Emile the defective no longer

Sometimes a cartoon says it all. Yesterday morning, one in a rival publication had a footballer in the distance scooping the ball at an angle more appropriate for Jonny Wilkinson's boot high over the bar. "Oh, no, Heskey's kicked the ball into Switzerland," reflected a forlorn-looking spectator. You had to smile, reflecting as it did the commonly-held perception of a player who has somehow managed to accrue countless caps while withstanding constant assaults on his capabilities.

The recipient of such cruelty might have appreciated the humour, though whether the tabloid headline, "Heskey is England's worst ever striker", on the basis that his average of 0.12 goals a game is bettered by all 18 centre-forwards who have won 30 or more caps since England began playing internationals in 1872, would have appealed to him is quite another matter. Four goals from 31 caps, the last against Denmark in the World Cup: it doesn't make for pleasant reading, although his advocates – and among the most vociferous is England coach Sven Goran Eriksson – would contend that his contribution is far greater than might be anticipated from a muscular 6ft 2in forward.

Chide him as you will, the Anfield anvil is nothing if not durable; he accepts all that is directed at him on that broad chest of his and brushes it away without demur. There was never any doubt that the England manager would name him again in a contest which promised cheap goals for any out-of-sorts striker.

As we may have predicted, Heskey's goal statistics were not enhanced. Yet he does all that Eriksson expects of him. He fashioned the breakthrough goal for Michael Owen when things were beginning to become somewhat fraught. He won the free-kick which produced another for David Beckham. And despite a nasty kick on the knee which impaired his performance and eventually caused his departure – Wayne Rooney replaced him after 79min 10sec to claim his first competitive cap – he remained an irritation to the opposition.

The fervent belief of many, both within and outside the game, is that Heskey is merely occupying the second striker's role until the young pretender from across Stanley Park has developed sufficiently, although Rooney has risen through the ranks so swiftly his promotion to automatic starter may not be that distant.

The theory is that if England are to fulfil expectations and become a power once again capable of contesting European and world finals Rooney needs to come swiftly to fruition as an international-class forward because you don't see that quality in Darius Vassell or Francis Jeffers, England's substitutes here, although Alan Smith, rather surprisingly omitted from the squad (though he was suspended yesterday), could yet progress.

But in a first half in which England made their hosts appear decidedly more accomplished than their Fifa ranking of 152nd, we saw why Eriksson places so much faith in the herculean figure. Heskey was at his most authoritative when he marauded down the right, as England constantly switched positions to expose Leichtenstein's frailties. Peter Jehle, the ever-watchful goalkeeper who plays his club football for Grasshoppers Zurich, intervened before Owen could profit. Undeterred, Heskey produced something similar just before the half hour, and this time Owen leapt with precision to head his 20th international goal.

The issue of his assistant, though, remains as much a problem as that of left midfield, where Kieron Dyer again demonstrated that it is alien to him. He rarely asserted himself and tended to roam into the central areas where Paul Scholes, even on a quiet day, and Steven Gerrard can cope quite nicely, thank you. In the first half, we observed him at his best, and worst, when his pace left four opponents utterly bemused, yet culminated in a pitiful ball straight at the goalkeeper.

England's two goals just about preserved their dignity but earned them precious few plaudits. Eriksson conceded that he was not happy with the start, or the end, of the game but induced looks of incredulity when he submitted: "Leichtenstein are improving year after year. They were very organised, they play good football and have some good players."

Well, it is true that they are far from a bunch of chumps; more than just a collection of plucky plumbers and wily wine-growers. Several are professional players and in Mario Frick, who played in Serie A last year, they boasted an attacker who ensured the visiting defence maintained concentration. But a team of England's stature should not require such excuses for what was essentially another indifferent performance.

Leichtenstein might even have pilfered a goal near the end, their display sending supporters home in contented mood. As their players went to swap shirts, there was a standing ovation from both teams, the friendly spirit of the engagement reflecting the excellent crowd behaviour.

Even with that in mind it would be facile to submit that the 100m exclusion zone round the "national stadium" of this Alpine principality was over-zealous. Only the night before in Zurich, some England followers had brought discredit to the nation once again. Before the game, spectators and media were treated alike as lengthy queues formed, with tickets and passports being solemnly scrutinised before we were all frisked at the police checkpoint. Sadly, "Englishness" is a branding that continues to condemn us all when the national football team are abroad. Now for the Turkey shoot.