THERE is a distinctly Caledonian reaction from those who surrounded the top-class player in his early years. It is this: “His brother was a better player.”

Does it happen elsewhere? I wonder if in Madeira they say that Ronaldo may be good but his brother, Brian, was the best player in the family. Or in Argentina do they insist that Gavin Messi was the top man? Or even, and I may have taken this too far, is Scott Allan’s brother (presumably called Alan) better than the Hibs midfielder?

The insistence that brother was better is accompanied by the aside that that said sibling did not have the drive or will of his successful brother. This is the equivalent of saying that Churchill would have been a great footballer if only he was capable of kicking a ball.

Drive, will, desperation to succeed – call it what you want – is not just an added extra in the professional footballer. It is what raises them to the highest level. It is what marks a stirring and informative biography of Diego Costa with an emphasis worthy of a Stirling and District Amateur League centre-half.

Yup, Diego had a brother, Jair, who was considered better than him. But it is Diego who earns millions at Chelsea. It is instructive to note that this will to win did not preclude Diego from eating too much or staying out too long in his younger days. The rambunctious biography shows Diego is so much of a card he could be dealt rather than merely selected.

But he had something inside him that drove him to the top. Physically he is strong, mentally he was resilient and eerily determined. These traits could combine to make him overly aggressive. He has been booked more often than the town hall wedding suite. He was also loaned out more than the library copy of Fifty Shades of Grey. His early days at Atletico Madrid saw him sent out to a succession of sides.

But he survived, indeed prospered, because he was the whole package. He had the touch, the aggression and the belief. He had the will.

The lower levels of football are populated with those who either only have the talent or only have the will. This is like having Wise without Morecombe. Or having Ant and Dec. It is not enough.

The psychopathic, bullet-headed centre half in Sunday league has more will than the executors’ department of a large solicitors. But said stopper has the touch and elan of a giraffe with one leg shorter than the other. Deep in his core, the stopper recognises this and that makes him as dangerous as a drugged chimp with an AK47 with the safety off.

There is nothing more calculated to raise the bile than knowing one cannot be excellent at something one loves. This breeds a resignation in the more philosophical and an aggression in the less enlightened. Unfortunately for generations of strikers, it is the latter case who tend to play No.5 in Sunday fitba’.

Alternatively there are those in the minor leagues who can play. But many lack the will to progress. Some do not want to make the sacrifices. Some are inhibited by family circumstances that mean that healthy living or thinking is almost unnatural. But there is undoubtedly skill on the public parks. I once played with a midfielder who had a left-foot that was more flexible than a Swiss Army knife. His left foot could hot-wire a car, perform neurosurgery and thread through a precise pass. Unfortunately, his right hand could drop an elephant, open a screwtap and write a bookies line all at the same time.

The untalented strivers and the talented non-striver can all reach a level but it is always below the very top.

And there is something more than is required to be a Diego Costa. It is this: luck. Now Cristiano and Lionel need less of this quality than anyone else but they know that injury could have stopped or curtailed their career. Lionel can also say a silent prayer to growth hormones.

Costa’s career was ignited when Atletico sold a player to Benfica and he was left as one of the designated non-EU players. He took that chance to become a top-class striker. He moulded his game, refined his skills and developed technique and an awareness of positioning. But, crucially, he retained his aggression. His first meeting with his Chelsea team-mates was fascinating. He enlisted the likes of John Terry and others. His message was: "Let us go to war together.”

They did. Costa’s goals helped win a title but there was no lessening in his aggression. He came to England to win matches not to make pals.

He has been blessed with luck and bestowed with talent. But the boy from Brazil has been armed with something that can only be developed from within. He does not only survive the battle but enjoys, indeed invites it.

There are stories in the biography that show Diego as the fun-loving sort who steals his team-mates’ clothes or indulges in the trivial dressing-room japes that are played out daily across continents.

But when it comes to the match, Diego Costa is as serious as sharing a telephone box with a tiger. The best ones always are.

Diego Costa: The Art of War by Fran Guillen is out now in paperback and ebook, published by Backpage Press/Arena Sport at £9.99