Headmaster Capello has given our dunces the chance to finish top of the class

By Brian Reade

Published 21:51 16/10/09

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It would have been easy for Fabio Capello to throw a toga-party on Wednesday night and allow himself to be feted like Caesar.

To put his arm around "man-of-the-match" David Beckham, and remind his critics that three years ago his predecessor had thrown his golden balls to the lions. To hail Peter Crouch a giant among men, and give notice that John Terry and his other brave centurions were about to conquer the world.

Instead he derided Beckham's award, hinted Crouch had a lot of work to do, claimed HE knew all there was to know about his players and all WE needed to know was at half-time he'd given them the mother of all rollickings.

Anyone still unsure as to why England will be in South Africa next summer and why they weren't in Austria two summers ago, was given their answer.

It may seem cruel to compare Steve McClaren's reign with Capello's. Like mentioning the Nolan Sisters' re-union in the same breath as Led Zeppelin's. But their contrasting times in charge are a managerial masterclass in how to treat multi-millionaire brands we occasionally refer to as footballers.

How did McClaren, who spent six years with the same players under Sven Goran Eriksson, produce  this record in the Euro qualifiers: Played 12; points 23; finished six points behind Croatia? Yet Capello, who knew little about any of them and couldn't speak English, produced these stats: Played: 10; points 27; finished seven points ahead of Croatia at a canter.

Did the same players radically improve or  new superstars emerge? No. Was he luckier with injuries? No. But there was one difference that shone like a set of polished gnashers. The fear and respect he commanded from players, who soon realised they were pawns not kings.

Capello's philosophy was simple. Lay down strict rules, never get friendly, ration the praise and treat them as coldly as you would the tools in your shed.

McClaren was the polar opposite, viewing the job as that of a modern political leader's. Where a photogenic, PR-friendly kinda guy, tries to keep everyone happy and invents policy on the hoof.    After every win against mediocre opponents he was like the CEO of  Superlatives 'R' Us, describing those who'd played well as "phenomenal." He'd spew sycophancy towards men he called  "JT, Stevie G, and Lamps," sounding as tragic as a 50-year-old MP claiming the number one song on his iPod was by "The Arctics."

It was a familiarity that bred contempt, first among outsiders, then among the players. Because his eulogising forced them to believe they only had to turn up to succeed, and when they didn't, they were humiliated.

From day one with Capello everything changed. From their attitude and appearance to what they did in their free time. They became soldiers reporting for national service, with only the most dedicated required.

It's why they marched to a World Cup with a professionalism never seen in England in recent decades. It's why none will be allowed to make a commercial killing en route to South Africa, no Rio's Wind-Ups and Beckingham Palace parties. Why the hype factor will remain as low as it possibly can.

FA Suits take note. Never again indulge yourselves in that banal debate about whether an Englishman or a foreigner should manage the national side. It's not about where you're from but where you're at.

Capello's success is down to an old-school teacher ordering a class of spoilt brats who'd been over-indulged by leather-patched trendies, to get their feet off the desks, and get their heads down or they'd be whacked. McClaren was the carrot. Capello, the stick.

And the stick has finally given our dunces a chance of passing next summer's exam.

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