Sam Allardyce: A profound sadness, as the fleeting hopes of the dismissed England manager are extinguished

There will be a great sense of national mirth and self-vindication, of course, among those who felt that appointing Sam Allardyce was the ultimate indictment of the lumpen world of the English national football team. Those who wanted a little glamour and craved something a little more exotic than a son of Dudley at the helm.

But as the task of finding someone to lead the team resumes once more – and reporting on it really is has become as much an act of drudgery as undertaking it – the events of the last 24 hours are actually a source of profound sadness.

That is because when the snobbery was stripped away, Allardyce really did seem to bring something new after the torture of England’s exit from the European Championships this summer. We discovered in the aftermath of the humiliating defeat to Iceland that England had been paralysed by a manager, Roy Hodgson, who did not know his best team and did not even realise the folly of having his tallest player taking the corners, rather than head them.

The recipe for getting England right really didn’t seem to need the powers of an Einstein to sort out. Just an individual who might sort out the humourless, self-regarding culture of the national team and get it operating again. Allardyce seemed to be that one. The players have always liked him because of his uncomplicated communication and management. Pick the right team in the right formation and give it a plan, you have a chance. If not you have an inquest. That pretty much summed up it up. Because England do have players.

The chapter in Allardyce’s autobiography covering his 2006 pursuit of what he called his “dream job” gave a sense that this appointment meant more to him than the earth. He earnestly prepared a Power Point presentation, for a pitch which included a secure communications system which would allow players to download their programme for international get-togethers while still at their clubs. He said he wanted input into the complete FA structure, from the senior team through the under 21s to the younger age groups.

The starched FA types then told him back then that there were no Power Point facilities at the interview venue in Oxfordshire and that he would have to print off hard copies of the presentation. “So much for the progressive FA,” he reflected in his book. His appointment, ten years on seemed - metaphorically speaking - like the triumph of the little man.

It is fair to say that his solitary game in charge did not suggest that he would be turning the world upside down in just a month or two. He deployed Wayne Rooney in the position which Jose Mourinho, Manchester United’s manager, had designated, watched him cause imbalance to the team by drifting out of it, then declared that “Wayne can play wherever he wants.”

We were prepared to wait, though, because it just might have come to pass that a manager renowned for his work at a town in post-industrial northern England (Bolton) and who speaks with a Midlands accent could crack the puzzle the others had always made over-complicated.

But when the prospect of money presented itself, Allardyce just could not help himself. His FA salary was £3m a year plus bonuses but when the prospect of £400,000 to “meet and greet” and provide “keynote speeches” in the Far East arrived at his door, he could not get his nose out of the trough. He had not even managed the team through 90 minutes at that stage. But he bragged, betrayed confidences and dispensed ridicule – all for a few hundred thousand quid that he didn’t really need.

All around the Premier League the modern, 21st century manager is manifest – individuals like Pep Guardiola and Jurgen Klopp who think, speak and behave intelligently. Briefly and improbably, we thought Allardyce’s arrival suggested England had a leader in the ranks, too. We were wrong. And that’s where the incalculable sadness resides.