The unlikely lads

BY the time you read this, David Beckham should have made his much-hyped comeback for England against Brazil at Wembley last night and you will know whether it was (a) the greatest resurrection since Lazarus or (b) the most pointless second coming since The Eagles got back together.

From the perspective of this column, it doesn’t matter either way and not least because, assuming Becks didn’t suffer a hairline fracture of the hairline in a manly embrace with Kaka, it won’t be until next week’s Euro qualifier against Estonia that we’ll really know if Steve McLaren’s apparently desperate gamble has paid off. No, for the purposes of this morning’s epistle, all that really matters is that David Beckham answered his country’s call — and for that we salute him.

Praise for Becks? Whatever next? Well, brace yourselves, my submission for Most Unlikely Sentence Of The Year is coming up: in contemplating David Beckham, I can’t help but find myself thinking also of our own Kevin Moran. (Brief pause to allow my devoted readers — Sid and Doris Bonkers — a moment to compose themselves).