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THERE was a moment at Anfield on Wednesday when Damien Duff got possession in his customary spot on the wing and we waited hopefully for the trademark drop of the left shoulder followed by the darting run towards the box, or the killer ball across goal. Neither came.
Confronted by two defenders, Duff backed off and eventually found the safety net of Claude Makelele in midfield. Job done, he retreated back to the anonymity of the wing.
There are two ways of reading that little cameo. Either it is a sign of unselfishness and growing maturity in Duff's game, or it is further evidence, under Jose Mourinho's chronically negative regime at Stamford Bridge, that the more daring aspects of Duff's style are being submerged for the supposed greater good. Either way, there are grounds for asking whatever happened to the artist formerly known as Duffer?
A few weeks ago Duff addressed this topic in an interview. "At Blackburn I used to just get the ball and run at people, head down," he said. "Maybe I was a bit gung-ho. Now I probably think about it a bit more and often I'll give a simple pass. Who knows if it's for the worse or better? It's what I've learnt to do and I do it without thinking."
Maybe if Liverpool hadn't hedged their bets in 2002 or Manchester United prevaricated a year later, Duff might have joined a team that would have suited his attacking instincts
And there's the rub. What was it we prized most about Duff if not the seemingly effortless way he ghosted past defenders, displaying an attitude that reminded those long enough in the tooth of the spirit of Best and Matthews? He was blond, captivating and unbeatable. Best of all, he was ours.
And now, as he himself tells us, Duffer is gone to an early grave. To keep his egomaniacal club manager happy, he never gives the ball away. Risk and reward, the philosophy upon which he established his reputation, has been ditched. Duff now plays in a team that can bore even the best sides in the world into submission and, wealthy beyond his wildest dreams, is in danger of approaching that place where natural talent goes to lie down: the comfort zone.
Is it for better or worse? A cursory glance at his pedestrian performances for club and country this season offers more than a strong hint. It is surely a testament to his talent and determination that unlike Arjen Robben, his Dutch teammate, Duff's career doesn't seem to be going backwards. As fast as his legs are carrying him, though, it is merely staying rooted to the same spot.
One of the telling factors of the present era at Chelsea is that, for all their evident superiority, how many of their lavishly paid stars have enhanced their reputation under Mourinho? John Terry, for sure, but then he would be a defender. It might be tempting to add Frank Lampard, but you must overlook the creative wasteland that is the England midfield, a level of football that exposes Lampard and Steven Gerrard for the headless automatons they are.
Those who argued two years ago that Chelsea was an unsuitable destination for Duff were more prescient than they imagined. That was pre-Mourinho though, when the club still espoused a pure football ethos and cared about its supporters. Justifying his decision, Duff said he was coming to London to win trophies and improve himself as a footballer. Only the first of those declared ambitions seems guaranteed.
Curiously, this time last year it was being widely suggested that Duff wouldn't fit into the dynamic as envisaged by the recently arrived Mourinho. You could see where they were coming from. The effervescent Portuguese and - so the cliché went - the relaxed Irishman who couldn't wait for training to finish so he could head home for a nap. Never the twain would meet.
Mourinho will have been surprised and pleased at the manner in which Duff knuckled down and subsumed himself within the larger team framework. When Ricardo Carvalho complains of not playing enough, the manager takes umbrage and makes an example of him in public. When Duff complains Mourinho listens and plays him more.
But is it enough? There is a sense that at this stage of his career Duff has shown himself to be a very good player but remains a step or two short of greatness. Maybe if Liverpool hadn't hedged their bets in 2002 or Manchester United prevaricated a year later, Duff might have joined a team that would have suited his attacking instincts. For all his talent, something always seems to be holding him back.
Any time he plays for Ireland, the pressure on Duff seems so great to be almost overpowering
Expectation may be one factor. Any time he plays for Ireland, the pressure on Duff seems so great to be almost overpowering. It was already there before he went to Japan in 2002, even more so when Roy Keane was removed from the squad, and he coped admirably, heroically. Back then, though, the Ireland squad rippled with natural leaders like Niall Quinn and Steve Staunton. These days the Ireland squad has a rather threadbare look.
It is a little depressing to think that when Kenny Cunningham and Roy Keane depart, it is to Shay Given, Duff and Robbie Keane we must look to bring the next generation of Irish players forward. Suddenly it won't be enough that we ask Duff merely to be a match-winner. He must also be a team leader. It will be a huge burden.
He will face stern questions over the next 10 days, too. When Roy Keane prodded Ireland to a stuttering 4-0 victory in Cyprus four years ago, there were those who suggested it was the former captain's finest hour in a green jersey. It was an arguable assertion, but if they aren't saying the same about Duff this time next week, it is likely that Ireland's prospects of making it to Germany next year will already have disappeared.
Watching Duff struggle against the close attentions of Willy Sagnol last month was hardly an inspiring portent. Apart from a glut of friendly games where he invariably lights up the stadium, Duff has failed to do himself justice in any of Ireland's critical games since the World Cup. The more desperate Ireland's need becomes, the more we expect. Even with Keane in tow, it didn't happen against France last month and to expect it against Cyprus and Switzerland seems slightly unreasonable.
Before the France game Duff made a straightforward but illuminating observation. "Ireland do rely on me a bit more than Chelsea," he said and if he was merely stating the obvious, you could detect a clear undertone that he is not entirely comfortable with that dependence. Still, you would think playing international football might at least be a release from the straitjacket Mourinho has imposed on him at Chelsea.
Of course, he may go out on any given day and make fools of the doubters, but there is reason to worry. It's easy to forget sometimes that Duff isn't that tousled-haired blond kid who charged up and down sidelines making coaches and scouts gasp in astonishment anymore. He's 26 now and if his peak years still lie ahead, it is also true that if Ireland don't make it to Germany Duff might get, at most, one more chance to perform on the highest stage. The days of wonder and anticipation are gone. The next few years will ultimately decide Duff's place in the history of the game.
That is what makes it so frustrating to watch him in the Chelsea blue. What you see is a player who will be festooned with trophies and medals but who has more - so much more - to give.
