I was recently awoken by a text from the esteemed editor of the English Football Post asking for my all-time XI from the English league. It was the first day of the summer holidays (being a teacher does have its benefits) and I’d had a really great weekend so maybe wasn’t thinking straight…

At least that’s the reason I’ll give when asked why I chose a certain newlywed Red in the centre midfield alongside a red (haired) late legend Alan Ball. I still question my decision now, but if anything am pleased I did it.

Steven Gerrard is for many of us, particularly Evertonians, the epitome of what we dislike about Liverpool FC. The arrogance, the lack of personality, attracted to glamour and commercial success, questionable temperament… qualities he seems to share with many of their fans. Perhaps the most galling aspect of his character, and that of the club itself, is that they were both once ‘Everton’ – just as a greedy Scotsman drove the Blues out of Anfield back in 1892 to form the Reds, so Gerrard was more than probably a Blue, at least for a day anyway, as the photo of him with the ’87 trophy shows.

He hasn’t played so well in the last couple of derbies, indeed was childishly sent off the year before and had tears in his eyes as he trudged off the ‘hallowed’ Anfield pitch. However, his presence in my all time team of class is certainly merited, unfortunately. He has developed from I think, a full back of raw promise, to a star performer in most positions, apparently he was even man of the match in a couple of pre-season friendlies last week.

Too often now, so much so that it has become a little predictable, Gerrard is the one who has dragged his underperforming team-mates out of the mire, normally on the big stage, and usually with a moment of brilliance. Our flat was cheering West Ham in 2006 but silenced at the end by that goal. Similarly, a couple of games I only vaguely recall last season at Anfield, Istanbul, Olympiakos etc ad nauseum. He’s even started doing it more regularly for England, I hate to say it, perhaps saving McClaren his job in the Andorra debacle.

What I would do to have someone like that in the centre of our midfield. Love them as I do, Carsley and Neville together only scored a couple of goals last season and don’t expect Jags to trouble many opposing goalkeepers, unless he’s playing in nets himself…

Stevie G as his devotees love to call him (though somewhat unsurprisingly a moniker I despise and find strangely laughable) is the sort of player and maybe even man, lots of young impressionable boys want to be. All-action, bustling, goalscoring hero who never fails to impress it would seem. Personally, I prefer to be a graceful Platini or Zidane, or even a less graceful, but still quite skilful, van der Meyde or James McFadden, when I play 11-a-side, but I can see the appeal nonetheless.

We all love football for many reasons, some of which might simply be because we admire those who can do it a lot better than us. I spend two weeks wages every year on the chance to see some of these players, many of whom are younger than myself, because I would love to be able to do what they can. Some people admittedly pay their money to do the opposite, choosing instead to abuse the individuals, possibly through jealousy or insecurity, it depends who the player is I guess. I’ve done it myself, but am now seeing even the villains who have caused me pain and tears in life, in a different light. Maybe it’s growing up, falling in love, teaching…

I always vow never to get too deep in what I write but it always seems to happen. Unfortunately, no amount of cognitive behavioural therapy can stop me finding links between football and the real life I live. The two are clearly intertwined, but not to the extent I sometimes think. We love something and therefore have to hate whatever comes up against it, particularly if it makes us suffer, but surely we should all be accepting of any footballer who plays the game well, even our heroes might be idiots off the pitch and we might never know it.

And the greatest skill we can show, if not out on the pitch in our beloved shirt, is the maturity and ability to at least respect someone much better at fooball than we (or maybe some of our club’s players) could ever hope to be. Some players respond to being wound up, vilified, harangued, and perform better because of it, their determination pulling them through. If only a crowd could simply ignore the hate figure on the opposition, maybe even applaud them, and see what happens, the romantic in me thinks it would confuse them sufficiently to allow The Best Little Spaniard We Know to waltz through and win us the game.

But anyway Gerrard. I still hate him, and his silly haircut and embarrassing adverts and stupid celebrations, but for some reason am in admiration of most of what he does on the pitch. So I had to put him in the dream team. He is a one-off, and the way the fans love him is quite remarkable, I see it every day with kids at school, and where he’s come from too makes it at least partly inspirational that one day one of the kids I teach can get to the same peak of success and talent. As long as they’ve got a better persona and choose to wear a blue shirt, I’ll be happy, and may even forgive him.

Or maybe not. Altogether now…