WHAT ominous irony that just as England’s former great hope Paul Gascoigne was in America undergoing a new bout of rehabilitation for his alcoholism, another fledgling national talent was being hailed to high heaven.

Jack Wilshere was England’s dominant force in the rare midweek victory over Brazil in a friendly effectively to celebrate the FA’s 150th anniversary, but more in keeping with paying off the mountain of debt piled high by the building of the new Wembley.

Incidentally, when does new Wembley simply become Wembley? It’s like travelling along a familiar route featuring a sign “new road layout ahead”, yet you’ve driven that self-same road and been assailed by that self-same information for nigh on six months.

Anyway the turbulent tow-path that Gascoigne has taken – unbelievable heights scaled then indescribably barrel-scraping lows suffered – is hopefully a signpost to the precocious Wilshire that, above all else, he should jettison all the hype, all the hullabaloo and all the hangers-on that no doubt will attend in increasing numbers as his star ascends football’s dubious firmament.

Wilshere’s performance against the latest Brazilian blend, albeit it the famous sunshine yellow, blue and white colours inhabited by rather lacklustre successors to a dazzling heritage, was another illustration of just how accomplished the 22-year-old attacker is.

I only witnessed the first half – that tiresome double ‘T’ axis of Clive Tyldesley and Andy Townsend just does my scone in. Even with the sound turned down there’s no escape from their warblings insidiously burying themselves in your head.

But in those 45 minutes, and despite such feeble opposition, the man who has slalomed through the youth ranks to become arguably Arsenal’s most pivotal performer, was a prodigious sockeye salmon leap above the rest of his white-shirted team-mates.

The ball seemingly adhered to his feet he glides at speed past flailing challenges, unhinging defences like a master locksmith. It’s like a pacey waltz which creates havoc among rival rearguards.

But as a natural successor to the likes of Hudson, Currie, Hoddle and Gascoigne there are two potential barriers to Wilshere becoming the hub of creativity in the England team for the next decade and more.

The first, and admittedly given how current boss Roy Hodgson has willingly turned to flair, is what has always been a national caution about maverick midfielders, whose magic boots are often mistrusted by those in command.

Refreshingly Hodgson appears to be more of disciple in the Ron Greenwood, Joe Mercer, Bobby Robson mould when it comes to England leadership rather than that of other occupiers of the England hot-seat.

So perhaps Wilshere, and the rest of us, can look forward to a career at the heart of the national team enduring for more than just almost a begrudged handful of appearances as less gifted yeomen come in to amass caps by the very fistful.

It’s a curious condition of England football on the international scene that extreme midfield talents are bypassed when other nations take them to their collective bosom and nurture them. You wonder whether Gerson (de Oliveira Nunes of the 1970 Brazil World-Cup winning team), Gunter Netzer, Fernando Redondo, Zinedine Zidane, or even Andrés Iniesta, been allowed to flourish in the three lions camp.

The second barrier is the unrealistic and untenable pressure of carrying a nation’s hopes on slender shoulders and the unwelcome eminence of such status.

Gascoigne imploded, his burgeoning talents never fully realised. Now he is a husk of the man-child who set a nation’s hearts stirring.

His latest recovery programme has prompted football to surround him with good wishes, but football – teamed to his own full-on temperament – may well have failed him in the first place. Once the off-field headlines eclipsed playing accomplishments Gascoigne, I refuse to use the epithet that so marked him, was all but doomed.

In his favour Wilshere does seem less light-headed and has more in his corner with the guidance of his Arsenal boss Arsene Wenger and that too of England coach Hodgson.

But if the media hype builds to the crescendo that was to envelop Gascoigne then he and those closest to him, us in the media too, should heed the warning.

Maestro can so quickly be subsumed by maelstrom.


A stamp of disapproval 

York Press: Football stamps

BESIDES the FA’s birthday, football was commemorated in these stamps this week when 11 players from England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales had their visages enthroned.

But only two Scots, one Welsh and one Irish player in Denis Law, Dave Mackay, John Charles and the late George Best?

What about Jimmy Johnstone, Kenny Dalglish, Ivor Allchurch, Neville Southall, Ian Rush, Danny Blanchflower, Billy Bingham? Hmmmm.