be the creative catalyst for United this season. The reasons why the Bulgarian suddenly looks the player Ferguson has always believed he could be are many. His international retirement has meant more rest between matches, while the arrival of Javier Hernández has provided much needed competition. Too often last season a lack of striking resources meant that Berbatov was playing poorly but keeping his place. Now that is not an option. The lacklustre form of Rooney could also be playing a part. Such was the Liverpulian’s influence last year, Berbatov was continually in his shadow. Now, however, after a disastrous World Cup and sordid revelations about his private life, Rooney is struggling and the Bulgarian is stepping in to fill the void.

Dimitar Berbatov is simply too calm to be the next Cantona; incandescence is not his style. What he does have, though, is the creative gifts to lift his team allied to a new sense of purpose and responsbility which he seems to be revelling in. And whatever has propelled Berbatov to this rich form, he isn’t getting carried away. “I’m going home with a smile on my face,” he said, “but to my kids I’m nothing special. And tomorrow is another day.”

One of these players has made it into our team of the tournament - can you guess which one?

It seems a long time ago that Siphiwe Tshabalala’s bullet shot lit the blue touch paper of the 2010 World Cup. Since then, we’ve had English buffoonery, German mastery, Ghanaian heartbreak and Brazilian surrender on our way to the final. And despite the early signs pointing to a tournament that would belong to the South Americans, tonight’s showpiece is an intriguing prospect between Holland and Spain, two of Europe’s underachieving giants. A guaranteed new name on the trophy is a fitting end to this tournament of surprises that has been a delight to watch if devoid of the classic ding dongs (Uruguay v Ghana aside) that have marked previous World Cups. There are a few surprises, too, in this team of the tournament. Not every selection makes perfect sense but then, in football, what does? One thing that does make sense is the success of the 4-2-3-1 formation, which we have used here in honour of the two finalists who both employ the ‘double-lock’ midfield to devastating effect. Using this system has meant a couple of the best players have had to miss out, but which ones? Read on to find out.

Do you agree with my selection? If not, tell me why I’ve got it spectacularly wrong via the comments….

GK: Maarten Stekelenburg (Holland)
It’s not easy taking over the goalkeeping jersey from the most capped player in your country’s history, and with 130 appearances in a majestic international career stretching back 15 years, Edwin Van Der Sar’s were big boots to fill. But Holland’s current custodian, 27-year-old Maarten Stekelenburg of Ajax, has filled them with asssured aplomb. Admittedly, he was at fault for Diego Forlan’s equaliser in the semi-final, misjudging the flight of the Uruguayan’s shot from distance, but his prodigious leap to deny Kaka in Holland’s quarter-final victory over Brazil was pivotal. Had that shot gone in, the South Americans would have turned around with a two-goal lead and may not have avoided their collapse and subsequent defeat.

RB: Maicon (Brazil)
Until that implosion against Holland, Brazil had looked virtually unbreakable, not least thanks to the efforts of their colossal right-back Maicon. Scorer of arguably the goal of the tournament – a bendy bullet from the by-line against North Korea – the Inter Milan defender terrorised opposition defences and attackers alike with his direct running and fierce tackling. Even though Dunga’s pragmatic approach denied the world of his gifted team’s full array of skills, 28-year-old Maicon Douglas Sisenando was able to prowl the right touchline on his own to devastating effect.

CB: Ryan Nelsen (New Zealand)
Only two teams remain unbeaten in the 2010 World Cup. Unsurprisingly, finalists Holland are one, thanks to their gritty midfield and propensity for flukey goals, but slightly more unpredictably, the other are minnows New Zealand who kept Slovakia, Paraguay and reining champions Italy at bay. Their success was undoubtedly a team effort but if one player epitomised their spirit, organisation and determination more than any other, it was Blackburn Rovers and All Whites captain Ryan Nelsen. An ever-present at the heart of defence, the 32-year-old cajoled and inspired his team of bank clerks and journeymen to undreamed of heights, conceding just two goals and missing out on qualification by one point.

