Capello a man who makes hard decisions look simple and easy
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Fabio Capello's ruthless clarity over the John Terry saga contrasted sharply with the laissez-faire approach of the past. Photograph: Lindsey Parnaby/EPA
In the vast mediasphere we see the moral absolutists going over the top to demand a crucifixion, then the moral relativists ride in to cut the absolutists down. The ironists usually win in the end because they have the best jokes and can float above the fray, claiming detachment, parading superior intellect.
It is just a game, like football: a journalistic, blogtastic game of sanctimony versus cool. England's is a culture talking itself to brain death. Outside the circulation war and its website equivalent most English folk positioned themselves between extremes. They thought John Terry was a wild man, a slave to his appetites, but mistrusted the assertion that an England captain should be sacked for having extra-marital sex, which this saga was never really about. At its heart was persistent misuse of the leader's role: the latest being the allegation that an associate of Terry's management team offered the use of his skipper's subsidised Wembley box for £4,000 in readies.
A picture formed of Terry as a desperate opportunist who will take you round Chelsea's training ground for £10,000 in £50 notes, park on a disabled space and hawk access to the England captain in the run-up to a World Cup. Of course, these cravings, this recklessness, contradict the image he projected of himself on the pitch. The indomitable warrior, the East End enforcer, turned out to have no control at all.
All the way through this frenzy it was impossible to stop wondering how Sven-Goran Eriksson would have handled it. It is safe to assume the phrases "zero tolerance" and "not on my watch" would have been far from Eriksson's lips as Terry went through the gamut of mortifying scrutiny and censure and finally lost the armband at Wembley on Friday.
During Svennis' spell in the radioactive tracksuit there were many tense Saturday nights at the Football Association's headquarters as press officers awaited the thud of the red-top first editions. One imagines the fire-dousers playing Texas Hold'em and glancing twitchily at the clock in the hope that there would be no fake sheikh or Ulrika Jonsson, no cry of "action stations!"
Jamie Carragher in his autobiography describes Eriksson's response to a newspaper story about women sneaking into the England billets. Carragher writes: "'There's no need to have girls in the team hotel,' Sven told us. 'If you see someone you like, just get her phone number and arrange to go to her house after the game. Then we will have no problems.'"
You can even hear him saying it. Until Fabio Capello acted with ruthless clarity on Friday afternoon we were back to those days of fearing the News of the World's power to make people rich for kissing and telling, as the FA rifled its media contacts book to find out what today's prints might carry. Is there any other country, one wonders, that is run by Sunday revelation?
At least it was only a player this time, not the manager. From laissez-faire the FA ran with their pants on fire to the other end of the spectrum, where rectitude and righteousness reside. There they found Capello, who commendably insisted that Terry motor to Wembley for their debrief rather than join him in some paparazzi-evading caper round the shires. We knew some kind of clash was coming, from the day the Don was appointed, but no one could have expected such a spectacular collision of order and chaos.
So what have we learned from this excruciating modern tale of the insatiable in pursuit of the unallowable? First, that there are thousands of saints in Burnley and Hull. The blameless multitudes who booed the Chelsea captain in games last week are presumably all close friends of Wayne Bridge as well as defenders of the public good who have never sinned.
Second, that actions have consequences with Capello, who barely sees the names on England shirts, only the duties the crest confers. We thought Capello's decision would be hard. He made it look easy. Terry had confronted a kind of stern Italian referee who limped over to him, pointed to the three spots on the pitch where he had already fouled up and showed him the red card. You don't need to be Norman Tebbit to feel that parking in disabled spaces, urinating on dance floors and using the role of England captain to do deals for cash is unbecoming of the role.
The World Cup will be rammed with compromised household names. Terry joins a distinguished cast. For starters there is Thierry Henry, who double-cheated France past the Republic of Ireland with his two-stage handball. And let's not leave out Diego Maradona, Argentina coach, fisted-goal artiste, performance-enhancing drug cheat and tax amnesiac during his time in Serie A. Is there a place in the hills where we can escape what we are?