As Paul Scholes brought the Eiffel Tower that is Patrick Vieira crashing to the ground early in the second half, earning his obligatory yellow card, the garrulous Sir Bobby Robson made what might turn out to be his most insightful comment of Euro 2004: "He quite enjoyed that." Put that attitude together with his sharp-eyed passing in the early stages, and you have the reason why Scholes should be in the team for the rest of England ’s tournament.
Scholes’s critics, however, will find succour from the yellow card and the shot ballooned over the bar and the fact that he never seemed to be in his position on the left side of midfield (except of course that is not his position). Despite substituting him after 75 minutes against France, Sven-Göran Eriksson insisted last week that it had never entered his head to leave Scholes out of an England team. But dropping Scholes has more than crossed the mind of many others lately — including the Manchester United midfield player himself.
On this at least, Eriksson has been right all along. Despite forgetting how to score in internationals (it’s only three years, give him a chance), Scholes remains England’s most technically gifted creative midfield player. Without him England, like United, could be left looking predictable, safe and sterile. To drop Scholes would be to admit defeat, to say that we cannot compete with the continentals for touch or finesse, and must revert to the traditional English virtues of huffing and puffing.
Not that Scholes is short on fighting spirit either. The relish with which he looked forward to crossing boots with France’s Arsenal contingent made a welcome break from the phoney diplomacy. Scholes is the antithesis of the celebrity footballer — the working-class hero who is nobody’s idea of a role model (except perhaps Sir Alex Ferguson’s), the star whose haircut has never made the front page, the man with nothing to say who manages to be less boring than players who won’t shut up about themselves.
Scholes is from Salford, as is my wife. When I go out for a drink with the in-laws, I see lots of lads who look like Scholes in Eccles pubs, usually with a bloke who looks like Nicky Butt. Do not annoy them. The quiet ones, as they say, are the worst.'