Dear Mr Rooney,

We have not been introduced and therefore I do not propose to patronise by addressing you by your Christian name.

After the Algeria game you sarcastically and vituperatively applauded some England fans that were booing you and your team-mates.

You have issued, via official FA channels, a statement that contains the words “I apologise”. No doubt each member of Camp England HQ hopes that that is the end of the matter. Furthermore, I read today that we should be grateful that you went this far since one of your colleagues apparently believes that your ire was justified.

I find it astonishing that I feel compelled to pen you this letter. As I write I realise that I am, in fact, trying to correct your own and your colleague’s misguided set of values. I will not demean this letter by references to money, cars, or massage parlours, though there are many of my age who remember press details that many of your squad would rather we forget.

Let me focus purely and simply on why you are in South Africa and what we hope you will do there. You may not actually now qualify, but I sincerely hope that this letter reaches you and helps in some tiny way to get the qualification process back on track.

Let me be very clear. Sarcastically insulting your fans is an absolute disgrace, for which such an apology alone cannot atone. Moreover, the failure of your team-mate to realise this disqualifies him, in my view, from representing his country any further.

Given that I am publishing this charge you and he are entitled to a brief explanation as to why I have spent an hour on this some 3 days before we play the critically important Slovenia game.

Let me explain. I have been allocated a weekly slot in the Hendon Times by its community conscious editorial staff precisely because of the importance of sport to communities like Hendon.

I and hundreds of my dear friends spend the bulk of our spare time encouraging others to play sport, and explaining to MPs, Councillors, powerful quangos (like the Charity Commission) the critical importance of not demolishing or concreting over any more of our playing facilities. This is no easy task.

My friend Robert Goymour is 66. For 6 1/2 years he has spent several hours each day defending a now scruffy and weed infested football pitch that used to be home to Hendon FC. One day we hope they will return. On this and other campaigns we have together written hundreds of letters and papers, endured litigation, personal lawsuits and insults from those with vested financial interests. On Hendon alone Robert Goymour’s files comprise 30 ring biniders.

The Hendon turf has been a breeding ground for many of our national sporting legends, Dennis and Leslie Compton being perhaps the most famous. Mike Gatting, better known for his cricket, told me that he and his brother Steve, who went on to play for Arsenal, both cut their footballing teeth on these fields.

Robert and I grind away on these campaigns, each one riddled with malfeasance, corruption, and scant regard for communities, in the increasingly vain hope that you and our other present day sporting heroes will continue to justify the effort. We pray that you will display some of the talent, backbone, athleticism, winning instinct, and sheer gut that have inspired us (and your present travelling supporters) over the years.

After a performance against Algeria in which precisely none of the aforementioned attributes was detectable, you and your teammates could at the very least have apologised to the fans as you left the pitch.

But you did not, and a now infamous TV clip is repeated excessively. What kind of inspiration, I wonder, does Max, my soon to be 7 year old grandson derive from this? According to his mother, Max is looking for heroes, male role models, and a sense of sporting values. Too often, in my view, he gives up our practice sessions too easily, whether they involve striking a foot-, squash, tennis or golf ball. He does not yet feel inspired.

When I was 7, I was inspired. Although born to Scottish parents I was raised in Welling, Kent. In 1966 Scotland did not feature on my football radar screen and I was delirious when ‘we’ won the World Cup.

Perhaps it was because I was only 7 that I allowed myself to believe that this birthday treat would land in my lap every four years, provided I ate all my vegetables. In 1970, despite the qualifying slip up to Brazil I still assumed we would retain the trophy and was wallowing in smug satisfaction one sunny afternoon when we went into half time comfortably stuffing the (West) Germans again. I could not understand how we proceeded to squander a 2-0 lead, with Gerd Muller seemingly scoring at will.

Even in those days my nose for foul play was twitching. In the light of an outrageous attempt to slur Bobby Moore’s reputation with false allegations of jewellery theft, I sensed that Gordon Banks had been deliberately poisoned. Had he played we would not have lost. I was sure that there would be an inquiry, that Germany would be exposed as cowardly cheats and England put straight through to the semi-final. Sadly I was mistaken. But I was still inspired.

