'arry for England?

I SIT firmly in the camp that says if you have to be born in England to play for the national team you should be born in England to manage it.
I'm the first to admit that the influx of foreign players has made the Premier League more exciting and the likes of Wenger, Benitez and Mourinho are brilliant tacticians.
But with the proliferation of foreign owners also, don't you feel that our national game is being wrestled from us?
I was dead against the appointment of Sven Gorin Eriksson as the England coach on such a ludicrously obscene salary, although I concede he's a great club manager and is doing a brilliant job at Manchester City.
OK, so the FA appointed an English manager in Steve McClaren but I always thought he was a good No 2 and the ultimate job was beyond him. So it proved.
For weeks I've been promoting the attributes of Harry Redknapp as the next England boss. Seriously. I've always been a big admirer of 'appy Harry ever since I was the publisher of the West Ham club newspaper "Hammers News" in the early 1990s and was always impressed by his passion for the game.
Harry's one of the best home-grown managers we have; he's a good man manager, knows foreign football as well as anyone in the game today, can spot a talent with one kick of the ball and, most importantly, he's got passion in bucketfuls. And a sense of humour.
Put him in charge of the national set-up with the help of Tony Adams, his assistant at Portsmouth, the England Under 21 manager Stuart Pearce and his son Jamie, who knows the current crop of prima donnas well, and I think you have an unbeatable management team.
Then came along last week's events when Harry's luxury pad at Sandbanks was raided by police at 6 am, scaring the wits out of his wife, as part of their on-going investigation into the corruption of football.
Harry wasn't even at home, having been watching a game in Germany the night before. Good timing boys. He was arrested later, as was Pompey chief Executive Peter Storrie and a few others. No charges have been made and I doubt whether there will be.
The possibility of Harry Redknapp, despite his barrow-boy image, becoming the next England manager was starting to gather momentum.
I doubt whether Harry would have ever got the call from those grey men in suites at Soho Square. It's not the first time his name has been linked to the bung culture that surrounds football of today, resulting in him refusing to speak to the BBC since the Panorama programme besmirched his reputation.
Rod Liddell, my favourite columnist, floated the idea in the Sunday Times that the dawn visitation by the Old Bill could not have come at a better time for the FA who will now have a good excuse not to talk to Harry when an increasing number of people were jumping on the Redknapp for England bandwagon.
And who tipped off the Sun photographer that the 6 am raid on Harry's house was taking place? Did another brown envelop change hands?
In typical Redknapp fashion, Harry called a press conference, showing anger, humility and humour in equal measures.
One thing is for sure. Any hopes that Harry had that his career would finally be recognised with the top job are out the window. What a pity.
England needs a down-to-earth English manager who would be proud to do the job.
You can keep your Cappelos and your Scolaris.
'appy Harry was the man for the job - until the Old Bill barged into Redknapp Towers.
When his name is finally cleared - which I believe will happen - it will be too late.
Brian Barwick and his team of depressingly spineless side-kicks will have dished out another multi-million contract which will almost certainly end in tears and another whopping compensation cheque.
No wonder I find myself increasingly drawn to the oval ball game. Me and a million others.
National sport? National laughing stock, more like.