On The Premiership:Nothing disperses managerial myopia faster than a dose of adversity. Take Martin Jol: the Tottenham head coach was sifting through the wreckage of his side's recent, wretched derby defeat to Arsenal when he was asked if his players cared enough.
The Dutchman's craggy features contorted into a puzzled grimace.
"Care?" he replied.
His interrogator modified the question: do his "foreign" players - bred outside north London's sporting badlands - care enough?
"Yes they care," Jol said, irritated. "The Premiership belongs to foreigners too, you know."
He is right, of course. The Premiership might be routinely referred to as England's top flight but in truth that is becoming as flagrant a misnomer as American baseball's World Series. It has long been accepted the league's top players and managers are - with a few notable exceptions - foreign. But now, the people and companies who own England's elite clubs are also being imported in record numbers.
Businessmen from Russia, America, Egypt and Iceland already own controlling stakes in Chelsea, Portsmouth, Manchester United, Aston Villa, Fulham and West Ham. Last week, Liverpool - having already courted interest from Thailand - announced they are to be taken over by Dubai International Capital, the investment company owned by Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid al-Maktoum. Then Manchester City - forever trying to keep up with the Joneses - announced they were ripe for new investment, putting the local airport on red alert for swarthy looking tycoons laden with bulging briefcases.
It is all a resounding triumph for the Premiership's spin doctors, who have managed to convince hard-nosed executives from Cleveland to Chutovka that their product is worthy of investment.
Yet their arrival in such droves poses an obvious question: does English football - in its traditional sense, at least - still exist?
Some things will never change. Eggert Magnusson's arrival at West Ham will not make the pie-and-mash sellers in Green Street start flogging reindeer hot dogs. And Scouse street vendors who take over Stanley Park on match days are unlikely to be dishing up mezze when Sheikh Mohammed makes his first trip to Anfield.
But there is no doubt the community spirit and sense of local identity that were once hallmarks of many English clubs have disappeared forever.
Big deal, some might say, especially those fans who have benefited most from the staggering sums being bandied around in the post-Abramovich era. Yet these goggle-eyed few may be snapped out of their reverie when the sugar daddies have grown weary of their new toys, and that might be sooner than expected.
Messrs Glazer, Lerner and Gaydamak bought into the Premiership largely on the basis of its breathless, thrill-a-minute reputation. If Italy's Serie A was the quiet man of Europe, the English league was its louder, brasher cousin: clumsy to a fault, perhaps, but certainly never dull.
Now, however, the domestic elite are stumbling around as if pumped full of sleeping pills. Forget last weekend's (relative) goal-fest: in the first third of the season; Premiership matches averaged just 2.13 goals per game, a figure lagging far behind the other major European leagues. If the trends continue until the end of the season, the Premiership would record just 822 goals, the lowest total by any 20-team league in 10 years.
As the rate of foreign investment in English clubs has spiralled and clubs have stocked up on overseas talent, so the Premiership has inevitably become more stereotypically "European".
Managers now place a far greater emphasis on containment, to the extent that even Manchester City - traditionally one of the top flight's more scatter-gun sides - boast a home defensive record that reads, "played eight, conceded one."
The entertainment levels have shrunk, and the crowds are dwindling with them. City regularly have vast swathes of blue seats on show at Eastlands, despite that formidable home record.
Even the ultra-zealous followers of Newcastle United are losing interest. The shot-shy style of Glenn Roeder's team must appear tame compared to Kevin Keegan's renowned swashbucklers, and the disparity is reflected in the attendance figures. Crowds at St James' Park have regularly dipped below capacity this season: a non-event for most, but headline-grabbing on Tyneside.
It is not all bad news. The Premiership's new-found defensive discipline is reaping spectacular rewards in the Champions League, with all four of its representatives progressing to the knockout stage in February after topping their respective groups.
There is even a chance that, in June, Europe could be treated to an unexpected first: an all-English European cup final.
But if it is, the continent will be shocked to see that the harum-scarum Premiership has lost its sense of self, reduced instead to a replica copy of Serie A at its cagiest.
It may yield trophies, but neither the supporters nor the owners will stomach it for long.
