End it like Beckham

Becks gets the bumps PSG-style after his final appearance.

I've read some crap in my time, but Chris Waddle's recent comment that David Beckham, following his retirement, wouldn't make it into the top 1,000 players in Premier League history, would, er, probably make it into the top 1,000 most stupid observations of all time. You'd expect it from a cretin like Terry Butcher, who saw his battle in a blood-stained shirt against Sweden all those years ago − as admirable as that was − as being the sole definition of English bulldog spirit, and how dare a weakling like Beckham take the captain's armband, but not from the usually eloquent Waddle.

It was particularly bizarre considering both he and Beckham were of a very similar but rare breed - wide men with technical ability well above that of the dogged English norm (hi Mr Butcher!), scorers of breathtaking goals, wowers of crowds on the continent, spectacular penalty missers etc. English fans have a tendency to ostracise naturally gifted players and focus on weaknesses rather than strengths − Matt Le Tissier was a lazy, luxury player, Glenn Hoddle too lightweight, etc. Beckham's weak link was his lack of pace but it hardly mattered considering his exceptional ability to cross a ball.

Chris Waddle's finest moment. Maybe.

Waddle is a pundit who has long bemoaned − and rightly so − the national team's inability to keep possession, yet here in front of him was a player who has always been able to do precisely that. Beckham was in the England team that outplayed Italy in Rome back in 1997 − seen by many as one of England's best ever away performances (even though the scoreline was 0-0) − and the fact he was able to defend responsibly in a right wing-back role but also creep intelligently into spaces in the attacking third to link up cohesively with the established Paul Gascoigne and Paul Ince in midfield demonstrated his effectiveness as both an individual and team player. You can only assume Beckham must have snapped the one remaining copy of Waddle's Diamond Lights single in half − and his relationship with Hoddle was somewhat frosty as well, come to think of it − to earn such an insult.

The point is, forget the brand, his celebrity wife, global superstardom, Beckham was not simply off-the-scale hyperbole, he was a bloody good footballer. In fact, other than Cristiano Ronaldo and Andrei Kanchelskis − his successor and predecessor respectively, funnily enough − it's difficult to think of a better player in his preferred right-midfield position since the beginning of the Premier League. And even then, Beckham played enough games in the centre to hypothetically accommodate either of the other two. When Manchester United were briefly dethroaned by Arsenal in the top-flight pecking order, the Gunners' right hand side consisted of the likes of Freddie Ljungberg and Ray Parlour. Jose Mourinho's Chelsea, the only other team to challenge and better United in the mid-2000s, used their full-backs to provide the width going forward. You get the picture.

This may shock some who know me well but David Beckham is genuinely a hero of mine. In a football world dominated by self-centred, stroppy ego-maniacs, Beckham, for such a massively high-profile figure, largely conducted himself with admirable dignity and even modesty throughout his career. Rather than milking his sensational goal from the halfway line against Wimbledon for Man U, in subsequent interviews he chose to say what a nice bloke then Wimbledon goalkeeper Neil Sullivan was when the pair met in the bar after the game.

Neil Sullivan kickstarted Beckham's international career.

To be honest I've always had a defend-the-indefensible mentality football-wise − I found the battering of Emile Heskey very harsh, for example − but Beckham's strength of character on the field has been nothing short of miraculous. The continual abuse he received around the country following his sending off against Argentina in the 1998 World Cup was shocking and embarrassing − and I say that as someone who has barely ever supported Man U other than in the Champions League (and even then I pick and choose games). Supporting a team in the lower leagues has always been something of a safe haven from that point of view; at least there crowd abuse tends to be on the wittier side.

Post-1998, Beckham could easily have gone off the rails, quit football altogether or at the very least given his England career a double-fingered salute. The fact he dusted himself down, largely fended off the insults and strove to win his abusers round instead says it all. You have to give Alex Ferguson a lot of credit for that, of course; say what you like about him but Fergie has always looked after his players impeccably.                     

England-wise, has there ever been a gutsier individual performance than Beckham's against Greece in 2001? Admittedly the Greeks were a rapidly improving team that became European Champions three years later, but England looked weary-legged from kick-off, and Beckham clearly knew it. He continually popped up left, right and centre to drag his team through a torrid match, and that free-kick was more than just the icing on the cake; it was the moment he hurled eggs at the faces of all those who had previously hurled darts at him on a board devised by The Sun. People alongside me in the pub were bawling their eyes out while I bounced around like a demented golden labrador staring a bowl of Pedigree Chum in the face on the kitchen table (other brands are available). And, of course, it all came full circle a year later when Beckham smashed home a match-winning penalty against Argentina in the World Cup to land tears on the opposition players who had nearly destroyed him four years earlier.

Suddenly the doubters realised just how proud Beckham was to be an Englishman and how much he loved the game. During a period when England players were starting to pull out of midweek friendlies with 'knocks', only to start the next domestic game three days later, or retire in their 20s, Beckham wanted to play in every game. Even when he relinquished the captaincy after the 2006 World Cup, he chose not to retire and didn't throw his toys out of the pram when Steve McLaren dropped him from the squad altogether. Beckham bounced back again, of course, when the Euro 2008 qualification campaign went disastrously wrong, but it was too late by then.

Injury ruled Beckham out of the 2010 World Cup but there he was once more, sat in the England dugout in an unofficial managerial role to spur the team on. He was mocked by many for doing so but I don't think I was the only one who wished he'd been fit enough to take on a German team who barely had to break sweat to knock England out.   

Not that Beckham was a complete saint, of course. He remains the only England player to have been sent off twice and only captain to have been red-carded at all. His admittance he deliberately received a yellow card against Wales in a World Cup qualifier to earn him a one-match ban for a game he knew he would miss through injury, was as naive as his challenge on Diego Simeone in 1998, and he was lucky to escape punishment.           

Fair enough, the level of media coverage allocated to Beckham over the years has been absurd at times, but accusations of style over substance are just plain wrong. You don't play (and score) in three World Cups, captain your country, win 115 international caps under five different managers (seven if you include Howard Wilkinson and Peter Taylor); or win trophies for four different clubs in four different leagues, without being a bit good. He may not have been a genius in the mould of Pele, Maradona, Best, Baggio, or even a fully fit Gascoigne, but from England's so-called 'golden generation', there has not been a better manipulator of a football, whether it be a killer set-piece, a fizzing outswinging cross, a mesmerising crossfield pass or a 35-yard belter, than David Beckham.

Any youngster wanting to learn how to reach and stay at the highest level while overcoming major battles with managers, players, media and fans along the way; and be the perfect ambassador for his or her country on a number of levels, could do worse than look up to this man.