CB: Yuji Nakazawa (Japan)
There may well have been more talented and celebrated centre-backs at the World Cup – Carlos Puyol, Gerard Pique, Joris Mathijsen and Lucio spring to mind– but few were as influential as the lionine Yuji Nakazawa. Japan conceded just two goals (against Denmark and Holland) in their unprecedented run to the second round on foreign soil, where they were cruelly dumped out on penalties by Paraguay in a goalless stalemate. Nakazawa’s flowing locks and flawless positional sense alongside the impressive Marcus Tulio Tanaka were critical to their progress, while the veteran’s unflappable, understated cool provided the platform for many of their attacks.

LB: Fabio Coentrao (Portugal)
Ultra-negative Portugal were largely disappointing in South Africa (a 7-0 obliteration of North Korea apart), boring everyone to death in their clash with Brazil before going out limply to finalists Spain in the second round. One bright spot amid all the drudgery was the skillful, all-action style of left-back Fabio Coentrao, who seemed to be attacking on his own for long periods. While all around him seemed hell-bent on sucking the life out of every fixture, the 22-year-old, fresh from winning the double with Benfica, bombed forward relentlessly piling cross after cross into the box and was no slouch in the tackle either.

CM: Bastian Schweinsteiger (Germany)
Having made his name at the last World Cup as a spritely left-winger, it’s been as the beating heart of Germany’s dynamic midfield that Schweini has shone this time around. Thrown into the centre of midfield midway through last season by Bayern Munich coach Louis Van Gaal, Schweinsteiger has combined superb technique, immaculate positional sense and an unshakeable confidence in his own ability to emerge as the outstanding player of the tournament in the coveted holding midfielder role that is so critical to success in the current tactical era. His ability to dictate play almost single-handedly, alongside a knack of popping up in attacking positions with devastating effect have continually caught the eye. Unceasingly unfazed by the opposition, the 25-year-old made the game look frighteningly easy against both England and Argentina.

CM: Mark Van Bommel (Holland)
Schweinsteiger’s club-mate at Bayern Munich, the uncompromising Mark Van Bommel, has made destruction into an art form. To many, he epitomises everything that’s wrong with modern football – sly tackles, flying elbows, a fondness for falling theatrically to the turf and an arrogance that makes casual observers sneer in his general direction – but his performances at the heart of Holland’s miserly midfield have been critical to their success. Love him or loathe him, there’s no doubting his effectiveness at getting the job done.

AM (R): Thomas Mueller (Germany)
Not satisfied with winning the Bundesliga and appearing in the Champions League final in his first full season at Bayern Munich, 20-year-old Thomas Mueller decided to take the world by storm in South Africa as well. With just one cap to his name before the tournament, few expected him to ease so effortlessly into the international game, but five goals in a magnificent campaign highlight the giant, rangy strides Mueller has made. If David Villa or Wesley Sneijder fail to increase their goal tally in this evening’s final, the gangly attacking midfielder’s three assists would give him the Golden Boot. Holland’s Arjen Robben has been mightily impressive in the same position on the right of an attacking midfield three, but Mueller’s rampaging style just gives him the nod.

AM (C): Xavi (Spain)
Who’d be a manager? The central attacker of our midfield three was by far the most difficult position in our 4-2-3-1 to pick, as it meant two of the tournament’s best players twiddling their thumbs on the bench. Holland’s Wesley Sneijder’s incisive passing and crucial goals have propelled his team all the way to the final. Meanwhile, Germany’s Mesut Ozil has effortlessly pulled the strings like a classic playmaker, carrying on a rich tradition defined by greats like Maradona and Platini. While both players have been critical to their team’s success it is Spain’s Xavi who makes it into our team of the tournament. The little maestro is the central cog in the European Champions’ perpetually purring midfield and his contributiuon to their success can not be underestimated. With 570 passes so far (compared to Sneijder’s 325), he should comfortably overtake Dunga’s record set in 1994 to cement his place in World Cup history.

