Kevin Keegan acknowledges that Andy Cole has improved beyond measure since he left Newcastle. Once he was simply an efficient finisher but now he has acquired the gifts of fluid movement, instant control and acute awareness; the trademarks of the exceptional footballer.

So may we assume that when Keegan names his strikers for England's forthcoming European tests, Cole will be the first name on his list? Well, not quite.

For one thing, the coach appears to harbour doubts about the essential resilience of Cole's qualities, about his technique, his nerve, his character under fire.

For another, he is still tempted by the notion that the summer will see both Michael Owen and Robbie Fowler restored to full power and mobility. And, for a third, and most relevant of all, he seems seriously worried about incurring the disapproval of Alan Shearer.

There is a pervasive rumour that Shearer regards Cole as a wholly unsuitable partner, the sort of striker who is unlikely to bring out the best in Newcastle's favourite son. And, since Shearer's opinion apparently carries the force of law in the present England camp, Cole's international ambitions may remain unfulfilled.

Now this, I suggest, is a dangerous nonsense. Over the past few weeks, and especially since he announced his decision to retire after Euro 2000, Shearer has been presented as the last of a dying breed of striker, the spiritual heir to the likes of Lawton, Lofthouse, Lineker and several other England centre-forwards with names beginning with L. We have been lectured by Bobby Robson for perversely refusing to honour an English hero and cursed by Keegan for our failure to accept Shearer's estimation of his own ability.

Well, as past and present coaches of Newcastle and England, both Robson and Keegan may feel they are in Shearer's debt. The rest of us can afford to be a shade more realistic.

Shearer was a truly extraordinary performer until injury blunted his acceleration and impaired his appetite. For the past two years or more he has fallen miserably beneath his former standards, and the speed of his decline has been matched only by the shrillness of his protests.

Of course, he remains capable of punishing inept defences and he comes across his share of ineptitude in the course of an English season. And, of course, from time to time, he can ransack his memory bank and produce the occasional performance which evokes happy memories of better days.

But the overriding impression is of a player who will deliver only when conditions are entirely to his satisfaction. He fell out with Ruud Gullit at Newcastle and so he didn't play for him. Along came Bobby Robson and he started to play his heart out. Most people decided that this spoke volumes for the inspirational qualities of Robson. Others, more perceptively, concluded that the episode revealed a depressing truth about Alan Shearer.

Likewise his decision to retire from international football at the end of Euro 2000. Again, some said it demonstrated an admirable sense of responsibility, a mature assessment of his priorities. Others suspected that he was looking for a fireproof excuse when things went wrong: 'No point in blaming me, lads. I shan't be staying around to carry the can.'

Again, we should never forget his virtues. At his peak, Shearer was a marvellous player, with strength, pace and courage to burn. He was one of those rare strikers who could produce a shudder in the bravest of defenders by the raw intensity of his assaults.

But his peak is deep in the past. What we now have is an ageing, shoulder-shrugging performer who deals only in gruffly resentful platitudes and regards personal criticism as an unpatriotic activity. It is absurd that he was ever given the England captaincy, infinitely more absurd that he is allowed to retain it.

Above all, it is beyond belief that he should appear to be exercising a veto over his potential partners in the England side. It seems that he loves Sheringham, quite likes Heskey, isn't sure about Owen, doesn't fancy Phillips and can't stand Cole.

Now Ronaldo may be able to strike those kind of poses for Brazil and Batistuta may have the last word for Argentina, but Shearer cannot seriously be counted among that exalted company.

Andy Cole has already complained publicly about Shearer's excessive influence over England affairs, and some believe that it may have cost him dearly.

But last week, against Fiorentina, he reinforced a point he has been making for a long time. He has come of age as an elite striker, he is a player operating at his peak and, now that his extraordinary speed is laced with subtlety, the case for his inclusion becomes irresistible.

And if Alan Shearer does not find that palatable, then he should be made aware of the alternatives. It would not be the most agreeable task of Kevin Keegan's career. But it might be the most significant.

More than 30 years ago, when Bill Shankly was creating the institution known as Liverpool Football Club, one of his staunchest allies was the young club secretary, Peter Robinson.

On the surface the two could scarcely have been more different. Robinson was quiet, restrained and moderate. Shankly, you may recall, was not. Still, they got along tremendously, although Robinson took quiet pride in remaining untouched by Bill's raging fanaticism, in particular, his trenchant opposition to all things Everton.

Then, after working alongside Shankly for a few months, Robinson went home one night and began to stare at the living room floor. 'Why,' he asked Mrs Robinson, 'do we have to have a bloody blue carpet?' And the man who thought himself untouched by Shankly blushed as red as the Liverpool shirt.

Last week Robinson announced his forthcoming retirement as Liverpool's executive vice-chairman. Over the past three decades he has been the most self-effacing, far-sighted and talented administrator English club football has known. And still, to the best of my knowledge, he will not have a blue carpet in the house.