Keith Duggan Sideline Cut

In New York this week, the sporting name on everyone's lips is a young tattooed basketball player from Coney Island named Stephon Marbury. A teenage cult hero from his ghetto heroics with Lincoln High School - chronicled in one of the best books on basketball ever written, Last Shot - the tattooed and teak-tough Marbury spent the first seven years of his NBA life chasing personal scores and stinking-rich contracts.

But in what was one of most audacious sporting trades of modern times, Isiah Thomas, the new president of the New York Knicks, brought the city boy back home. In his first night on the job, Thomas watched the apathetic and scandalously over-paid Knicks flounder through yet another losing game at Madison Square Garden. The crowds had barely left the auditorium when Thomas got on the phone.

Conducting business in a fashion slick even by New York standards, he managed to land Marbury in return for almost half his roster and two future top college picks that the Knicks are entitled to. Just like that, the woebegone Knicks are the talk of the town and the city has a genuine born-and-bred street legend to revitalise the drive for their first NBA championship since the relatively prehistoric summer of 1973.

They will never hear of each other, of course, but you sense Isiah Thomas and Alex Ferguson would understand each other - in ethos if not in dialect. Ferguson's coup de maitre involving the free acquisition of Liam Miller has created the same sense of excitement and disbelief and outrage in this country. Manchester United have a massive fan base here and it seems just about everybody professes some affinity with the Hoops, so the Miller deal is bound to have been the discussion of choice in taxis all over Ireland for the past 48 hours.

The suddenness, the irrevocability of Miller's leaving Glasgow, the injustice of a club as bloated and powerful as United obtaining free gratis the services of a young player so patiently and agonisingly schooled by Celtic, seems simultaneously unfair and admirable. There is a bold brilliance to the move on Ferguson's part, an unapologetic aggression and perseverance that demonstrate that, however curdled the old Scot becomes, he still sleeps with one eye open. Love him or loathe him, you have to acknowledge he is a canny old bastard. If it is true he was seduced by Miller's early promise as far back as last summer's US tournament, than Celtic were crazy not to do everything to safeguard their prize.

United's wooing of Miller - from Ferguson's appearance at Parkhead to watch their Champions League game against Anderlecht to the formal invitation to the Cork lad to come down to Manchester for a look around on his day off - was so brazen it seems wrong. When the most famous football club in the world lays on the hard charm, little can be done to negate that.

From United's perspective, the signing of Miller represents one of Ferguson's finest administrative hours. If the midfielder establishes himself, as is widely predicted, as heir apparent to Roy Keane, then the deal will be spoken about in the same way as the purchase of Eric Cantona. If Miller fails to cut it for the club, United will not be as loose as Celtic with the paperwork and he will be moved on as unceremoniously as Seba Veron for a handsome profit.

For Miller himself, the transfer is the stuff of both daydreams and restless nights. Just two seasons ago, he was rooted to the bench at Parkhead or trying to impress the hyper-busy Martin O'Neill in reserve games. Now he is being touted as the future at Old Trafford. In sport, fortunes shift fast and randomly. Compare Miller's situation with that of Colin Healy, Celtic's other bright young Irish prospect.

The argument that Miller should have had the discipline to remain at Celtic are compelling. Introduced to the top flight with typical caution by O'Neill, he displayed the flair true of all naturals in that he shone during choice hours. He demanded notice and must have taken even O'Neill aback with his conviction. Yes, at Celtic he would certainly have been groomed as the new midfield general. He would have been guaranteed games and, sooner rather than later, Celtic's very game plan might have been channelled through him. And he would have clocked up experience quickly.

But he was right to leave. Turning down the opportunity to join United was a decision he might have long regretted. Ferguson doesn't ring twice unless your name is van Nistelrooy.

It is true Miller will meet the toughest competition imaginable as he tries to claim a place in the first team. Roy Keane will extend a warm handshake to his fellow Corkonian, flash his famous smile and maybe even invite the youngster around to his house for spuds. What is certain is that he will run Miller into the ground and barrack and push and goad him from the very first training session they play together.

But Miller could not, in good conscience pass up the opportunity to go to United on the grounds that it presented itself too early. To do so would have been an admission that he could not compete at the highest level and might have irreparably damaged his most valuable possession, self-confidence.

For Brian Kerr and Ireland, the news augurs well, strengthening the Irish nucleus at Old Trafford and exposing Miller to the highest levels of professionalism and ambition. Whether it will work out as we all hope for Miller remains to be seen.

But the casual way United picked up Miller reflects how radically the scales have tipped in British football. Miller is a luxury for Ferguson and United; his presence boosts their frighteningly rich squad, but they are not dependent on him making it. Celtic possibly were and Miller's flight may hasten Martin O'Neill's conclusion that life in the SPL carries finite possibility.

But then, so does life at most clubs. The sideline at Anfield is the place where most expect Martin O'Neill to next exhibit his tremendous flair for lateral jumping. Yet Liverpool appear perilously close to lapsing into perpetual mediocrity. Not so long ago, they would have been far-sighted and attractive enough to at least be in the running for Miller's signature. Instead, they are wading through another mediocre season.

United are where it's at in British football. So what if they wrecked Celtic's medium-term future with their clever seduction of a young player simply because, in the words of Gordon Gekko, it was wreckable? United burn brightest. A young kid with talent and ambition would be mad not to go when they whistle.

Way over in New York Stephon Marbury has played two and lost two and the booing has started in earnest.