Whether you're a fan of Kewell, Viduka or Cahill from the modern era, an aficionado of the silky elegance of Okon or Zelic, an admirer of the indomitable spirit of Tobin and Kosmina, are old enough to remember why Ray Baartz was so highly rated, or have misty-eyed recollections of the great Reg Date, ask yourself how many of those players would have held a regular spot in the Liverpool side of the 1980s?

Then, my friends, you have an idea of just what level Craig Johnston raised his game to.

Johnston has always been an enigmatic sort of character, never quite fitting the mould and admirably never afraid to venture an opinion. I can't recall it ever being done in a pompous or arrogant way, and inevitably it has been done with the welfare of the code at its core.

Johnston has always been self-effacing and modest about his talent, but never afraid to paint a picture of his work ethic, drive and desire.

His assertion that "I was the worst player in the best team in the world" has always appealed to me, though I think he's probably being a harsh marker.

In keeping with that line of thought, I would relate to you the analysis of a wise colleague of mine, who uses the comparison of staging a concert in a hall to the make-up of a good football team.

His analogy reasons that you must have the proportionate number of piano carriers to piano players. No good having 11 people capable of carrying the piano and no one to play it.

Alternatively, it's no good having three or four talented players and not enough workers to carry the piano into the hall for them to perform on.

I witnessed first hand what a good player and fabulous athlete Johnston was when he guested for "KB" United in the early '80s.

I can remember our skipper Craig Mason, a hard-nosed Englishman not given to being star-struck, waxing lyrical and saying to me: "Lowey, if everyone in this team picked their best quality, he'd be better at it," which was his level at that stage.

So "Johnno", if you are not the most talented Australian player ever, you are very likely the most effective at a consistently high level. Oh, and if Dalglish and Souness are two of my favourite "virtuosos", you are one of the best "piano carriers" I've ever seen!

And a "piano carrier" with a good deal of common sense and a forthright opinion.

Johnston was heading into a debate, unfortunately shortened by time constraints, that had the portent of a classic battle of philosophies with SBS analyst Craig Foster.

Foster is an advocate of teaching players to play a certain style and system.

Johnston, I sensed, held the more pragmatic view of using the assets of your best players, whatever they may be.

What Johnston did allude to was the fact that we tend to gloss over the basic as we search for a fast track to success. His description of his daily routine and work ethic must have surely caused a few jaws to hit the floor.

I was delighted at his insistence on the importance of basic skills.

As those who have had the misfortune or fortune to attend a coaching session run by yours truly can attest, touch and feel for the ball, and accuracy and weight of pass is everything in football.

If you can't pass the ball 10 metres accurately or control it at the other end, what formation or system is going to help you?

I also had a very interesting chat with another man who has operated at a high level in football through the week.

It happened at the big golf event for 2009, the Jets golf day, where I was partnered with Fabio Vignaroli, his minder, interpreter and "bodyguard" Andrew Licata, and event co-ordinator and gregarious host, Sandra Gilbert, at the lovely Pacific Dunes course.

Licata gave me a reminder of my Marconi playing days, when mishits brought on several bouts of "colourful Italian dialogue", while Fabio laughed his way through his first-time golf experience. Fortunately, the vivacious Sandra was very tidy around the greens, and your scribe hit it OK.

It was a great day, Fabio is a friendly and interesting man, and as his English and my comprehension improve, I hope to shed a little light on his footballing philosophy.

Another day.