When did it become Wayne's world?

THE World Cup is still six weeks away, but all over England yesterday grown men were crying into their Bank Holiday pints. It was as if some malevolent killjoy had gained access to the water supply and slipped in a depressant.

The cause of this collective grief was nothing more than the injury concerns of a young footballer. In Wayne Rooney, England has produced a potential world-beater, without whom, runs the universal view, England are destined to struggle.

To win the World Cup in Germany this summer, England will probably have to beat Brazil, so without Rooney there is very little point even turning up. That, at least, seemed to be the sad application of logic that saw the cloud of doom and gloom descend. After conflicting reports about the seriousness of Rooney's injury, it was just before quarter past six when his club manager Sir Alex Ferguson appeared to administer the coup de grace - by announcing that he thought Rooney would play no part in the tournament.

He told the Manchester United website: "You never know, but at the moment I doubt that he'll take part because of the recovery time." Sir Alex, a proud Scot, said he believed Rooney's absence will be a "crippling blow" to England's chances of success in Germany.

Earlier, radio stations were swamped by callers articulating their desperation after medical experts predicted Rooney's recovery would take at least six weeks - the time period before England's opening game - with strengthening work required after that. It would be a healing of freakish speed if he were to play in the opening games. The news was received like a shot to the heart and the outside observer has every right to be baffled. How can a nation so proud of its place in the world sink into a pit of despondency because a 20-year-old breaks a metatarsal bone in his foot?

The Rooney phenomenon is a wonder of our time. Today's television adverts enjoy making superstar footballers look silly, and the latest to do so features a training session at Manchester United. Sir Alex has instructed Rooney to play in goal, presumably because of some stroppy misdemeanour. The striker, in tracksuit trousers, thrusts himself into the job, making some good saves and seemingly accepting his lot before suddenly abandoning his post. He throws the ball out, gets it back and dribbles around a few defenders before smashing home a wonder goal. He tries in vain to get back in goal as the other team attacks, but the ball creeps over the line and he ends up sprawled in the net. Sir Alex can only laugh at this expression of youthful exuberance, which seems to illustrate perfectly the fact that scoring goals is Rooney's life. But what has become clear is that Rooney scoring goals constitutes many other peoples' lives, too.

Compared to players so feted in the past, Rooney is an unusual case. He is not a pin-up like Kevin Keegan once was, nor a party pinball like George Best. Nor does he seek the glamour that goes with wealth and fame, like David Beckham does. Even among the present England team he is the ugly duckling. A wide-boy from a tough part of Liverpool whose life - quite literally - is football, Rooney's feet don't seem to fit in the same shoes as those who treat the game like a catwalk. Yet here he is, putting his feet up on the coffee table while 45 million dwell on them as a conversation point.

Rooney was born in Croxteth in 1985. He was perhaps too young, at eight months, to rejoice when Gary Lineker won the World Cup's Golden Boot in Mexico, but it wasn't long before he became immersed in the game. At nine, playing for Copplehouse Boys Club, he was spotted by Bob Pendleton, a scout from Everton, and signed schoolboy forms with the Premiership club.

It was at Goodison Park that Rooney matured with great speed from a child prodigy into a grown man capable of putting that talent to use. He made his Premiership debut at 16, becoming Everton's youngest player, and it was abundantly clear he was ready for anything. Rooney alerted the country to his presence with a spectacular winner against Arsenal. Everton knew, in the modern game, he was too hot for a moderately large club to handle. He belonged in an amphitheatre. After becoming the youngest player to represent and score for his country, Rooney belted four goals at the European Championships in 2004. At Goodison, the game was up. Manchester United came along with an offer of 20 million, plus 7 million dependent on future achievements.

Rooney was not yet 19 but was made a millionaire overnight. Nearly two years on, he has 29 England caps and 11 goals to his name, and his financial stats are just as impressive. Rooney was placed equal 22nd in the Sunday Times Rich List for under-30s, with an estimated fortune of 20 million. That figure will only grow, whether he features in Germany this summer or not, because his income from endorsements is guaranteed years in advance and his earnings from football will also swell.

