England and Scotland are separated by only 96 miles of border but, as play ended in the Euro 2008 qualification rounds, the difference in attitude among soccer fans on either side of the line is light years apart.

The Scots fell at the last hurdle, a controversial 2-1 loss to Italy that robbed them of qualification after a 12-game series that included two famous 1-0 wins over France. The term most commonly used to describe this latest near miss was Glorious Failure. And some comfort can be taken in that.

Initially disappointed at the final whistle of their last game, Scottish fans soon found themselves lifting their heads and smiling again, realizing that an exciting rebirth in Scottish soccer was unfolding before their disbelieving eyes.

Manager Alex McLeish, building on a stout program begun by Walter Smith, forged a group of promising individuals into a strong unit, earning universal praise for taking a small nation so close to the summit of European soccer.

Players like Alan Hutton and James McFadden or goalie Craig Gordon, have emerged from the qualifying round with soaring reputations and there's renewed interest from top clubs in Britain and Europe about what Scottish players have to offer.

Although England came equally close - one point would have put either side through - the contrast in emotions and expectations couldn't be more distinct. The English, losing at home 3-2 to Croatia, have failed miserably, if the reaction of their fans and media are anything to go by.

Manager Steve McClaren, under a barrage of criticism from Day 1, was fired immediately after and the general sense is that this is a soccer program in serious trouble. It not only needs to find a new manager, it also needs to find players who can cope with the intense pressure of playing for England.

Ironically, the previous manager, Sven-Goran Eriksson, who was also chased out of his job under similar circumstances, has proved again what an astute manager he is by immediately taking unfancied Manchester City into a top five place in the standings.

McClaren had shown himself to be a capable manager before the England job by taking Middlesborough to the UEFA Cup finals. But the England job is steadily proving to be an unmanageable task and anyone who takes on the responsibility as manager will find the burden of expectation from England's ravenous fans to be a crushing load.

The new manager will also have to cope with a player pool that looks to be in need of either a serious clearing out or a fresh approach to drawing the best from the remarkable level of talent available to choose from.

Given that most of the players likely to be selected for England's national team are already well rewarded financially by their clubs, it will take someone with a masterful touch to get the next England squad properly motivated and committed to winning.

Somehow, that manager will have to find a way to match the small-country attitude that has seen teams like Scotland and Croatia build tight, cohesive teams full of committed, selfless players.

But when one considers that the money paid to players by Premiership clubs helps to soften the blow of national team failure, it's a challenging task that no England manager may ever achieve.

North American fans should take heart in the performances of smaller nations like Scotland and Croatia. As soccer remains a minor sport in North America, it's fairer to compare what's going on within the US or Canadian programs with the smaller European nations than with powerhouses like Italy, Spain or Germany.

Americans have always had an ability to extract maximum sporting benefit from lesser resources due to an ability to focus the use of those resources. Add to that the growth in size and quality of MLS soccer and many of the key ingredients are coming together to support this premise:

Both Canada and the United States, a rivalry not unlike Scotland-England,  have every reason to be ambitious in the coming years. For Canada, just getting to a second World Cup would be achievement enough in the short term.

But the growing popularity of the game, larger numbers of players to work with and a bigger , soccer-savvy business base to draw financial support from give the United States a clear edge,

Enough of one to justify saying that America will win its first World Cup before England wins its second. 

You can forgive Spanish soccer fans if they've been led to believe another King Kong movie is about to be filmed soon in Madrid. For looming over the fabled Estadio Santiago Bernabeu, home of Real Madrid, with the power to rattle it to its foundations, is the game's proverbial 800-pound ####.

Why, Arsene Wenger, of course.

Dapper, suave, urbane and accomplished, he could well be Mr. Eligible soon if the boardroom battles at Arsenal aren't resolved to his liking.

With recent news that Arsenal's board are well pleased with the club's improved economic performance despite the heavy debt created by building Emirates Stadium, it looks like the determined takeover bid by American investor Stan Kroenke is facing ever-stiffening resistance, putting a damper on the return of exiled Wenger board ally David Dein.  

An early resolution would best serve the club in it's efforts to get Wenger to renew his contract before it expires at season's end. Should that war of wills and egos, which goaded star striker Thierry Henry into leaving for Barcelona, become an even more drawn-out affair, who could fault Wenger for saying au revoir, Arsenal.

The uncertainty and speculation created by this high-level showdown - will Cesc Fabregas be lured home and join Henry? Will Wenger supplant Barcelona manager Frank Rijkaard? - has led some to cheekily refer to the north London club as Barce-nal.

However, the situation at Real Madrid is one that has to tempt Wenger.

