BEEN a busy week. In and out of meetings. You know how it is when you are trying to avoid a custodial sentence.

Anyway, I have had little time to consider the nuances of the fitba world though it has been pointed out to me in song, video, opera, small-screen drama and large-screen type that this is the anniversary of England winning the World Cup. Who knew?

It was 50 years ago today –as the Beatles never wrote – that the boys in, er, red smashed the Germans of the West 4-2, rewriting the rules of the game along the way. The subsequent period has been glibly called 50 years of hurt though the history of English football has generally been one of pain and routine humiliation interrupted by that two hours of joy. Like my journalistic career. Without the two hours of joy, obviously.

The narrative of English football is that it was once great and no longer is…and where did it all go wrong? Frankly, England – the national team – has been as successful a franchise as Kentucky Fried Bat. Yup, they won the cup in 66. Yup, they were probably the second best team in the world behind the greatest ever national side in 1970? But the rest of their history?

Gubbed by the USA in 1954 when more Americans played ludo on horseback than Sock Her, routed by the Hungarians in the 1950s, and on the sidelines for the rest of the time, England have been the biggest disappointment since Henry VIII’s marriage guidance classes.

Now, entire theses have been written on the precise reasons for this underachievement. But the reason is simple: the players have not been good enough. Despite England not successfully coming through a World Cup qualifying group from 1962 to 1982 (they were there as hosts in 1966 and holders in 1970), despite repeated evidence that they are not of the level of the perennial contenders, England continues to look for excuses beyond the ability of their players to compete at the highest level.

They say it is the unrelenting nature of the domestic league: but that did not seem to hamper those chaps from Iceland, Wales, Germany, Northern Ireland and Lower soddin’ Silesia who play in the EPL and for their national team.

They say it is because too many foreigners play in their league: but it was hardly exotic in the 1970s when their failure to qualify was consistent.

They say it is because the players have too heavy a burden to carry: this, though, is simply part of being a winner. It is akin to saying that England would win a World Cup if only the players could kick a ball.

And here, one comes to the nub of the argument. English players have been grossly overrated by a compliant media and a besotted, deluded fan base. This is a country who can without irony dub a generation as golden without the need to frank this with tangible achievement.

This is a country that can casually name Steven Gerrard as the best Liverpool player ever when there are five Scots (at least) who were better than him at the club. This is the country where Wayne Rooney can be named a world-class player when it is obvious to even his mum that he is merely very good.

There thus has to be a recognition of limitation before any progress can be made, far less a repeat of the World Cup of 1966. It is to this end that I unreservedly welcome the appointment of Sam Allor nothing as the next England scapegoat, sorry, manager.

Big Spam will bring an appreciation of just what he has at his disposal. English players play in the English Premier League. They are thus as worldly as the No.66 to Auchenshuggle. They are thus as refined as a Wurzel with an Asbo. They have been at the mercy of a series of managers who wittered on about shape without the ball, shape with the ball, shape as an existential concept and Shape as diet yoghurt.

Theythinkitsallardyce will, instead, speak in a language his players will understand. Do not expect Allarovertomyplace to have his centre forward take the corners. Do not expect his players to natter on about a fluid 4-3-3 that will morph into a 4-1-4-1 except when the opposing left-back is tucking in and then it will become a 4-2-3-1.

But do expect them to know where they are playing and what they should be doing. Do expect those who do not fill these basic requirements to be discarded like a piece of Big Sam chewing gum. And do expect the new England manager to employ, erm, traditional values. Centre halves will be expected to kick the way they are facing, strikers will be asked to leave a dent with their head on the ball (and perhaps on their opponents) and goalkeepers will be required to save shots, which should be bad news for Joe Hart.

But Alltheprettyhorsesdyce should not be underestimated as he confronts the underachievers. He knows how to survive, even prosper with limited resources. He knows the value of hard work and detail. He knows how to employ good players and is not afraid of flair, in the right place and at the right time.

He may not be Sir Alf. But Big Sam may be more than enough.