So began my obsession with sport. I have competed since I was 9 at virtually any sport for any team or group that would have me. At football my pinnacle was an invitation to train with AP Leamington when at university, but I never “made it” in any sense at any sport. But it does not matter. I am simply addicted.

At the age of 36 I was sacked from an investment bank for “playing too much squash” (letter available). I confess that I do not wake up one single day without looking forward to whatever game I have sneaked into my diary with my ever forgiving wife’s permission. I cannot describe the pleasure I take from sport and the interaction with other genuine sporting people.

This is why I spend so much time defending facilities. Why should the next generation be denied the euphoria of sport?

In October 2001, I received a letter from the trustees of the Walker Ground in Southgate announcing that they were going to “sell off” some of the playing fields and terminate squash and other indoor sports. I wanted to be selfish and just join somewhere else. But I kept thinking about a 17 year old girl with whom I was playing in our club’s third squash team – Alison Waters. Although she was a highly ranked national junior, I had seen many similarly promising youngsters slip by the wayside at various clubs. What signal would the termination of squash and the selling of playing fields send to her?

I approached the trustees about their plans and explained that knocking down these courts made no sense commercially and moreover would not help Alison develop. The trustees could not care less and pressed on with their awful plans. I am proud to report that after nearly 9 years the courts are still standing and the trustees have been frustrated, but I fear they will try again and I remain inspired by Alison and the small number of elite athletes I have been lucky enough to meet that give so much for the honour of playing for their country. England are World Champions at squash.

Three years previously a close friend and serious football fan, Geoff Vickers, had kindly taken me to a Boro game with club and England legend Wilf Mannion. As we travelled through North London to QPR Wilf described the scorching heat of Brazil in 1950, and yes, the shame and embarrassment of playing for England in their fateful World Cup defeat in Brazil by the USA. I felt deeply moved by the effort he made to explain how difficult it was to play in such oppressive heat, on concrete pitches with the wrong kinds of studs. He was still fuming that the team had been made to train hard in that heat the very day before the match.

I sensed that Wilf (for we were introduced) was trying, even then, to seek forgiveness from two ordinary sports lovers for an embarrassing defeat even though we were both aged minus 9 at the time. He knew the weighty burden he bore as a member of our national football team, a burden he would never discard, a burden I am sure he took with him to the grave. The highs and lows of our national team are matters of historic importance and influence our sporting culture deeply. He seemed to be saying that despite the whole team’s extreme fatigue he should have made sure we beat the USA on June 29th 1950.

Wilf Mannion’s integrity was such that, back in England, he allowed his playing licence to be revoked by the League rather than breach a confidence and reveal the name of the Club (Aston Villa) who broke League rules by approaching him with an offer to leave his contracted club at the time. Which of you players would treat issues of honour in such a way today?

When I read his obituary in April 2000 I remembered that day well and struggled for a while to suppress the lump that kept welling in my throat.

For these reasons, Mr Rooney, I hope you now realise that your written statement of apology does not suffice. Do you think my grandson Max is leafing through official FA communiqués for your apology?

I hope that you accept this letter as simply the truth. I hope also that you accept that the sooner you and your misguided team-mate begin to experience genuine remorse for your shambolic performance before, and appalling conduct after, the final whistle, the sooner you will regain the support and passion of your supporters.

A great performance is now required. It lies within you but only discipline, steel and preparation will bring it out onto the pitch. You can rediscover those qualities, but not from your coaching staff or sycophantic entourage. You should look to yourselves, not the fans, for the reasons behind your team’s poor form to date.

If you start now to prepare in this way we can still prevail. Make my 51st July as memorable as my 7th.

If you are struggling for any inspiration in the build up to Wednesday, call Alison. She dies for her England shirt every time she wears it. Email me and, with her permission, I will give you her number.

Yours sincerely

Gordon Kerr