There are many definitions of madness in sport - believing Rwanda’s national soccer team Amavubi would crumble against Uganda Cranes in the ongoing lucrative GTV tourney in the face of a malevolent grimace is one recent example that springs to mind - but perhaps nothing matches the madness of making assumptions when it comes to the appointment of England coaches.

The deed is never done until the fat contract is signed, or to put it more succinctly: Luiz Felipe Scolari. The fiasco over Sven-Goran Eriksson’s replacement cemented the view that those charged with running the Football Association might be better suited to running a Christmas club, but only if it were a very small one.

It also informed the clamor for immediate action when Steve McClaren departed, a clamor that focused almost entirely on securing the services of one man.

If I had a penny for every time Brian Barwick, the FA’s chief executive, was told he was duty bound to jump on the first available plane to Portugal and lay himself at Jose Mourinho’s feet I could afford the services of a qualified psychiatrist capable of explaining why the football world is populated by so many "experts” who seem to know everything and nothing at the same time.

Leaving aside the fact that the former Chelsea manager is temperamentally unsuited to the fitful life of an international manager, the truth is that he never wanted the England job.

That last assertion is delivered safe in the knowledge that his spell at Stamford Bridge taught us that his public utterances were best approached with the same measure of (dis)respect we reserve for used-car salesman.

As ever, a far more reliable guide to his real intentions came from those deputised to speak off the record on his behalf and from the moment Mourinho left Chelsea the mood music from those around him on the subject of the England job was as steadfast as a Wagnerian opera: he wasn’t interested; he wanted a club job in Spain or Italy; he was too young to take a job in international management; but when he was ready the only job suitable would be that of managing Portugal.

What happened to change his mind? Nothing: being Jose Mourinho means never having to do anything as demeaning as changing one’s mind. What happened was that Europe’s biggest clubs seemed unaware a managerial genius was theirs for the taking.

They needed a little encouragement, and if that meant enlisting the inadvertent help of those gullible enough to believe Mourinho might make the return trip to London then so be it.

With the news that Milan want him to replace the estimable Carlo Ancelotti came the news that Mourinho was no longer interested in becoming England coach. Still, San Siro’s inexplicable desire is Wembley’s lucky escape.

England has now appointed Fabio Capello, who not only possesses a far more impressive CV than the self-promoting Portuguese but is also a more substantial character.

He owns an extensive art collection, which if nothing else renders him infinitely more interesting than a man whose most treasured possession might have been a collection of mirrors.

Capello will not be judged by the quality of his art but by his ability to restore the fortunes of England’s football team.

That judgment will be a while in the making but in the meantime England’s fans can take comfort in the knowledge the new coach will not indulge preening egos (of which the England squad possesses many), nor be encumbered by the fear of media criticism that seemed to haunt McClaren.

Whatever happens over the next two years, it promises to be fascinating.

E-mail: ensekanabo@gmail.com