Andrew Fifield On The Premiership: A strange thing happened mid-way through the second half of Manchester United's squabble with Liverpool on Sunday. Wayne Rooney was rampaging down United's left flank in search of an opening goal when he was tripped by Steven Gerrard. While the England striker sprawled on the turf, the referee Rob Styles calmly waved play on.

A spark of rage flashed across Rooney's face as he leapt to his feet and Anfield waited for the inevitable explosion. But none came. Instead, Rooney simply shook his head and jogged back in search of the ball, the silence broken only by a bemused nation choking on their roast dinners.

It was a curiously restrained end to Rooney's most trying fortnight since he turned professional with Everton in 2002. It began when he aimed a tirade of abuse at his England colleagues David Beckham and Rio Ferdinand during his country's abject surrender to Northern Ireland, and continued a week later when he was sent off for sarcastically applauding the Danish referee Kim Milton Nielsen in United's Champions League tie with Villarreal.

These displays of petulance triggered a predictable wave of grating self-righteousness among his critics, most of whom labelled the striker as an overpaid brat who sets a wretched example to children. But their ire is misplaced. Rooney is not paid to be a role model: he is paid to score goals and to win trophies for Manchester United.

It is unreasonable to expect a 19-year-old to hoist himself onto a pedestal when he is only a few years older than the kids who are supposedly trying to emulate him.

It was not the striker's moral fibre which should have been placed under the microscope, but his rank lack of professionalism. His colleagues maintain that Rooney needs anger to fuel his performances, but when that fieriness flares into out-and-out rage, he resembles the Looney Tunes' Tasmanian Devil - a whir of flailing limbs that destroys everything it touches.

Another common defence for Rooney is his age. But surely it is not unreasonable to expect an international footballer with 25 caps to refrain from telling his captain to "f*** off" in the middle of a World Cup qualifier? Nobody wants Rooney to be an angel, but representing England and Manchester United does bring certain responsibilities. In ignoring them, Rooney seriously impaired his teams' chances.

The debate has now switched to how the forward can mend his ways. The general consensus is that he should attend anger management counselling but this is easier said than done. Professional football may be a more progressive place these days, but it is still an industry which does not readily embrace new methodologies. In this testosterone-fuelled world, psychologists are dismissed as quacks and those who visit them as soft. Best to plough on regardless rather than admit to your own mental failings.

That is why it was so refreshing to hear David James openly trumpeting the use of psychology in the wake of Rooney's outbursts. "A sports psychologist certainly helped me," he said. "People think you must be crackers but I'm a much-improved professional athlete courtesy of my psychology work."

The cynics might suggest that James was not so professional in his preparations - or lack of them - for England's recent friendly with Denmark, but his point is well made. Rooney is a teenage boy carrying the hopes of one of the world's biggest clubs on his shoulders. He represents England's sole chance of making any kind of impression on next year's World Cup. Given his extraordinary circumstances, it would be odd if Rooney did not need a psychologist. To visit one would be a sign of maturity rather than an admission of frailty.

Already it seems that Rooney is learning. If ever there was a game to test his temper, it was United's visit to Anfield - a fierce local spat between two title rivals, all played out in front of a home crowd ever eager to remind Rooney of his off-field indiscretions.

It was also the kind of scrappy, chanceless encounter which traditionally shortens the striker's fuse to a stub: a match where he is forced to forage for possession amid a clutter of bodies rather than being able to gobble up open ground in front of him.

Few would have blamed Rooney for giving in to his frustrations - it would have livened up the game, for a start - but this was one occasion when the boy was not for snapping. Only once, when he took umbrage at a late challenge on Roy Keane, did he allow himself a burst of protest, and even then it was relatively restrained.

Rooney still has a long way to go in order to win back the trust of the footballing public, but he has made a good start. For the sake of his club and country, he must continue to heed his lessons.