Unlike the financially-prudent but competitively-challenged Arsenal, Real is a team of unlimited wealth already well built to defend the Spanish title it holds, comfortably awaiting the group stage of Champions League play. And it's desperate to put the safe, efficient playing style of ex-manager Fabio Capello behind it and return to a more artistic approach. 

Who better, then, to do that than Wenger? He's a manager whose spurned national team opportunities in favour of running a club because a club gives him "more clay" with which to mould a playing style true to his vision.  

He's spent a decade making his Arsenal teams into a showcase for the sort of swift, flowing game the Madrilenos are craving to see again. Real's title success was an unexpected surprise and no one who supports them could be disappointed by it. But a single season of Capello's grim, grey grinding had sapped everyone's patience.

Of course, patience is hardly synonymous with Real. Since sacking Vicente Del Bosque in 2003, the team has gone through managers like grain through a goose. Their next hiring will be their seventh manager in five years.

It can't be a coincidence that, until this latest, unlikely, title, the team had gone trophyless in that time of managerial turmoil

It's a club craving stability. It's a club craving artistic success. Not many men can deliver that. Until Wenger settles his immediate future, not many may be able to do so.

Bernd Schuster, the current coach of Getafe, a plucky suburban Madrid side, had that flair on the field as a player, winning one La Liga title with Barcelona and two with Real. He's rumoured to be the front runner for Real's top job, but you have to think that he'd run a distant second if Wenger's name was in the race.

You also have to think that if he were named as Real's manager tomorrow and Wenger was to stoically see out his contract with Arsenal next season to become a free agent, it would only serve to fuel further rumours for the coming season.

Schuster and Real would be doomed to a year of endless speculation and uncertainty. Schuster's failure could be a foregone conclusion as the potential acquisition of star players may well hinge on Wenger's decision.

Madrid's already suffered a little quiver with the departure of Atletico's Fernando Torres. The next big rumble won't be its marvelous Metro rolling under foot. It'll be the impact of Arsene Wenger's next big decision.

Brace yourselves. 

Poised to end a turbulent time at Real Madrid by winning a championship, David Beckham prepares to depart the grand stage of European soccer in the best way possible - leaving them wanting more.

It's a departure that will vastly overshadow the quieter and more dignified Bernabeu exit of teammate Roberto Carlos, the stellar Brazilian left back whose thunderous left foot has produced some of the game's finest long-range goals.

And it's a departure in style and tone from the soap-opera mayhem that now engulfs Thierry Henry, as speculation wildly swirls about his playing intentions for the coming season. Boardroom sparring and a media-fuelled fire has begun to consume the dignity that embodied Arsenal's gifted striker, it's elegant manager Arsene Wenger, and even the club itself.

Admittedly, the announcement that Beckham was leaving Real Madrid for L.A. Galaxy came amid a similar media circus to that surrounding Henry today. But Beckham has shown a master's touch in handling a tricky situation that could have left himself and Real Madrid surrounded by wreckage. Henry and his prickly agent could take a lesson.

After a tearful ending to the 2006 World Cup and the apparent conclusion of his days playing for England, an awkward start to the current season for both player and club had delivered Beckham to the low point of his career. His decision to move to America was met with widespread derision and scorn, with some of the worst comments coming from Real president Ramon Calderon. Real manager Fabio Capello gravely announced that Beckham would never play for the club again.

Despite an ability to be as manipulative with the media as any sports or showbiz star, Beckham never rose to the bait. He simply returned to the place where he surely must be most at ease, the training ground, and continued to be a complete professional by preparing himself for a possible return to the playing field, should the opportunity arise. And he did it quietly and earnestly.

No one knows a player like teammates do. They see the work put in on the training ground, they know the quality of a character through daily contact in the change room.

It gives them the keenest insight into what that player can offer on the playing field and if it's talent that can't be matched by a replacement, or even a change in tactics, it's not going to sit well with them for long. Especially a team with the pedigree and expectations of Real Madrid.

It spoke volumes when their immedate reaction to the statements from Calderon and Capello was one of total support for Beckham. They wanted him back.

Beckham's eventual return sparked Real on a drive to the top that should end this weekend with yet another Spanish league championship and this could be one of the more storied titles Spain's greatest club has ever earned. That run also forced England manager Steve McLaren to think again and Beckham's re-instatement to the England midfield has revived his country's chances of qualifying for the 2008 European championships.

Throughout the process, Beckham has refused to gloat or speak ill of anyone who misjudged him or his abilities. He's let his play do the talking and once again the highlight reels are filled with goals created by his tantalizing delivery of the ball.

Again, the strongest endorsement he could receive is that of teammates, as prominent England players, such as captain John Terry, have had nothing but the highest praise for his attitude and his play. Terry has vowed to return the captain's armband to Beckham when he plays his 100th career game for England, something that could happen in October or November.

