HE was England’s first foreign manager.
A bespectacled, smiling Swede, schooled in Portugal and Italy, who came across the Channel to finally bring some sophistication to the Three Lions.
But over the next five years, we were all to discover there was so much more to Sven Goran Eriksson than anybody could have imagined.
Yes, a diligent, if slightly one-dimensional coach – more wedded to a military 4-4-2 than a Regimental Sergeant Major.
Someone who was in thrall to celebrity, especially when it came to David Beckham.
Who encouraged, seemingly obliviously, the ultimate Wag culture.
And who was the most unlikely Lothario, scoring more times than some of his strikers.
Yet nobody who spent time in Eriksson’s company will fail to feel deeply sad at the news of his death from pancreatic cancer at the age of 76.
Eriksson was hailed as the answer to the years of failed questions when he was unveiled in November 2000.
Only a month earlier, Kevin Keegan had quit in a Wembley toilet after defeat against Germany, with caretaker Howard Wilkinson telling the media England should “write off” the 2002 World Cup.
His appointment – in truth, Arsenal vice-chairman David Dein, desperate not to lose Arsene Wenger, was the primary force behind it – met a mixture of excitement and John Bull disapproval.
But Eriksson smartly negotiated the trick questions about the identity of the “Sunderland left back”, insisting he would win everybody over.
And didn’t he just? Less than 10 months later, they were recording pop singles about him.
He was certainly top of the charts on September 1, 2001, after a magical night in Munich.
Despite winning his first five games, with Beckham confirmed as his captain, Germany were red-hot favourites. They had never previously lost a home World Cup qualifier.
England were billeted in a city centre hotel next door to the Bavarian capital’s most riotous Bierkeller. Many wondered if Sven had lost his marbles.
Instead, he masterminded an unforgettable night. Michael Owen’s hat-trick, a Steven Gerrard pile-driver. “5-1…..even Heskey scored!”
When Beckham, deep in Old Trafford stoppage time, arced a free-kick over the Greek wall and into the back of the Stretford End net to earn England and automatic place in Japan and Korea, he could do no wrong.
But with Sven, no matter how much he insisted “private is private” it was never just about the football.
Eriksson had arrived in London complete with Italian eye candy.
He had swiped the attentions of sultry temptress Nancy Dell’Olio after telling her then-husband what he intended to do.
But one woman was not enough.
When it emerged Eriksson had enjoyed a tumultuous fling with Ulrika Jonsson, there was stunned disbelief.
Even if stacking the dishwasher and leaving his platform shoes outside the bedroom caused ribald laughter.
Yet it was just one of a number, including an affair with FA secretary Faria Alam – who was also bedding his boss, chief executive Mark Palios.
Indeed, few women seemed immune to his effortless charm and manner. There was something, hard to describe, that seemed irresistible.
And his players seemed to love him too – probably because he gave them total freedom to do what they wanted.
Only Eriksson would have backed the players when they threatened to strike in protest at the FA banning Ferdinand for missing a training ground drugs test. It sealed the bond.
“Club England” appeared at times more about the “Club” than the “England”.
It was a lax regime, where the manager was as excited to see the equally famous partners of his squad as the players themselves.
That, infamously, reached its pinnacle – or nadir – at the Wags’ circus in Baden Baden – so bad they named it twice – in 2006.
Table dancing every night was manna from Heaven for the photographers and news reporters. For Eriksson’s players, Lampard in particular, it was a daily destabilising distraction.
Arguably, though, a reign that had begun in so much optimism and excitement petered away – even though Eriksson was blessed with the most glittering talents of the “golden generation”.
Not just Beckham, Owen and Gerrard. But Ashley Cole, Rio Ferdinand, John Terry, Sol Campbell, Frank Lampard, Paul Scholes – although, tired of being played out of position, he stepped back from the international scene in 2004 – Joe Cole and of course, Wayne Rooney.
Instead of glory, there were a series of quarter-final near-misses.
Brazil, in the heat of Shizuoka in 2002, when Ronaldinho’s free kick from outer Mongolia flew over David Seaman’s head
Then Portugal in Lisbon, on penalties, when Rooney – who had belied his teenage birthdate to set the tournament on fire – broke his foot with England one-up.
Finally, two years later, eliminated for the third time running by Luis Felipe Scolari, Portugal again, under the Gelsenkirchen roof, once more suffering the curse of the white spot.
Where we had all nodded at Eriksson’s sage, gnostic utterances – talking about the need for his players to have “furbo” – “a fox behind the ear” – they started to rile.
Some became a running joke. “First half good; second half not so good” was one. “Too many jellow (yellow) cards” another.
And where flirting with women was one thing, continually flirting with clubs became too much.
Sir Alex Ferguson did a U-turn on retirement when he realised Eriksson was lined up to replace him at Manchester United.
A covert meeting with Roman Abramovich saw a panicky FA offer him a new deal to stay with England.
But when indiscretions during a fake job offer from Aston Villa were published, it was too much even for the FA blazers.
Eriksson’s departure after the 2006 World Cup was post-dated. Most felt it was overdue.
What followed, as England failed to even reach Euro 2008 under Steve McClaren, more disappointments under Fabio Capello and Roy Hodgson, put the Eriksson years into a different light.
By that stage he was on a global managerial tour. Manchester City, Mexico, Ivory Coast, Leicester, three clubs in China and finally the Philippines national side.
When he announced his terminal diagnosis in January, the wave of sadness was real.
He may not have been a great manager. But he was a better one than he seemed. And he was always an absolute gent.