AM (L): David Villa (Spain)
Fenando Torres’ ineffectiveness has meant a shift to centre-forward in the final two games of the tournament for Spain’s goal machine David Villa, but it was on the left side of coach Vicente Del Bosque’s attacking trident that he pierced a succession of defences early on. Memorable goals against Honduras, Portugal and Paraguay – all scored marauding in from the left of midfield – have proved the difference in Spain’s string of narrow victories (in terms of the scoreline, at least) on their way to the final. Quite simply, Villa is the man who applies the finishing touch to Spain’s ‘tiki-taka’ passing game, and has enjoyed a magnificent World Cup.

CF: Diego Forlan (Uruguay)
Uruguay’s spearhead and most accomplished player, Diego Forlan continued his fine form for his club – his goals proved crucial in their victorious Europa Legue campaign – and provided the firepower that pushed the two-time champions to the semi-finals. His selfless running, ability to find space and mastery of the much-maligned Jabulani ball have been a joy to watch throughout the tournament and, after his nightmare at Old Trafford – where he seemed to make missing easy chances his forte – Forlan has blossomed into the consumate professional and an admirable ambassador of the game.

Subs from:
Wesley Sneijder (Holland) – will probably score a hat-trick in the final to render this article null and void
Mesut Ozil (Germany) – outstanding playmaker who will surely be even better in 2014
Miroslav Klose (Germany) – veteran striker proved he could still pop up in the right place
Asamoah Gyan (Ghana) – tireless front man whose goals catapulted Ghana to the quarter-finals. His penalty miss against Uruguay remains the tournament’s most memorable moment
Robinho (Brazil) – the Seleção’s best attacker until their collapse against Holland
Jong Tae Se (North Korea) – fearless striker who deserved a goal for his rambunctious efforts
Richard Kingson (Ghana) – he wobbled occasionally, but Ghana’s hulking goalkeeper performed heroics in equal measure
Keisuke Honda (Japan) – brilliant attacking player and scorer of vital goals
Claudio Morel (Paraguay) – neat and tidy full-back with an eye for a pass
Lionel Messi (Argentina) – flickered sporadically but didn’t deliver when it really mattered
Arjen Robben (Holland) – devastating pace and a stunning shot
Sergio Busquets (Spain) – metronome at the base of Spain’s midfield
Xabi Alonso (Spain) – magnificent passer of the ball who would walk into most teams
Carlos Puyol (Spain) – a rock at the back and scorer of the semi-final winner
Andres Iniesta (Spain) – Xavi’s partner in crime – skillful, quick with unerring vision
Gerard Pique (Spain) – the new Beckenbauer
Diego Lugano (Uruguay) – Captain Marvel
Phillipp Lahm (Germany) – industrious, rarely beaten and a continual attacking threat
Carlos Tevez (Argentina) – never-ending reserves of energy and a cannon shot
Gonzalo Higuain (Argentina) – poacher supreme

England's Frank Lampard and Jermain Defoe contemplate Lucas Podolski's strike that made it 2-0 to Germany. Photograph: Tom Jenkins

Venue: Free State Stadium, Bloemfontein
Att: 40,510

Germany handed England their worst ever World Cup defeat thanks to comical defending and a refereeing blunder that prevented Fabio Capello’s side making the score 2-2 just before half-time.

Despite the injustice of Frank Lampard’s strike not being rewarded with a goal – the ball cannoned down off the crossbar and clearly crossed the line before bouncing out – the ‘Golden Generation’ were outclassed in every department by a German side full of endeavour and inventive running.

Had Joachim Low’s young side taken half of the chances England’s defence presented them with, they could have scored seven or eight.

Admittedly, things could have turned out differently had the referee allowed Lampard’s ‘goal’ – eerily similar to Geoff Hurst’s second at Wembley in 1966 – less than a minute after England made the score 2-1 but, in truth, that equaliser would have been harsh on Germany.