Which means his impending transfer to the L.A. Galaxy is now one of the world's most eagerly anticipated sports events. He's made the step across the Atlantic a short one indeed, arriving still at the top of his game, with some of Europe's most prestigious clubs clamouring for him to reconsider.

 He won't play in front of an empty seat throughout his abbreviated Major League Soccer season and, considering the time he's had off earlier this season while recuperating from injuries, he should still be feeling fresh and energetic. Motivation under these circumstances will not be an issue. This is a man at ease under the hottest of spotlights.

Really, the only concerns facing his arrival involve his new club and the league it plays in.

 Will Beckham's arrival be enough to rescue the Galaxy from their poor start to the season? And will his involvement with England hamper the club at a critical stage in the late season, or possibly in the playoffs?  It's a valid concern given the fact that Beckham could become only the third player to reach 100 games for England late this fall, when playoff concerns could become paramount for the Galaxy.

And will MLS be able to retain some sensibility in the early stages of Beckham's MLS career? It's going to give the league it's highest-ever global profile. Can they resist the giddy temptation to abandon a salary cap and allow the sort of wild spending that brought the demise of the late, lamented North American Soccer League?

All in all, nice problems for MLS to have. Beckham will arrive with his image restored, his dignity intact and a world eager to watch what he will do next. We're in for a treat.

As we stood among an anxious, hoarse throng waiting for Toronto FC to set up a final corner kick, my neighbour turned and said, "Hey, Toronto might be the first team to have it's first-ever goal scored by a goalie."

An interesting and timely observation, in light of two recent goals scored by European keepers - Paul Robinson of Tottenham Hotspur and Andres Palop of Sevilla. Seeing Toronto's lanky Greg Sutton arrive at the top of the Kansas City box, we wondered if history was in the making.

But the corner kick was cleared away, the final whistle blew and the likelihood remains that Toronto's first MLS goal will come in more orthodox fashion, probably less of an embarassment for all concerned.

The observant neighbour is my friend, Vanooch, a title created by dropping the vowel from the final three syllables of his Italian surname. 'Noochi was too much like Gucci, not really him. His countrymen often do that with their first names - Enzo, Renzo, Cenzo, etc. - so I did it with his surname.

We've shared many soccer sojourns the past few years, our boys growing up in our downtown neighbourhood, opponents in house league, teammates on competitive squads. Mine, a tall, two-footed left or right back, his, a darting striker in the mold of an Inzaghi or a Rossi, a right-footed stiletto. They were with us on opening day.

Vanooch figured to be the perfect seatmate for the four season seats I secured before Beckham's transfer announcement triggered a ticket-buying stampede, selling out the stadium for the year and creating a waiting list already two years long.

I heard him before I ever met him, an Abruzzi accent ringing out instructions or booming in goal celebrations from the sideline of an under-7 game one night. He only quieted down when his son's coach asked if he could be allowed to coach the team his way.

He's been lke that for each of the eight years since, an unofficial manager's assistant or referee's 'helper', the only man I've seen get red-carded as a volunteer linesman, for defying orders not to coach while carrying a flag.

He made himself a welcome sight at practices on cool, wet spring mornings, hauling a hamper with a stack of paper cups and carafes of dark, sweet espresso coffee. That recipe would get an octane boost at tournaments when he'd spike it with Italian grappa liqueur and have us all fired up.

And as soccer dads got into animated soccer discussions about international events, you could count on detailed, up-to-the-minute info on Serie A matters and how it all pertained to his beloved AC Milan. He still expects the prodigal striker, Andriy Shevchenko, to escape along the Hernan Crespo trail and return from Chelsea. Any day now.

Owning season tickets for the first time, I wanted the whole rowdy fan experience - the cheering, chanting and singing - and a manic sidekick to join me in tranforming tepid Torontonians into scarf-twirling tifosi. Vanooch had the track record to make him an automatic choice.

So it was something of a shock when the Campobasso Cannon went quiet at kickoff and stayed that way through much of the match. But his eyes were firmly fixed on the details, picking out flaws in certain players' games, debating tactics, deploring unforced errors and accurately forecasting in the first ten minutes that U.S. natonal team striker Eddie Johnson would eventually beat Toronto's defence with his quickness.An hour later, he was right.

I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this. If he wants to be serious, we can always record the game telecasts and study the details later. But I want the real Vanooch for company. Our section underperformed in its first game. They need us.

The way I see it, there's only two ways to bring out the soccer animal  in him.

In the good old days of NASL, we used to have one of our buddies bring a couple of wineskins to the back of the stadium. When we got in, we'd take a long string out, throw it over the railing, haul them up and enjoy a little refreshment at our leisure.

Maybe Mrs. Vanooch could bring a thermos of their high-octane espresso to the back of our section and I'll haul it up.

Or his son's just gonna have to make the team. Soon.