When Sir Clive Woodward was travelling the southern hemisphere, boldly laying waste to his professional credibility in the years after England's victory at the 2003 rugby union World Cup, one of the crucial planks of his bizarre battle plan was the appointment of Alastair Campbell as media relations adviser to the Lions.

Campbell is a proactive proponent of the form of media management widely known as spin-doctoring and as the previous Lions tour had been blighted by PR disasters - most spectacularly, Austin Healey calling it on with the entire male population of Australia in a newspaper column before the deciding international, which the Lions duly lost - Woodward felt an experienced, battle-hardened communications professional was required. He could not have been more wrong (although he did have several goes at it that summer).

In New Zealand, Campbell's presence merely created a permanent negative story concerning the Lions' overblown backroom staff, so lavishly assembled that it even included a propagandist, the man who helped to compile the discredited dossier used to justify the invasion of Iraq. Campbell's stock was low going into that tour and Woodward's had bottomed out, too, by the time it finished. He departed as Sir Alf Ramsey and came back as Graham Taylor, with Campbell redundant because the Lions lost the series 3-0. That is sport for you. The result of the second international, a 48-18 defeat, was the worst in the Lions' 114-year history. Talk your way out of that.

The sensible do not even try, but as sense has long ceased playing a part in the administration of the national game, the next stage of modernisation proposed by the Football Association chairman, Lord Triesman, involves the arrival of a souped-up director of communications to replace the incumbent, Adrian Bevington, who, it is hoped, will accept a fresh role with responsibility for the management of media involving the England team.

Triesman wishes the new man to have a government background, or experience in business, and to usher in an era of strategic control, forging stronger links with the world of politics and finance and leading administrative bodies such as Uefa and the Premier League. A new Labour rottweiler in muddy boots, if you like.

You never know, if Triesman has a death wish, he may even give it to Sir Clive's old chum, Alastair.

Sport, and football in particular, has always had a problem with media management, because the make-or-break issue is out of the hands of the man marshalling the campaign. When Campbell was working with Tony Blair, he could shape the process, establish a message or party line and insist that those involved stuck to it. He could implement those same methods with the Lions, but if the team then lose 48-18, the agenda changes instantly.

Triesman may believe a purely political strategist could steer the FA through muddy waters, but he is yet to experience a night such as the one in Barcelona against Andorra last year, when England players were forced to seek refuge from their own abusive fans in a dressing-room, there were orchestrated chants for the manager to be sacked and, incensed at what he viewed as unfair criticism, Steve McClaren walked out of the press conference after a matter of seconds, telling those in the room to write what they liked. And this was after a 3-0 win, by the way.

Yet, unsurprisingly to anyone familiar with the strange motivational forces of football, it became, albeit briefly, a turning point in the campaign, uniting the squad behind the head coach. To anyone schooled in the glossy strategies of the career politician, however, it was a car crash.

So Triesman, not having a football background despite his allegiance to Tottenham Hotspur, misses one very important factor. That this fine talk of strategy, of cunning plans and political long games, goes straight out of the window if England lose in Croatia next month; or in any match of significance between now and the World Cup final on July 11, 2010. At which point, batten down the hatches. The only strategy that matters to the country is the one Fabio Capello, the present manager, will deploy to avoid embarrassment at the qualifying stage. Everything else is chatter. If the football is not right, no other facet of the organisation is considered important.

Brian Barwick, the FA chief executive who was the first high-profile victim of Triesman's Soho Square coup, discovered this when he read his professional obituaries. He has made the organisation wealthier than at any time in its history, he oversaw the construction of Wembley and many valuable campaigns. Did this dominate the headlines? No, because Barwick was also the man who missed out on Luiz Felipe Scolari and ended up with McClaren, subsequently failing to qualify for the 2008 European Championship finals. Bye-bye bungler seemed about the size of it.

Every sporting organisation must have an idea of where it wants to be and a contingency plan if it fails to get there, but football is too volatile to respond to much meaningful planning. What strategy would Triesman have in place for a night such as November 21, 2007, for instance, when England played Croatia at Wembley with a Euro 2008 place at stake? It was widely believed that McClaren would lose his job if England did not win, but in 90 minutes he was in, then out, then in, then out. The FA dismissed him the next day, which was a proactive decision, but still one taken by necessity very much on the hoof, not as part of any grand scheme. It certainly would not have been made any easier by some Slick Willie at the top table, reciting a series of glib, on-message statements, when the country required a bit of heart and soul.

And what do we make of the Premier League sources who say that when the idea of the 39th game was first put to the FA chairman, he was enthusiastic, and that only after the public backlash - and the condemnation of Sepp Blatter, the Fifa president - did he give his statement condemning the plan. If this allegation were true - and no doubt Triesman's recollection of the conversation will differ - the main strategy would seem to be self-preservation and a hefty bit of kowtowing to those with the final say on the destination of the 2018 World Cup.

Triesman is a politician in every sense and he wants men of similar mind around him. In his bubble, perhaps he does not realise that people are innately suspicious of politicians, more than ever in the wake of the War in Iraq.

That was Campbell's problem in New Zealand from the start. Even when he was right, he was playing to a hostile crowd. In the opening minutes of the first international in Christchurch, Brian O'Driscoll, the captain, was spear-tackled by Tana Umaga and Keven Mealamu. He dislocated a shoulder and was out for the rest of the tour. It was a dirty trick, a disgrace, really, and the Lions lost. The outcome probably would not have altered and nobody denied that, yet when Woodward and Campbell drew attention to the O'Driscoll incident, their message soon became lost in baseless accusations of spin-doctoring from the opposition, who claimed it was sour grapes and that Woodward was trying to distract from the defeat.

He would have been better off going in alone, as a rugby man, and appealing to the other rugby men in the room at a gut level. It does not always pay to be slick and, for such a smooth operator, Triesman has missed the significance in Boris Johnson's election as London Mayor. The public like a bit of roughness around the edges; misguidedly or not, they consider it authentic.

Bevington is not rough around the edges. He is a professional doing a professional job, often fronting out a difficult situation, but what he is not is some clever dick with a five-year corporate strategy and no feeling for football. A guy such as that would last two minutes parroting the party line in the face of the maelstrom of a bad night for England. The Government got away with a dossier that stated Iraqi bombs could rain on London in 45 minutes. Last week, Capello couldn't get away with telling a press conference what formation he had played without encountering scepticism. Few think they are sharp enough to manage the economy; but everybody knows better than the England manager.

This is how complex it is. After a 2-2 home draw with the Czech Republic, Capello faced questions on his formation and particularly his use of Steven Gerrard. Harry Redknapp, the Portsmouth manager, had said he was killing Gerrard by using him on the left of midfield. Capello denied this. He said England's formation was 4-3-2-1 and Gerrard was supporting the striker.

Capello is one of the most successful football coaches in history. You would think he would know what system he played. Yet the overriding reaction to his explanation was a derisive raspberry. Basically, few were buying it. The performance was rubbish, the players were rubbish and the manager didn't know what he was doing. This seemed harsh, but then sport is prone to extremes of opinion. Right now, having read the back pages and messageboards and caught the odd phone-in, Capello would appear to be one lousy result in Zagreb away from having a fez popped on his head and being sent up as Tommy Cooper, the magician whose tricks kept going wrong.

We may not like it, we may wish for a more reasoned debate, but that is the reality for England and a goal down in Croatia, Triesman, Campbell or Squealer from Animal Farm will be of little use unless one finds a way of getting on the end of a corner by David Beckham. And that will be tough, even for folk as smart as his Lordship, Comical Ali or a talking pig.