On The Premiership:A star never shines more brilliantly than the moment before it dies. A supernova explosion is one of the wonders of the celestial world but, for earth-bound galacticos, there is no big bang to mark the end of days: just a long, excruciating fade into nothingness.
Few players have illuminated football's world stage as brightly as Andriy Shevchenko, but the Ukrainian is virtually burnt out. His faltering, fumbling performances for Chelsea this season have given the lie to Bette Davis's famous line in that salty-tongued study of faded glory, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
"I wish daddy could be here," Davis mutters. "'You can never lose your talent'," he used to tell me. "'You can lose everything else, but you can't lose your talent'."
Well, perhaps Hollywood dames can't, but footballers certainly can. Shevchenko, a former European player of the year and the second highest goalscorer in the history of European club football, is now a pale, sickly imitation of his former self and the tale of how he has plumbed such depths since arriving at Chelsea last summer is enough to make you weep: a tragedy wrapped in a west London farce.
Even Avram Grant, the man brought to Stamford Bridge with the express purpose of bringing out the best in Shevchenko, is losing faith. Having hauled off the forward before the hour in successive Premier League games, he was dropped for the Champions League game in Valencia last week and failed to start at Bolton yesterday. Shevchenko would doubtless be grateful if he never again donned Chelsea blue.
It is always the greatest who tumble hardest. The sight of Shevchenko in full flight, with Serie A's finest scattering in all directions ahead of him, was one of football's greatest spectacles. Now, watching him is a gruesome blood sport, football's answer to seal-clubbing or badger-baiting. It remains compelling, in a sort of grimly macabre way, but where spectators used to gasp in astonishment at Shevchenko's prowess, now they simply groan at his incompetence.
Shevchenko is an intelligent man. He knows how far he has fallen, and how fast: you can see it in his eyes, which have been filled with an uneasy mixture of fear and utter bewilderment ever since he touched down on English soil last summer. He may look as lean and toned as in his Milan heyday, but inside he is broken: a rabbit caught in the glare of harsh, unwelcome floodlights.
There has been the odd flash of inspiration. Shevchenko's goal in the FA Cup quarter-final replay at Tottenham Hotspur last season - a jaw-droppingly athletic, audacious strike, thrashed first-time into the top corner from a 50-yard diagonal pass - was as sublime as any he has ever scored. But rather than reawaken Shevchenko's inner genius, such moments have merely added to his fug of befuddlement.
How can someone so good become so bad, so quickly? It is not all Shevchenko's fault, of course. It was his misfortune to be shoe-horned into Chelsea palpably against the wishes of his manager Jose Mourinho, who duly proved his reputation as the Spiteful One by treating Sky's television cameras to his whole gamut of facial expressions - from angst-ridden to vexed - whenever his stumbling forward fluffed his lines. Such brutal treatment was never likely to do much for his confidence.
And it is unfair to expect Shevchenko to withdraw himself from the firing line. Elite sportsmen are notoriously blinkered when it comes to identifying their own weaknesses - inevitably so, given they surround themselves with people who continually tell them how wonderful they are. But surely at least one of Shevchenko's army of advisers could have a quiet word in his shell-like and persuade him that everyone would be best served by a parting of the ways.
There is, of course, one insurmountable obstacle to such a smooth farewell, and that is Roman Abramovich. Nobody has invested more in Shevchenko than the Russian, and his stake is worth considerably more than the €43 million it took to prise him away from Milan. One of the biggest reasons behind his decision to allow Chelsea's most successful manager to walk away was his failure to spark with Shevchenko and Abramovich would look a fool if his prized player then chose to follow his tormentor through the Stamford Bridge exit door.
But it is time for Abramovich to swallow his pride. With every passing week, the memories of Shevchenko's former glories grow more faint and the disgruntlement with his present travails ever more pointed. The Russian should do the decent thing and allow him one final hurrah in his beloved Italy, or even at the club where it all began, Dynamo Kiev.
Otherwise, it won't just be Abramovich who will be wondering whatever happened to Andriy Shevchenko.
