THEY are worlds apart when you think about it. In one, the people are generous in victory, humble in defeat, never trash their opponent or point the finger at colleagues. In the other, the blame game’s the only one in town.

In one, everyone plays hard but fair. In the other, it’s non-stop gamesmanship and dirty tricks.

Finally, when their day of honest toil is over, the inhabitants of one world toddle off home content with their modest rewards to enjoy a bland and blameless private life. The other lot always seem to want more, however big the pay-out. They’re rarely a step away from scandal.

Yes, when you think about it, it is amazing that David Miliband could ever think of swapping politics for football.

I was interested to read that the former Foreign Secretary is being considered for a non-executive role with Sunderland.

There was a time when British Foreign Secretaries were the grandest of all grandees.

It’s hard to imagine Lord Curzon, Anthony Eden or Alec Douglas-Home roaring them on at the Stadium of Light.

But times change.

Robin Cook gave racing tips on TV and William Hague prefers baseball caps to bowler hats. As second careers, it is no odder than some chosen by our nation’s leaders That was John Prescott I saw the other night advertising car insurance, wasn’t it?

I wish Miliband well. Sunderland is a forward- looking outfit and if he can use his talents to bring club and community together, good luck to him. I bet his brother’s pleased to see him developing other interests, too.

Because as my opening, tongue-in-cheek, remarks show, politics and football have more in common than you think.

They cause more arguments than any other subjects under the sun. Both have too many prima donnas. Both have spawned huge industries full of hangers-on, analysts, pundits and professional know-alls.

Most importantly of all, football clubs and political parties know that they can always depend on the traditional, tribal loyalties of their supporters. That is why they often treat them with insufficient respect.

When you think about it, a football season is a bit like a political party’s term of office.

It starts in the sunshine with new faces and talents being paraded. Everyone’s hopeful, everyone’s on-side.

Then they start slipping. That new signing – or policy – just isn’t working. There’s whispering in the dressing room or on the back benches. The man in charge, I always said he wasn’t up to it. Some walk away. Some stay and boo.

The league table, or the polls, look bleak.

The awful truth dawns again. Inside the golden boots are feet of clay.

There’s another similarity too, for what it’s worth. Organised professional football and modern party politics both came into being at roughly the same time. It was in an era that saw ordinary people finally get the vote and a bit of leisure time to call their own.

For decades politics and football were rooted in the communities that created them.

Not any more, of course, and politics and football have been playing catch-up ever since, desperately trying to attract new support and resources while staying true to their roots. They’ve spent fortunes, but probably haven’t really solved the problem. That’s why so many stadiums are half-empty on match day and polling stations so quiet at election time.