Playing with a packed midfield and the dangerous lone striker Miroslav Klose, Germany’s passing game revolved around the steel of Bastian Schweinsteiger and the ingenuity of Mesut Ozil. They repeatedly took a woeful England defence apart with ease.

Klose gave his side a deserved lead after twenty minutes when he latched onto goalkeeper Manuel Neuer’s long goal kick – John Terry and Upson were both caught out of position – and stabbed the ball past David James.

Ten minutes later Podolski doubled Germany’s advantage after more abysmal English defending. Terry and Upson were nowhere to be seen as Klose sent Thomas Mueller scampering through. His square ball found the Cologne striker who had time to take a bad first touch before rifling the ball underneath James.

England’s forward play throughout was deeply disappointing – Wayne Rooney was especially anonymous – and they rarely threatened a suspect German defence.

They did pull a goal back thanks to a set-piece when Upson rose highest to head in a Steven Gerrard cross. And England should have been level less that a minute later thanks to Lampard’s shot. Surely this game will signal the introduction of goal-line technology to top class football.

England pushed forward in the second-half in search of a breakthrough that would restore parity but a Frank Lampard free-kick that hit the bar was about as good as it got.

Their gung-ho approach left them vulnerable to the counter-attack and they were demolished accordingly twice. Muller applied the finishing touch to two devastating thrusts through England’s paper-thin defence to put the game out of reach.

For Germany, the ghosts of 1966 and the phantom goal that defeated them at Wembley were exorcised, in an exhilarating defeat of their tormentors that day.

For England, there is introspection and a multitude of questions. Why did Fabio Capello not get the best out of England’s players? Why were his tactics so antiquated and inflexible? Why did Wayne Rooney perform like a shadow of his Manchester United self?

Most importantly, why were England – with all the star players – so markedly inferior to a young and inexperienced Germany?

Dark days lie ahead.

Germany: Neuer, Lahm, Friedrich, Mertesacker, Boateng, Schweinsteiger, Khedira, Muller (Trochowski 72), Ozil (Kiessling 83), Podolski, Klose (Gomez 72). Subs Not Used: Wiese, Jansen, Aogo, Tasci, Badstuber, Cacau, Kroos, Marin, Butt.
Booked: Friedrich.

England: James, Johnson (Wright-Phillips 87), Terry, Upson, Ashley Cole, Milner (Joe Cole 63), Lampard, Barry, Gerrard, Defoe (Heskey 71), Rooney. Subs Not Used: Green, Dawson, Lennon, Crouch, Warnock, Carragher, King, Carrick, Hart.
Booked: Johnson.

David Platt wheels away in celebration after his last-minute winner over Belgium in the last sixteen of Italia 90

David Platt wheels away in celebration after his last-minute winner over Belgium in the last sixteen of Italia 90

After England squeezed past Slovenia yesterday and scraped almost apologetically into the knockout stages of the 2010 World Cup, thoughts inevitably turned to tournaments past and England’s roller-coaster rides during the business end.

The one trotted out most frequently by the pundits last night was Italia 90, when England – as they did here – drew their first game 1-1, their second 0-0 and squeaked a 1-0 win in their final game to go through.

Once they got to the latter stages twenty years ago, Bobby Robson’s team bundled their way to the semi-finals where they were outsmarted on penalties by Germany in a tearful, heroic defeat.

Now, plenty of pundits think the omens of Italia 90 mean a similar tub-thumping run to the semis for England this time around, complete with Terry Butcher and Chris Waddle-esque “let’s all ‘ave a disco” dancing. Look a little closer, however, and things start to unravel.

Even though the 2010 scorelines match those in the group stages in 1990, there is one crucial difference from then to now: in 1990, England won the group.

Holland and the Republic Of Ireland’s failure to beat Egypt meant that England’s path to the semi-finals was blocked by distinctly beatable opposition.

Skillful but uninspiring Belgium were taken out thanks to David Platt’s late winner in a disjointed performance and two Gary Lineker penalties accounted for the brilliant but fragile Cameroon.

