Indeed, it’s significant that, despite all the grisly headlines, bust-ups and breakdowns, it was Stan who called time on his playing days and not the last in a long line of clubs prepared to believe in him, Spanish outfit Real Oviedo.

Now big Stan is talking up a return which sounds about as convincing as Bjorn Borg’s comeback with his old wooden racket.

And yet. And yet because it is Stan, and because everyone knows what he COULD have done, there will be plenty of coaches out there daring to believe, against all their better instincts, that it might be worth a crack.

You can’t blame them. The kind of football gifts which were bestowed upon this tormented soul are rare in any generation. Think of the young, galloping Ronaldo at the 1998 World Cup and you can get an image of how good Collymore should have been.

Nature always seems to curse the gifted with a self-destruct chip, however, and Collymore’s was particularly devastating.

What some of his managers regarded as a maverick nature undermined by laziness and arrogance, Collymore insisted was a relentless battle against manic depression.

This was finally brought to the fore during his spell at Villa, where so many prayed so hard for Collymore to deliver on his extraordinary abilities.

It was a disaster for which some will blame his managers, Brian Little and then chief adversary John Gregory, who had no time for talk of depression from a £20,000-a-week footballer, but, ultimately, Collymore knows he exhausted patience and understanding.

To this day, it remains a huge regret for every lover of football that the English game was deprived of a player good enough to have conquered the global stage.

It is that longing, that aching sense of unfulfilled potential, which you always suspected would haunt Collymore even more – and that, I imagine, is what is driving this latest claim for “one more chance.”

Either that or it is a man desperate for a little publicity.

I’ve never known Collymore be anything other than charming, courteous, engaging and articulate.

And I would love a ticket to that perfect fantasy world where he did complete a spectacular comeback and revelled in one last shot of footballing glory.

But that’s the world of Melchester Rovers and cartoon strips in the tabloids.

Stan might get himself fit enough to play alongside Roy Race, but I’m afraid the game he could have conquered has gone long past the Collymore era.

What I fear we are really hearing is the first cry of deep regret from the man who could have been king – but remained a footballing pauper.

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