Marcus Rashford has joined Aston Villa on loan with an option for a permanent move. Photo courtesy of Aston Villa FC

Paul Kennedy

There’s nothing more self-satisfying than being able to tell someone: “I told you so.”

It really is the pinnacle of smugness.

Doubted for so long, and then finally proven right, hearing those four words is like listening to The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper album for the very first time. Music to your ears.

This week, footballing enigma Marcus Rashford has been given the chance to prove his doubters wrong.

Once held up as the poster boy of Manchester United, an academy graduate and die-hard United fan, he was tipped for big things when he burst onto the scene having joined the club when he was just seven years old.

Seeing greatness in the local lad, United rewarded Rashford with a bumper contract, reported to be somewhere in the region of $400,000 a week.

That’s when things started to go wrong.

Rashford’s form nose-dived and he became a shadow of his former self. There were reports of off-the-field antics and a complete lack of effort on the training ground.

New United coach Ruben Amorim clearly wasn’t a fan, and decided enough was enough, shipping Rashford out on loan to Aston Villa in the latest transfer window.

Rashford is now in last chance saloon. At 27, he’s no longer the spring chicken overflowing with youthful energy.

I’ve no doubt there’s still a decent footballer there, it’s just proving very difficult to find right now.

Amorim couldn’t do it, and neither could Erik ten Hag before him at Old Trafford.

That responsibility now lies with Villa’s Unai Emery, who strikes me as a coach that doesn’t suffer fools.

But really the buck stops with Rashford himself. It’s up to him to knuckle down, avoid any outside distractions and concentrate on regaining his form and possible regaining his place with the England team.

One concern I hear is that Rashford has chosen not to move to Birmingham, instead opting to stay in Manchester and commute daily.

Now it’s not that far, just an hour or so down the M6 motorway (faster, I’m sure, as Marcus owns a fleet of Rolls Royce cars), but it still doesn’t bode well.

Time to grow up Marcus, time to prove people wrong and become the footballer you once were.

Time to turn the corner, start banging in the goals and tell the critics who doubted your ability: “I told you so.” VNS