THERE ARE no doubt those who wonder whether Diego Maradona is qualified to run a football team. Given the hair-raising adventures of the 48-year-old to date, I simply wonder whether he is even qualified to be alive. And I wish I was kidding.

Only the late George Best compares. The same prodigious talent; the same inexplicable gift for self-destruction; and the same, heart-warming ability to wind up English defenders. Best fell out, fatally in the end, with the bottle and with his liver. Maradona allowed cocaine to stage a party in his brain until, in 2004, his heart decided to withdraw its labour.

Best never pretended, however, that his superlative football instincts entitled him to tell 11 other men how to play. On a good Saturday he was great fun as a Sky pundit, but there was always a sense that George could never explain genius to anyone, not even to himself. Management, it seems, never crossed his mind.

Maradona, with that 80,000-seater ego, is clearly a different matter. His coaching experience is slight indeed. His temperament is, as they say, "suspect". His health appears - the important word - to be merely reasonable. Yet still he proposes to rescue Argentina from an alarming slump - one win in seven qualifying games - and lead them to South Africa.

This is, of course, loco. As role models go, a reformed drug addict and confessed cheat with well- documented psychological problems does not spring immediately to mind. Maradona, Argentina's captain in 1986, may know what it is like to lead a team to World Cup victory. But he has only coached teams - Deportivo Mandiyu and Racing Club - for a grand total of 28 games, and without any sort of distinction.

Argentina need a hand, God knows (sorry about that), but this appointment smacks of desperation. It feels like a stunt. If you believe reports from Buenos Aires, the fans know it, too. The Argentine Football Association had toyed previously with the idea, a daft one, of appointing a kind of committee of coaches. Instead, in Maradona's inimitable words: "The team is made up of me." That was almost true, once upon a time. It is unlikely to be true now. Indeed, if Carlos Bilardo, his old boss, is on board, the Hand of God will not be allowed to operate single-handed. But who will tell Diego? And if they tell him, will he listen? We may doubt it.

Still, how many coaches sport tattoos of Castro and Guevara? Who else, in an industry terrified of "politics", bellows admiration for Venezuela's Hugo Chavez and detestation for George Bush?

Fondness for Maradona comes easily, certainly in this vicinity.

Before the inevitable disasters his was the original football fairy tale, shanty town to international stage, and it would do the heart good to see him stage the biggest comeback of all.

But is it remotely feasible? Not going on any of the normal preced-ents. Then again, Maradona is not, and has never been, for good or ill, normal. If he has been appointed simply because his national assoc-iation is in a fix and stuck for a better idea, disaster looms. But if talent, unstoppable patriotism and a ruthless desire to win are the criteria he might, just might, surprise everyone yet again. Stranger things have happened, usually to Maradona.

We are told, of course, that great players rarely make for great coaches. When did that myth take root? Granted, generations of merely middling players have gone on to excel in management, as Scots know better than most. Even formerly minor talents such as Arsene Wenger have prospered. Jose Mourinho, a born coach, has no playing credentials whatsoever.

But Cruyff, Keane, Rijkaard, Zola, Strachan, O'Neill? Argue over their respective merits as you please, but each performed at the highest level before attempting to mould younger men, generally lesser lights, into effective units. There is no rule that prevents Maradona from joining the fraternity.

You could argue, indeed, that while some club managers have failed to effect the transition to international coaching, such an environment would suit him. The grind of a domestic season and the mundane Monday morning business of club stewardship would probably bore a Maradona. The World Cup circus is more his style.

He has made a habit, in any case, of defying the odds, as his doctors would no doubt testify. Argentina might have won the world title in Mexico in 1986 without their number 10, but his was the vital spark. Napoli might have defied history and gained dominance over Italian football without their coke-addled genius, but that is not a theory given any credence in the Naples area.

There is no point in pretending, however, that Maradona has banished his demons. Coke may be a thing of the past, but only last year he was hospitalised and given psychiatric treatment for alcohol abuse. This is not an individual built to withstand pressure, nor one who could plaus-ibly impose discipline on others. But still: how often has he beaten the count?

Surging ticket sales for Argentina's encounter with Scotland on the 19th testify to the enduring potency of the Maradona legend. He will not even pick the team at Hampden, but few who care about football will care about that. His uncanny ability to generate goodwill is as powerful as ever. Does that make him a born coach? Obviously not. But it is a reminder that certain people in football, a mere handful, seem capable of defying the rules.

Still, the problems exemplified by the career of Best remain. Recreational vices aside, will Maradona be able to endure the sheer frustration of management? How will he react when his players fail to perform as he once performed, when the things he did without a thought are simply beyond them? Best seemed to regard the puzzle as insoluble. Maradona, at a guess, has not even thought about it.

Still, the idea that England might qualify for South Africa no longer seems like such a bad idea. Perhaps a quarter-final place? Hands up all those in favour.