England, inspired by the fearless Paul Gascoigne, proved equal to the eventual winners in the last four, but that was by far their best performance, half an hour against the Dutch in the group stage aside. However well England played against the Germans, there’s no doubt that their path to the semi-finals in Italy was smoothed substantially by topping the group.

The Republic of Ireland, Runners-up behind England in Group F, had a much trickier proposition once they got to the knockout phase. They had to face a dangerous Romania side – led by the mercurial Georghe Hagi – who they dramatically took out on penalties, then feel the force of the hosts, Italy. Sadly for Big Jack Charlton and Ireland, Roberto Baggio and co swatted away their challenge with ease.

Now, like the Republic of Ireland, England must face in-form and powerful opponents if they are to repeat their semi-final appearance: first Germany, then a likely meeting with Diego Maradona’s Argentina.

On the plus side, England should give Germany a good game. They showed enough against Slovenia to suggest they can actually pass the ball and England teams usually play better football against superior opposition. England rarely relish the tag of favourites and they will go into the match against Joachim Low’s dynamic young side as underdogs and with nothing to lose, and this could work to their advantage.

If they do make it past Germany, they will have to play to their absolute maximum to see off the free-wheeling Argentinians who have the potential to win the tournament, slightly dodgy defence notwithstanding.

Fabio Capello will undoubtedly be delighted his side are still alive in the World Cup, but he will be ruing England’s presence in a quartet of Germany, Argentina and Mexico fighting for a semi-final place, rather than the far palatable combination of South Korea, Ghana and Uruguay.

Perhaps a fairer comparison with Italia 90 is the experience of European champions Holland, who finished third in Group F behind the Republic of Ireland after lots were drawn. They were soundly beaten in a bad tempered game at the San Siro in the last 16 by – yes, you guessed it – Germany.

More than just a man - www.footballpictures.net

Few professional footballers have experienced half of the ups and downs of Diego Armando Maradona. Like a Rottweiler on acid, El Diego has furiously squeezed in more drugs, goals, expulsions and heart attacks than seems humanly possible for a man still in his 40s.

In a simultaneously glittering and grubby career, his genius yielded a World Cup and the greatest goal of all time, while his darker side has given us the Hand of God, drug bans and wounded journalists.

Now, despite his God-like status in Argentina – largely thanks to his monumental performances at the victorious 1986 World Cup – huge question marks hang over his ability to bring the best out of his side in South Africa.

Argentina scraped through the South American qualifying marathon, suffering their biggest ever defeat along the way – a 6-1 tonking in Bolivia. Maradona called up 108 players during the stuttering campaign, with their ticket to South Africa only sealed thanks to late winners in their last two games.

After the final game – a 1-0 defeat of Paraguay – Maradona took out his frustration on the press pack who until that point had made his life hell. “Suck it and keep on sucking it,” he told them. FIFA subsequently banned him from “all footballing activity” for two months.

A relative novice to top-flight coaching (he collected a total of just three wins in 23 games at two Argentine clubs before taking the top job), his selections and tactics have caused bafflement and dismay in equal measure to the media in Argentina and beyond.

The general consensus is that Maradona is clueless as a manager, getting this far only because is squad is littered with world-class players. Like the ever-pilloried French coach Raymond Domenech, many argue that his team has succeeded in spite of, rather than because of his efforts.

Critics label his management style as wild-eyed exuberance rather than cold efficiency – undoubtedly, Maradona has none of the pragmatism and tactical nous of his contemporaries Dunga of Brazil and Marcello Lippi of Italy.

But could this chest-beating style – sending the boys out to just go out and play – actually benefit his side in a knockout tournament?

South America’s notoriously arduous qualifying process (each team plays a whopping 18 games) suits the more cautiously-minded. Grinding out draws away from home and making your own ground a fortress are the order of the day – outcomes ill-suited to Diego’s gung-ho style.