The German consultancy firm BBDO recently valued the Rooney "brand" at 30 million. The player's equipment deal with Nike is worth 5 million over ten years. He has a 1 million deal with Coca-Cola and another worth 3 million with Electronic Arts, which makes computer games. He and his girlfriend, Coleen, share a 3 million tie-up with Asda that gives the supermarket a monopoly on the family's groceries until 2008. As a high-earning couple, Wayne and Coleen will almost certainly leave Posh and Becks in the dust.

In most cases, these seven-figure pots of gold can be collected by Rooney appearing in adverts, signing away image rights and resisting offers from competitors. That is because those companies don't require him to actually play. A slightly different philosophy applies to his arrangement with Nike: the shoe manufacturer is interested only in exposure of its product. The US giant's executives won't be very chuffed if Sven-Goran Eriksson, the England coach, gives up on Rooney's chances of making the World Cup, where TV audiences will be in the billions. The Swede will be under pressure as he considers the Rooney dilemma. On top of his basic obligation to play the best possible team, he will no doubt be leant on by FA officials, as well as by corporate heavies and knowing sports columnists.

It's not that the inclusion of Rooney in the World Cup squad of 23 would limit the coach's options, just that it would force him to discuss the boy's condition on an hourly, let alone daily basis.

Rooney's only target is to recover fast and hope he gets a leap of faith and a boarding pass for Frankfurt. It is unlikely he had planned a contingency holiday for June and July, just as it is unlikely he will have considered what he would do if he ever has to retire through injury. He has great skill and a creative football brain, but at heart he is a simple player. Head down, run at goal and smash the ball as hard as you can between the sticks. Few have ever been so effective at it, which is presumably why England is so enamoured with him. What he lacks in charisma and star appeal, he makes up for with a childlike love of running and kicking a ball.

For those of us observing all things English from the fence, this could be a very tedious few weeks. The metatarsal debate surrounding Beckham ahead of the 2002 World Cup was repetitive enough. There simply aren't enough words in the dictionary to illustrate the importance (or otherwise) of a foot.

As the saga unfolds it will at least be interesting to view what dominates: Manchester United will be very interested in the long-term condition of the bone; Nike will be obsessed by the coloured stripes on the leather.

Only last week Rooney modelled his new boot, the Nike Air Zoom Total 90 Supremacy. Yet the first time he wore the shiny slippers in a match, he broke his foot. Even Rooney may be muttering that every silver lining has a cloud.

Move over, Posh

WAYNE ROONEY'S fiance, Coleen McLoughlin was first introduced to the world in a paparazzi shot of a shy 16-year-old in her school uniform, and quickly graduated to Juicy Couture tracksuits, garish hair extensions and Ugg boots.

Famous for not much more than being a serial shopper and the kind of girl who stands by her man through his various indiscretions, her lurid ensembles and fake tan earned her the sobriquet "queen of chavs" in the tabloids.

However, after modelling for the cover of British Vogue, she embraced a more tasteful look, favouring grown-up labels such as Lanvin, Chlo and Missoni, and mixing them with high-street finds - putting her on the best-dressed lists.

Her marketability as a glamorous girl-next-door has reportedly earned her 5 million. How does she spend her time and money? Largely in Cricket, a Liverpool designer boutique, and Harvey Nichols in Manchester, where she has a personal shopper. She wears a 20,000 Rolex watch and carries the obligatory cute dog, a chow-chow called Fizz.

So fond of shopping is Coleen that she paid a reported 3,000 Customs fine in October 2004 for failing to declare thousands of pounds worth of purchases after a spree in New York.

Happy to poke fun at her reputation, Coleen laughed when the cake at her 20th birthday party came decorated with images of handbags: Louis Vuitton, Gucci and Mulberry were all there, but the biggest one was her favourite from Primark.