Beckham's convenient smokescreen

For all the wealth and verve of the Premiership, that samba treasure chest of skills exposed an impoverished system

Of all the evasions and bromides being poured on to England's catastrophic failure to compete, either morally or psychologically, with Brazil, one needs particularly close scrutiny.

It came from the captain David Beckham, whose playing of the public relations card seems to be blissfully undeterred by his paltry contribution to the action on the field – and the ghastly image of him jumping in the air to avoid the possibility of a tackle, or gaining possession of a ball which was within seconds dispatched to the feet of Rivaldo for Brazil's first game-changing goal.

Beckham's comment, which has caused a mixture of amused contempt and a little disbelief in the Brazilian camp, perhaps takes us to the heart of the failure of English football culture which became so grimly apparent in the Shizuoka stadium on Friday. Beckham's ostensible purpose was to defend his goalkeeper David Seaman after his devastating failure to cover the flight of Ronaldinho's brilliantly conceived and executed free-kick. Said Beckham: "If anyone tries to make a scapegoat out of David Seaman I think it would be an absolute disgrace, because I think he's been the best goalkeeper in the tournament. The goal wasn't his fault. It was a fluke goal that was a cross that ended up being a goal."

How neat and convenient. Seaman, plainly, has not been the best goalkeeper in the tournament – that honour is currently being disputed by Oliver Kahn of Germany and Marcos of Brazil – and the suggestion that Ronaldinho, one of the world's most skilled performers, was incapable of reading a situation – in fact he was advised by his skipper, Cafu, of Seaman's straying from his line – and applying the touch to exploit it is an insult to chill the blood in genuinely sporting circles.

The real offence in Beckham's assertion, though, is in its implication. Somehow, he hints, England were beaten not in every way it is possible to be beaten on a football field – as they were – but because of malign circumstances. The suggestion is risible.

England's defeat was profound at all levels but its deepest message was that the thunder and spectacle of the Premiership may pay the bills, may capture a huge television audience, but is manifestly unable to support the creation of a football team to compete seriously at the highest level of the game.

In the Premiership the ball is given away so cheaply it might be small change tossed into the poor box. The generosity is based on the understanding that it will be returned almost instantly. Such assumptions were pitifully exposed and exploited by Brazil when they were reduced to 10 men 35 minutes before the end. Sven Goran Eriksson's expression was interesting when England were handed something that on the face of it was a huge advantage. Perhaps it had dawned on him that the most likely consequence was an even greater concentration by the Brazilians on the need to keep possession. That certainly was the result and the Brazilian ability to hold the ball, work it in smoothly rolling cohesion as England gasped it in its wake, became progressively embarrassing. Eriksson conceded: "We lacked patience and variety, and we should have done better against 10 men."

Cafu was relieved but also staggered by England's failure even to attempt to create width and pressure on his team's reduced manpower. "It was too easy," he said later, shaking his head. "For us it was a gift today. We did what we had to but in the end it wasn't that much. We had a lot left in our pockets."

Meanwhile, Beckham was prattling on about the avoidance of making scapegoats. It was a smokescreen behind which he, and more pressingly, Eriksson cannot afford to linger behind too long. The Swede is insulated against the heaviest criticism by his striking achievements in the 18 months or so since he inherited an England team that seemed to be heading for World Cup oblivion. Instead, they lingered to the quarter-final stage, outlasting the champions France, the favourites Argentina, the sleeping assassins, Italy, and the established European power Portugal. But this would have meant so much more if England had been able to make a real challenge to the faded but still impressive skills and thinking of Brazil. They didn't.

The victories over Argentina and Denmark, the survival in the Group of Death, shrivelled in significance with every leaden step against Brazil. Eriksson, in reality, found himself pretty much back to where he started at the dawn of the tournament, when England produced a numbing performance against Sweden. He failed to explain what steps he made to irrigate the tactical desert that England inhabited against both Sweden and Brazil. He talked vaguely about the improvements we will see in four years time. But from where will they come? From new stars? From new tactics?

In Shizuoka on Friday such optimism was dwarfed by a sense of the kind of malaise which cannot be shaken by the arrival of a few bright youngsters or a tactical overhaul. This was not about a gameplan. It was about how you see football, what subtlety of thought and imagination you bring to it, and in what terms you play it. Given that truth, the gap between Brazil and England was painful to see. Brazil are supposed to be on their last legs as a great football nation. It is another reason to weep for the lost horizons of the English game.