A tournament, however, where the winner must get through a group then navigate just four emotion-fuelled games, could suit Maradona’s unpredictability to a tee.

Like in 1986, his footballing genius and frenzied national pride could galvanise his prodigiously talented team to great things. In Messi, they have the world’s best player, and in captain Javier Mascherano, and centre-half Walter Samuel they have a granite-like defensive spine.

Only Maradona knows why he left out Javier Zanetti and Esteban Cambiasso, Samuel’s club mates and fellow Champions League winners at Inter. Nor is it easy to explain the presence of 36-year-old striker Martin Palermo.

Pragmatism usually triumphs over attacking flamboyance, as demonstrated by Italy at the last World Cup. But occasionally, the team that throws caution to the wind can ride a tidal wave of joie-de-vivre all the way to the title.

Maradona has promised to run naked through the streets of Buenos Aires should his team return with the trophy. While that image is enough to will them to fail, it would not be a great surprise to see substantially more than the Hand of God after the final on July 11.

Inter fans have their own Supreme Pontiff - but for how long?

Champions League Final
Bayern Munich 0-2 Inter Milan

In the end Madrid saw the perfect Mourinho performance.

The ‘Special One’ set out his players in two deep-lying barriers outside their own penalty area and invited Bayern Munich to break them down. They could not.

He asked his players to seize on any chance to get behind the German champion’s high defensive line on the break and capitalise with ruthless efficiency. They did. Twice.

Crucially, the Portuguese called on that most elusive of footballing qualities: luck. Bayern opened up his Inter defence more than once but were unable to make it count.

Inter’s lone frontman Diego Milito, on the other hand, made everything count. In many ways he sums up Mourinho’s tactical approach. The Argentine runs himself into the ground working selflessly for the collective, rarely concedes possession, and comes up with the goods when it really matters.

As full-time approached, it was a procession – Mourinho shook his former mentor Louis Van Gaal’s hand before revelling in the celebrations of a hard-fought 2-0 win and an unprecedented treble for his Inter Milan team.

In fairness to Van Gaal, until the second goal Bayern had played their part in an absorbing match. Utterly dominating the first half and threatening repeatedly, his side had looked the more likely team to score before Milito’s 35th minute opener. After the break they tore at Inter and were unlucky not to equalise.

Indeed, if Julio Cesar had not stretched to palm away a trademark Arjen Robben curler at 1-0 the story could have been quite different.

The Dutch winger threatened in the first-half too, setting up Ivica Olic – who slammed his shot wide – after easily beating Christian Chivu. The Romanian had been drafted in at left-back to compensate for the loss of the suspended Thiago Motta and his inexperience showed.

For all their possession, Bayern’s best chance came in a frantic period immediately after half-time. Hamit Altintop slipped Thomas Mueller in between Inter’s central defensive pair of Lucio and Walter Samuel but Cesar blocked his low drive.

Moments later, it was Bayern’s turn to breathe easy after Butt turned Pandev’s curling shot over the bar.

The pattern of play had been established early on – Inter content to defend deep and invite Bayern to find a way through – and the game remained finely balanced until Milito’s second goal, with the Germans continually probing.

And, while this victory must be viewed first and foremost as yet another monumental team effort from Inter, it was Milito who was undoubtedly the game’s standout performer.

His first goal came from nowhere and was totally against the run of play. Bayern centre-back Demichelis failed to prevent his compatriot knocking down a Cesar clearance and allowed the striker to drift past him onto Sneijder’s neat return ball.

As defenders closed in around him, Milito showed remarkable composure on the edge of the box to trick the goalkeeper into going to ground with the slightest of feints before expertly dinking the ball over him into the roof of the net.

Snjeider should have made it 2-0 moments later when Milito returned the favour but his weak shot was easily kept out by Butt.

If anything Milito’s second goal after 70 minutes was even more impressive and neatly encapsulated Inter’s performance. Walter Samuel threw himself in front of Olic, blocking the Croatian’s goal-bound shot, before the ball was immediately transferred up the field to leave Milito one-on-one with Van Buyten. The striker faked to go inside before beating his man with alarming ease and steering the ball past the onrushing Butt.

