Stan is more than just a pretty face

The other half may not have even heard of Collymore, except possibly in association with his very public Paris assault on his then girlfriend, Ulrika Jonsson.

The clever thing (and have no doubt, he is an intelligent man) is that Monday's G2 comes with the Media Section, avidly read by television executives, radio producers and journalists.

Collymore is only 30 - his talent with a ball at his feet has earned him enough to keep him happy for a while, but there is a whole working life ahead of him and he has to start rebuilding his reputation and his opportunities before he drives himself completely insane from boredom rather than stress.

Collymore is an unusual product of the footballing school. He has a strong sense of political commitment and is keen to help Labour by canvassing for the General Election

How many footballers have you ever come across who could utter the sentences: "I'd like to see some degree of national control over the utilities. We need more balance between the private and public sector." Without thinking they were talking about the public toilets?

At times, he sounds as if he has swallowed a thesaurus for breakfast but he has got a brain and is learning how to use it.

The most interesting insight into the life of a footballer is the suggestion that they are almost encouraged not to think.

Their days are mapped out, their life controlled by agents, managers, trainers, their transport booked and their laundry done.

It may not sound a recipe for depression, but expose an individual used to considering and making his decisions for himself into an environment which gives him no means of escape and you start to see how it happened.

Collymore uses big words, thinks big thoughts, is developing an increasing disdain for his former Sun-reading colleagues, and particularly for the fans whose only deviation from the football pages was to gawp at Page Three.

He has good looks, a degree of charisma and undoubted intellect, but the major stumbling block for him is "the assault thing".

It doesn't help him that Ulrika is currently surfing the seventh wave of publicity in an attempt to promote her new television programme.

Her appearance on Parkinson once again brought up the incident, and in terms of sympathy votes, she wins by a landslide.

Collymore fails to understand the impact that the incident will always have on his reputation.

"It was five seconds of my life three years ago. Am I going to have to talk about it every time?" he said, at the end of the interview and one assumes he is genuinely bemused.

That is how he sees it, but to expect others to do so is woefully naive.

Granted, most of us have the odd five minutes of madness and it doesn't make the headlines of every newspaper in the country. But most of us also manage to curb the urge to smack the person we love, however irritating they become.

Collymore points out with feeling, you can be an alcoholic, a gambler or even a drug addict and be forgiven in football, but suffer from depression, hit your celebrity girlfriend and show all too clearly on the pitch that you don't want to play, and forgiveness is hard to come by.

No wonder he didn't do the interview in the sports pages: the fans would have laughed and jeered before they got to the second paragraph.

Instead he chose a more sympathetic audience, one more willing to accept that wealth and success are no protection against depression, but one equally able to judge what is defensible and what is not.

Collymore will have to do more than give a decent interview before the media gurus who read it pick up the phone to offer him a job.

His talent and personality require a patient and experienced style of management and Arsene Wenger has so far excelled in bringing out the best in Vieira.

He has a challenge ahead of him if he is to persuade his key player that Arsenal have the necessary artillery to challenge for domestic and European honours because there is a doubt creeping into even the impassive Wenger that they just might not be up to it.

Vieira's complaints centre on the sale of Emmanuel Petit and Marc Overmars, but he must also worry that the ageing back four and goalkeeper do not make up the recipe for the future.

Where will Arsenal be in 2004, when Vieira's contract expires?

Probably just where they are now. Chasing Manchester United, achieving in Europe when and if they are lucky and winning the odd trophy when they set their mind to it.

I was at Old Trafford for their FA Cup semi-final against Tottenham and it was so one sided that it was almost embarrassing.

Vieira was majestic. He ran through defenders, round them, over them with the ball stuck like a magnet to his boot. He ran into space, created it and passed with the vision of a telescope.

He stood head and shoulders above the rest and with the help of a sensible referee in Graham Poll, his energy was channelled into playing rather than arguing.

The contrast between Wenger and Glenn Hoddle was equally absorbing.

Wenger walked on in his suit and his traditional coat with as much poise as anyone can muster when they are wearing an anorak.

He sat in his seat, taking notes like a university lecturer watching an experiment in which he had absolute confidence. Hoddle bustled onto the pitch in his tracksuit with such speed that one of his minders tripped and fell.

The TV camera following his every move could barely keep up. He waved at the fans, chomped on chewing gum and leaned on a bar throughout the match, running down to the touchline at intervals and looking more like a substitute than a manager.

It will now be up to Wenger to put into play all of his man-management skills to ensure that Vieira's petulance does not develop into a major sulk. A good result in the FA Cup Final on 12 May may be just the fillip the club and the player need.