As this season pails out into tedium, I find myself thinking about more general, almost philosophical aspects of our beautiful game. And amidst the aimless wanderings of my mind, I seem to find myself puzzled by a phenomenon that I have experienced for many years, and the impact it has on the game: the idolisation of football players.

An example of the star status enjoyed by footballers is in the latest round of David Beckham’s contract negotiations. If ever there has been a star of English football, to whom all little children aim their aspiration, it is probably David Beckham. Attractive, professional, talented, nice bird and already hideously overpaid, now his agents feel that Manchester United should be shelling out for “image rights”.

And well they might. There are enough little girls and boys, not to mention a few of my mates, who have built up their own Beckham shrines for his image rights to be a seriously lucrative asset. Other sports, mainly in the USA, have done the same and with no really bad consequences. Teams milk the profit, and model professionals get their positive image thrown around the country.

However, I can’t help but see this as a problem. The underlying practice is the idolisation, deification even, of human beings. This inevitably causes some difficulties, as anyone who has had media attention will testify. I remember meeting Stuart Pearce for the first and only time, and I was utterly star-struck. Not a word passed from my mouth, not so much as a thank you, as I received his signature and passed on by. This is just the tip of the iceberg I fear. On the part of the fan, the awe in which superstar footballers are held can be an inhibition. For all the talented youngsters who fulfil their potential from ambition fuelled by an idol of sorts, there must be many more who are overwhelmed by the prospect of this idolisation.

Even on the part of those who do make it, idolisation is a negative thing. The expectations of a footballer transcend those that can reasonably be expected of a human being. Gareth Southgate’s penalty miss, a Barthez blunder, a Marlon miss are all examples of how each and every footballer is not perfect. And how can they be, when they are playing against people of comparably talent? When one team plays another, it is not actually a match between Good and Evil, but of 11 sportsmen against 11 opposition sportsmen. In this way, expectations are raised onto a level that is dangerous, and deadly, if you happen to be a Colombian defender of dubious quality. Imagine the amount of times Frank Sinclair would have lost his life, if he was playing in South America.

The South American example also demonstrates the further problems of stardom, those off the pitch problems that are becoming a feature of the modern British game. South American footballers tend to be the worst of the lot. Edmundo should still be behind bars for his crimes, and Diego Maradona is a classic example of a celebrity whose ego got that little bit bigger than his talent was. Sadly, this phenomenon is being repeated here. Hayden Foxe may just be a demented prat, Johnathon Woodgate a racist. Yet this startling increase in downright inhuman behaviour is symptomatic of the role that a footballer seems to have to fulfil. The footballer has to be a confident and all-important, and if the environment in which the modern footballer-superstar is placed is a bar or night club, then that role may end up being the arrogant twat who causes trouble. If Craig Bellamy was not considered to be worth £10m or more, would he be the type of bloke to make a fool out of himself?

The economic factors of football are particularly important in this regard. Footballers are hideously overpaid, and part of the myth that surrounds them is this abnormal salary they command. Here, the dangers of high wages and astronomic transfer fees can become felt on the pitch. With such important individual markers as sponsorship earnings and annual salary, the footballer will necessarily become a self serving agent. This will, unless the footballer is extraordinarily professional, be to the detriment of the team that employs said high earner, and perhaps to the player himself. Hell, we’ve known a few. Pierre Van Hooijdonk, Lars Bohinen, Stan Collymore are examples we all know and love to hate. Nicolas Anelka is perhaps the best example of a footballer whose concern rested purely on his own personal benefit. Since those days of teenage success at Arsenal, a tremendous talent has lost form, and looks a shadow of the player that so excited the Premiership only a few years ago.

Of course, high wages tend to go hand in hand with success. Manchester United’s wage bill is already fantastically large, and will continue to increase. Yet they have maintained a high rate of success. This is largely to do with the fact that all their players have extraordinary levels of professional integrity. Dare I mention Roy Keane’s professional nature? His loyalty only to the best pay packet has not hindered his position as the lynchpin of Manchester United’s midfield, and is arguably the most influential team player in the Premiership.

But how long can their success continue with the temptations of personal profit becoming more of a consideration than how good the team they play in is? I dare suggest that with personal incentive overshadowing the team spirit that has been Manchester United’s saving grace, they will lose their edge and fall from grace. This is a danger that all teams face if they treat their players as superstars, not as footballers.

Could this be where Nottingham Forest went wrong? Can it perhaps explain how a Premiership club has fallen so completely from grace, and languished in a lower division? Did we, affected by the malaise of idolisation and high expectation, fail because we were up against teams whose players were not overpaid and who did not have big name stars? I think we did. We were struck by our own star status. Indeed, we remain in this position. We hail the raw talents of our youngsters like the Messiah has arisen from our very own Academy. We thought Chris Bart-Williams was the best thing since sliced bread, when really he was just a piece of burnt toast. Nottingham Forest needs just that little bit more of a reality shock to compete effectively at this level. We need to shake off our star status. We need to be team, not a showpiece (and a pretty ugly showpiece at that) if we are to regain respect, former glory and Premier league status.

Only with lower wages and a little bit of realism from the fans can football clubs become about football again. That, or managers like Sir Alex Ferguson or Brian Clough to knock some sense into players. The cult of celebrity and idolisation is drawing back on the game and giving it a false direction. Whilst it provides the tabloids with stories and children with dream, it is failing in that it is turning football into a glamorous soup opera. This cannot be of benefit to the game, and its beginning to show. The clubs who can realise this and aim towards playing the game as a sport will benefit, and have Chievo Verona in Italy as an example. Until English footballers are allowed to regain their humanity, the game will continue to produce disgraceful behaviour off the pitch, and unattractive individualism on it. Until the cult of celebrity is broken down, no English national team will deservedly win the World Cup, and no Nottingham Forest team will reach the Premier division.

The views expressed in this article are the writer's opinions and may not reflect those of the LTLF editorship.