That made it 30 goals for the season for the 30-year-old Argentine striker and he will be one to watch at the World Cup in South Africa. As will his international team-mate Samuel – his performance at the heart of Inter’s defence was immense.

And with yet another victory, Jose Mourinho writes a new chapter in football’s history books, becoming only the third man to win two European Cups with different clubs.

If Barcelona and Pep Guardiola are the artists of world football, then Inter and Mourinho are the engineers. Barca, so successful last season with their myriad of tiny brushstrokes, were vanquished in this year’s semi-finals by an Inter side obsessed with function, strength and exacting specifications. So too were freewheeling Bayern.

Franck Ribery’s absence through suspension was critical for them – the Frenchman’s skills would have caused Inter problems but without him the Italians only really had to worry about Robben.

If this was Mourinho’s job interview for the job at Real Madrid then he surely passed with flying colours. Whether Real’s fans, who demand style as much as substance, want his pragmatic masterplan at the Santiago Bernabéu is open to debate. What isn’t in doubt is what he will bring: trophies.

Van Gaal and Mourinho as manager and assistant at Barcelona

This Saturday night at Madrid’s Bernabéu stadium two of European football’s great clubs – Bayern Munich and Inter Milan – will slug it out for the Champions League crown.

Both have savoured the ultimate glory in the past and this final represents a return to form for two of the competition’s under-performers in the last few years.

Bayern lifted the last of their four titles in 2001 while you have to go all the way back to 1964 and 1965 for Inter’s two victories.

A win would for either would cap a remarkable season – both have won their domestic double already – with the perfect finale of a first treble.

But it’s not just the prospective glory of the two clubs at stake. Both managers in Saturday’s showpiece have the chance to join a select band of men to guide different clubs to victory in Europe’s top competition.

Only two coaches, Austrian legend Ernst Happel with Feyenoord and Hamburg, and Sir Alex Ferguson’s nemesis Ottmar Hitzfeld with Borussia Dortmund and Bayern, have gone all the way with different clubs, and whoever prevails on Saturday will join that prestigious list.

In Jose Mourinho’s relatively short career as a top-level manager – just 10 years – he has won Europe’s top prize with unfancied Porto and accumulated domestic titles in England and Italy like policy concessions in a coalition government.

But despite all that achievement, the Special One has repeatedly come up short when it really matters in what he regards as the world’s most important football competition. And yes, he does include the World Cup.

Van Gaal won the Champions League in 1995 with an outrageously talented Ajax side but never scaled those heights again at Barcelona where he enjoyed two spells as coach.

Now, at Bayern, he has reinvigorated ‘FC Hollywood’ after they lost their way under the eccentric stewardship of Jürgen Klinsmann and given them a much needed new lease of life.

Intriguingly, Mourinho worked as assistant to Van Gaal at Barca, where the Special One claims he learned everything he needed to know about organisation and defence.

Van Gaal favours attacking football at Bayern and his side have already accounted for Manchester United. But without the influential Franck Ribery – missing through suspension – they may lack the firepower to break down the mean and moody Inter back line.

Mourinho – and his self-enforced siege mentality – has whipped his Inter team and their fans into a footballing frenzy. Expect the Special One to waltz off into the Madrid night with a second European cup and a new job in the same city.

Prime Minister Gordon Brown adopts a cheerful stance

It was around 3pm on my second day of work experience at The Star, Sheffield’s daily newspaper, when the shout came across the office in my direction: “Do you want to go and meet Gordon Brown?”

Twenty minutes later I was sprinting through the city with the paper’s political correspondent en route to a five-minute chat at Sheffield Station with the Labour leader. We got there just in time and, while my colleague was ushered to a seat in the open-plan cafe at the station entrance, I hovered and tried to blend in seamlessly with the press pack.

