Rumours are abound that Steven Gerrard is in negotiations to become the new boss at MK Dons though when reports stop at ‘preliminary talks,’ it’s probably best to remain sceptical for the present.

What is beyond dispute, however, is that this won’t be the last time a member of England’s supposed ‘Golden Generation’ is heavily linked to a managerial position as collectively they enter retirement or grow bored of the cosy studios in which they offer their punditry. No matter how much money they have accrued or how crammed their trophy cabinets are, history tells us that their competitive drive will inevitably lead them towards the pull of management at some stage, now or in the future.

They will do so – the likes of Gerrard, Lampard, Hargreaves, Cole, Campbell, Barry, Terry, Neville and Scholes – knowing in their hearts that the game has changed significantly since they emitted disappointing roars for the Three Lions while amassing silverware and fulfilling their vast potential for their club sides. I am not referring here to the mechanics of the game – the fundamentals of football that are embedded in their DNA and I’ve just tried to tot up their accumulative years of experience, only to lose count twice which kind of proves my point here. I am instead specifically highlighting the evolution of the modern-day ‘gaffer’.

If the 1990s saw diet and lifestyle completely revolutionised while the 2000s beckoned in an era of data analysis, then this decade has been defined by the cult of the coach, a raising of the bar several miles above the requirements that used to suffice for anyone wishing to don a suit and point a lot in the technical area.

It used to be that prominent players could hang up their boots, take their badges, and through their achievements on the pitch alone prove an attractive proposition for any chairmen seeking a fresh direction in which to take their club. Why? Because the player’s standing in the game would ensure plenty of positive exposure and the instant respect of those expected to run through walls for him.

Furthermore, by maintaining a career at the highest level, the candidate in question had long carved a strong personality capable of dealing with immense pressure. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, his years at the top had been almost exclusively spent under successful managers who he would have learned from.

Examples of the above are bountiful, from the successful (Dalglish) to the fair-to-middling (Hoddle, Robson) to many more hopelessly unable to make the transition but in the age of the cult of the coach such boasts on the CV are merely entry level basic requirements.

Coaching now is a specialist skillset like never before. It is an all-consuming calling that demands you are part chess grandmaster, part psychological guru, part obsessive nerd. It is for the chosen few and being a ‘proper football man’ with medals in your locker and the ability to motivate and set a team up simply doesn’t come close to cutting it.

The all-consuming nature is why you rarely see player-managers anymore. The exacting standards is why you see Dwight Yorke and Sol Campbell make it publicly known they are keen to enter the world of management without any takers.

We’ve already witnessed one of the most cerebral of the ‘Golden Generation’ in Gary Neville fail miserably at Valencia. The odds of others from that frustrating national side of the 2000s going on to come unstuck in a similar fashion is short.

Right about now you may well be going through Europe’s elite bosses and coming to the conclusion that several were also top players in their time. This is true. There is Diego Simeone and Pep Guardiola and Zidane. Conte and Koeman too. Yet none of these mentioned were recruited because of their standing as players.

I fear that won’t be the case with at least a couple from England’s most talented side in recent years. I also fear they will get found out and come up short, exactly like their team did in five underwhelming tournaments.

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