Ravel Morrison is The One.
He will either be football’s greatest treasure . . or its *latest tragedy.
He is only 18. The choice between fame and oblivion is his.
He can repay Manchester United’s faith, defy the *demons and become rich beyond reason.
Or he can revert to type, succumb to self-destructive anger and become just *another doomed youth.
Last week was a snapshot of a schizophrenic life.
It was shaped in *Wythenshawe, an estate in south Manchester blighted by the modern evils of gun crime and gang culture.
Morrison was a child of the streets, glowering out at the world beneath a Hoodie.
On Monday he was man of the match as United won the FA Youth Cup for the 10th time.
He scored twice, won a penalty and justified his reputation as the most *naturally-talented player to emerge at Old Trafford since Paul Scholes
On Tuesday, Gary Neville’s testimonial reminded him of the unqualified love football fans reserve for one of their own.
The principal lesson of Neville’s career – that in *football as in life, you get out what you put in – has never been more relevant.
On Wednesday, Morrison escaped the prison sentence that almost certainly would have ended his United *career.
He was fined for criminal damage and, for the second time in two years, his *girlfriend refused to press assault *charges.
Last night at Wembley, he was shown what he has to lose.
A place in history, a storied contribution to something that is bigger than him.
The court heard he is paid £3,400 on the 25th of each month. Stay clean, stay safe, and those earnings will be multiplied by 100.
Assessing Morrison’s talent – the basis of such an equation – is the easy bit.
He is beautifully balanced, blessed with a searing turn of pace and strength of shot on either foot. Morrison’s vision, close control, physical dexterity and unerring opportunism remind me of David Villa.
There is a touch of Wayne Rooney, the street footballer, in his instinctive refusal to be intimidated.
He can play in central *midfield or anywhere across a modern, fluid, front three.
Yet is he worth the effort?
His consistent rejection of authority and his hair-trigger temper led to the court *ordering him to seek counselling.
Morrison was 15 when he was cautioned for assaulting his mother. Two days after turning *professional on his 17th *birthday he was *arrested for intimidating a witness and given a *12-month referral order.
His coaches at England level were on the verge of giving up on him.
It is easy to be cynical to suggest the quality of *United’s mercy is linked to the rarity of his talent.
But one of the traits of Sir Alex Ferguson’s *management is his devotion to the club’s duty of care
United’s tradition of youth development, established by Sir Matt Busby, occasionally involves the application of peer pressure.
I’m told Rio Ferdinand even offered to take *Morrison into his family home.
We forget that footballers are a cross section of *society.
Ferdinand grew up in a ground floor flat in Peckham where the street tsars ruled.
John Terry admits that some of his boyhood friends are in prison, on the dole or dead.
Paul Ince, a former Old Trafford Guvnor, came from a similarly bleak *background.
Morrison’s value as a rehabilitated role model would be immeasurable.
On the pitch, great players are defined by the quality of the decisions they take, under pressure.
Off it, the same principle applies.
There are small signs of hope, but the choice is *Morrison’s.
For his sake, pray he makes the right one.