“Are you with the media?” asked a rather worried looking Labour press officer.
“I am indeed. I’m on a work experience placement with The Star,” I said. She looked at me quizically, decidedly nonplussed.
“Where to next?”, I asked.
“I can’t tell you,” she said. “Sorry. Please excuse me.” before moving swiftly on to someone more important.

As the minutes ticked past the scheduled arrival time, the level of expectation on the station concourse was swelling. One man asked what all the fuss was about then promptly disappeared saying, “I’ve read the manifesto so I have no questions.” Cameramen and boom operators looked furtively at the opening from where the former PM would emerge while the party press officers planned his path through the now crowded cafe. Everyone was thinking the same question: “Was his train late?”

And then, suddenly, the Mr Brown barrelled through the concourse, all purposeful strides and gleaming teeth. His pink tie screamed, “I’m nice!” His silver mane oozed gravitas. His imposing head signalled his mighty intellect.

Journalists, photographers and nervous looking apparatchiks floundered in his wake, rather like the tiny fish that feed on the hide of blue whales. And moving rather wistfully behind was the chancellor, Alastair Darling, looking for all the world as if he had just popped out to lunch after a cheerfully productive boardroom meeting.

As his burly protectors glared at anyone who looked like they might attempt to touch something other than his permanently outstretched right hand, Mr Brown swept through the cafe crowd in a flurry of handshakes. The universal greeting of the day? “Lovely to meet you.”

I lurked discreetly and impartially to one side surveying the scene but within seconds, without warning, he was right in front of me with his hand outstretched. Seizing my moment I accepted his (surprisingly soft) handshake and countered his now familiar “lovely to meet you” with the incisive, “hello Prime Minister”. Quite a moment in my journalistic career.

The minders were then briefly called into action when a rather scary looking young man gave the former PM a less than conventional handshake and drawled, “how you doing?” Luckily, a security beast shuffled forward and administered a look of death sufficient to keep him from attempting a prime ministerial bear-hug.

Alastair Darling sensibly kept his circle of friends much tighter, engaging in conversation with an elderly lady who seemed charmed by his talk of fiscal tightening.

And then it was down to the business of the interview. My colleague at The Star, Richard Marsden, did an admirable job among the melee to keep his cool and interview both the former PM and Chancellor over a now cold cup of tea.

A few moments later it was all over and the hordes careered out of the station in Mr Brown’s considerable wake.

As the dust settled a middle-aged lady approached another middle-aged lady. Both looked like station staff. The one who had witnessed the whole thing greeted the newcomer with, “you just missed Gordon Brown – you could have asked him a question.”

“Eeee,” she replied. “It wouldn’t have been fit for the evening news. It would have just been BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.”

The debut novel from Bruce Robinson, writer of the cult 80s movie Withnail & I, is a darkly comic look at a young boy’s life in the 1950s and the weird and not-so-wonderful characters that inhabit it.

Thomas Penman, is a “thirteen-year-old asthmatic short-arse with big ears and an unwholesome characteristic.” The details of this characteristic shall remain unsaid for now but be assured that its unwholesomeness is beyond question.

His life is complicated by his dysfunctional family, the only member of which he can relate to is his dying grandfather Walter, a veteran of the first World War whose colourful, secret life is a source of constant fascination.

Thomas’ only other real friend is his schoolmate Maurice, and the two of them share a charming passion for cigarettes and pornography.

Amidst this myriad of factors holding him down, nothing seems to go right for Thomas until his love for the girl of his dreams seems to be reciprocated.

There is a delightful surrealism to Robinson’s writing, which is punctuated by vignettes of seemingly nonsensical asides. For from detracting from the story, however, these asides provide a welcome comic aspect to a succession of memorable scenes.

The language is forthright, so this is not a book for the easily offended, and fans of Withnail & I will instantly recognise Robinson’s raucous turns of phrase.

This is one of those brilliant novels that starts slowly but then draws you into a world in which the fate of its sympathetic and whole characters take on emotional significance.

Highly recommended.