Patriot for the cause

if he is still excited at having set up the Socceroos' winning goal, upset at being excluded from the post-match party, or burdened by the weight of national expectation ahead of Monday's World Cup showdown, Harry Kewell is not showing it.

It is the early morning after the momentous night before and, already, Australia's heroes are waiting to make the long flight from Melbourne to Montevideo.

Hidden away in the first-class lounge - far from the hustle of Tullamarine's international terminal, where waiting passengers have been so inspired by Australia's performance that they are staging an impromptu game of soccer - he stands waiting patiently in his team tracksuit.

Stoically signing autographs. Politely chatting to awe-struck fans. Casually checking headlines that scream forth news of the nation's new-found obsession.

Harry Kewell, calm and collected. Harry Cool. As coach Frank Farina says admiringly: "He's truly amazing.

"He says he's come out of himself a bit since becoming a father. But he's still a genuinely quiet bloke. A shy bloke. A decent bloke."

And, as many of his compatriots have only now, belatedly, conceded, a fair dinkum, decent Aussie bloke. Not the sort of bloke who would desert his country in its hour of greatest need.

There was always something about Harry. Something very special. Spotted as a 10-year-old playing for his local Sydney team Smithfield Hotspurs, Kewell's extraordinary talent and temperament were immediately apparent, experienced national coach Les Scheinflug recalled recently.

"He could have been a jockey - he was small. But he was already cheeky, full of confidence, with exceptional skill and vision."

A baby-faced soccer assassin. A pint-sized kid, described with admiration by a former Socceroo coach, Frank Arok, as "a little bastard" when he was spotted playing with Marconi.

Barely a year after winning a scholarship to the NSW soccer academy at Parklea, he was trialled and immediately signed up on a Big Brother scheme by top English Premier League club Leeds United.

Such early separation from family and friends can prove too demanding for even the most precocious young players.

"We find boys who live two miles away can get homesick," former Leeds player and coach Eddie Gray said. "Fortunately for us, Harry has a very strong character - stronger than most of the British boys."

He stuck it, strove his hardest to improve and, well, the rest is hysteria.

Now 23, a boyish 23, Kewell has achieved ("earned" is the hard-working word he prefers) much. In fact, almost as much as England's David Beckham, with whom he swims in the "goldfish-bowl" of English football superstardom, constantly under scrutiny, constantly under pressure.

Kewell lives with Sheree Murphy, a star of the English soapie Emmerdale. Has a son called Taylor. Owns a stable of fast cars, including a Ferrari and a Porsche. Is one of the top 10 earners in the Premier League on more than $100,000 weekly.

Earns an estimated $20 million a year in wages and endorsements, for companies involved in pay TV, sportswear and sunglasses. Worth, on the European football transfer market, probably three or four times as much.

Indeed, so great is his market worth that Kewell now reportedly charges as much as $5,000 for exclusive interviews - a controversial practice defended by long-time manager Bernie Mandic, who points out that all the money will go to charities, many of them children's charities based in Sydney.

Harry's footballing wizardry - an ability to conjure something from nothing comparable to that of his namesake Potter - has never been questioned. As teammate Stan Lazaridis said last week: "He is a player who makes a difference." The difference between winning and losing. Between qualifying for the World Cup finals or, the unthinkable, being eliminated. That is why he, alone among the Socceroos it seems, travelled first class to Montevideo.

Nor has his determination and single-minded dedication - borne of his strong western Sydney, working-class upbringing, perhaps - been questioned.

In recent years he has bounced back from injuries, to the ankle especially, that would have devastated less-mature young players.

What has been questioned, however, is his commitment to the Socceroo World Cup cause. As critics point out, before last week's friendly against France, the man touted as "the

nation's hottest sporting property" had played only once in Australia's previous 30 games. It is a criticism that has served to feed Kewell's natural suspicion of the media, be they broadsheets in Sydney or tabloids in London.

Not surprisingly, Leeds have been anxious to protect Kewell from what they consider unnecessary wear and tear, travelling and playing often thousands of kilometres away while on duty for Australia.

The dutiful Kewell, in turn, understands. "I've got a responsibility to Leeds, who gave me my big breakthrough," he said. "I've told them [Soccer Australia] only to call me up when really important games come along."

Cometh this month's really, really important games - matters of new life or near-death for local soccer, some argue - cameth the $20million man. The correct ending has still to be engineered in Montevideo but so far it has been a happy homecoming, for both Harry and the media who harried him in the past.

He even looks like he is enjoying himself, tells jokes at media conferences and promises "tricks" (for example, celebrating a goal by mimicking a cricketer bowling, which was a tribute to his older brother Rod, a cricketer in western Sydney) in forthcoming games.

Suddenly, while Harry is showing - where it really matters, in the green and gold - that he is wild about Australia, so Australia is showing it's mad about Harry. And, significantly, not just Harry. For the first time, it is embracing other members of the "alien nation" team, many of whose names have been hitherto unknown to all but avid followers of what is truly the world game.

Sure, the exploits of Mark Viduka, Kewell's equally expensive co-star in the Leeds United video Wizards of Oz, and possibly veteran Tony Vidmar may have permeated mainstream public sporting consciousness.

But who, before this month, would have expected the Socceroos' other overseas-based players to be embraced as national heroes? Kevin Muscat - "Muskie", as the November intake of new soccer experts now call him - may have earned some notoriety for his hard-man approach. It recently put a Frenchman out of action, prompting posters reading, "Break a leg, Muscat" last Tuesday.

Now, after scoring an all-important goal with a penalty - that was kicked tamely at a keeper who obligingly dived out of the way - he has been put up there on the pedestal with Cathy Freeman, Adam Gilchrist and Lleyton Hewitt. Well, almost.

Similarly, how many, before the heroics at the MCG, could have named Australia's captain (Paul Okon)? Picked out the tall man at the back, who played so well and spoke with a soft, Scottish accent (Craig Moore)? And the big, young bloke who battled away gamely up front (Brett Emerton)?

Household names, every one of them, now.

But for how long? After a nine-month campaign that kicked off with an insane 22-0 victory over no-hopers Tonga in homely Coffs Harbour, it all comes down to an intense 90-minute encounter with a Uruguayan side desperately hungry for success at the hostile Estadio Centenario.

The differences in opposition, venue and, no doubt, score could scarcely be more pronounced.

The big difference on Monday, though, is the presence of Harry Kewell.

Predictably, he missed the match in far northern NSW. But, according to manager Mandic, he has always been passionate about making the Socceroo trip to South America, where as a 17-year-old he made his international debut in the Chilean capital of Santiago.

Kewell is, in the opinion of other judges such as Les Scheinflug and literally at his own insistence, the consummate "big-match player".

And he proved with last Tuesday's performance that he knows they don't come any bigger than this.