48 hours: Loyalty easily disposed of these days

Full time is a gem of a sports book, the story of Tony Cascarino, a professional footballer in Britain in the 1980s and 90s.

I picked it up again over the weekend, inspired - although not uplifted - by the antics of some of our leading sportsmen.

Cascarino, who played 88 games and a couple of World Cups for Ireland, portrays himself - with the help of author Paul Kimmage - as a sort of anti-hero.

"The only thought in my head when I opened my eyes was 'Shit, here I go again'," he says, recalling a point in his career.

"I did not want to be Tony Cascarino. I did not want to be a star ... I did not want to be a professional footballer. I woke up this morning feeling nothing but contempt for the game."

Cascarino tells stories, like one about an international team-mate who liked to talk to his dog on the telephone, or how his Chelsea coach Glenn Hoddle belittled players by out-skilling them at training.

"If he was an ice cream, he would lick himself," Cascarino reported a team-mate as saying about the self-obsessed manager.

Cascarino also reveals a murky tale, about how for much of his Irish career he wasn't even qualified to play for them. It is a remarkable story considering he is Ireland's third most capped player and Fifa is so strict in this area.

Londoner Cascarino qualified under a grandparent rule, although it turns out that the man he thought was his birth grandfather wasn't etc. etc. There might just be a touch of blarney in Cascarino's version of events, which includes the supposed shock of finding this out - from his mother - so late in his career.

To cut a long story short, Cascarino qualified to play for Ireland only just before his 65th appearance. Even then, he admits to some "discrepancies" on the documents he supplied to obtain an Irish passport, which was suddenly required when Fifa tightened the rules.

For those looking for a sports book with a difference, it's a blast of a read - 200 pages of unpretentious fun and insight.

At least Cascarino played for Ireland like he meant it, even if he shouldn't have been there in the first place. His heart beat most proudly when he and five other English-born Irish players lined up in the World Cup against England, the team he naturally supported as a boy.

" ... although we never pretended we were 100 per cent Irish, we were 100 per cent committed to Ireland and its team," he said.

Some other sports stars, bless their little self-interested hearts, seem to believe they should be able to hop from country to country depending on how they feel in the morning.

The latest cases ...

Craig Spearman, the ex-Black Cap and now a professional with Gloucestershire, soon qualifies to play for England and says that is where his allegiance now lies. He wouldn't mind playing for their one-day team.

England aren't too fussy about where they get their cricketers from, but they'll probably draw the line here.

I wish Spearman all the worst, and hope he fails dismally.

If he'd had the decency to tell us he wasn't all that committed to the New Zealand cause in the first place, we might never have picked him and he could have got on with his English project.

A leading New Zealand cricketer once told me he rated Spearman as the most talented batsman in the country at that time, in that he read deliveries quicker than anyone.

Maybe Spearman's lack of conviction is what told in the international arena. His test career ended in 2000, when he was a late withdrawal from a test in South Africa after telling coach David Trist he didn't feel up to the battle. His one day and test averages are decidedly average. At 32, England would regard him as the sort of investment their Barings Bank became infamous for.

There is a wider issue than just Spearman's case. International sport was built on characters prepared to put everything on the line for one cause. The Colin Meads and Allan Borders of this world.

Even if there is a touch of misty eyed unrealism to this view, the stirring nature of international contest wasn't built around players who crossed borders when they got bored.

Case number two is Warriors forward Richard Villasanti, who has played for Australia and is - according to a Sunday newspaper - considering trying to re-qualify to play for the Kiwis.

Maybe it means the suggestions I've heard that the 2003 Kangaroo to Britain has no chance of playing for Australia again are correct. If so, that's Villasanti's problem to sort out.

Rugby league has already stuffed up by allowing Tonie Carroll to play for both Australia and New Zealand.

With infuriating nonchalance, Carroll once said: "I was very pleased to play for New Zealand and I contributed well over there. I hope I can do the same for Australia."

We're so pleased you're pleased.

Yet the sport needs only look at the State of Origin to understand what true rivalry, built on sound rules, can engender. Rugby sorted this out, rugby league should do the same.

Villasanti, once a Junior Kiwi, seems ready to play fast and loose with test jerseys. The NZ Rugby League should protect the integrity of their sport and tell Villasanti he'll never pull the Kiwi shirt over his head in anger. He had his chance.

Cascarino may have pulled an Irish fiddle, but at least playing for what became his countryfolk pulled at his heart strings. Unlike these fickle chancers.

High point

The bowling and fielding in the State Shield final.

Low point

The batting in the State Shield final. Maybe our dodgy pitches are to blame.