THE question of greatness is a thorny issue for sportswriters to address.

When does a merely very good performer become an all-time great, and is greatness in one sport comparable to greatness in another?

In most of the eulogies that accompanied Michael Schumacher's retirement from formula one at the weekend, the sport's most successful driver of all time was described as a great, yet I can't help but feel a little uncomfortable with the unqualified praise that has been lavished on him.

Statistically, there is no question that Schumacher towers above all who have gone before him. His seven world titles take him two clear of the legendary Juan Manuel Fangio, while more than 90 grand prix wins are almost as many as Alain Prost and Ayrton Senna combined.

In many ways, Schumacher's successes were down to the force of his will. Yes, he often drove the best car on the grid, an advantage that inevitably raises questions of whether a formula one driver is only ever as great as the machinery enclosing him.

But the German's great strength was that he seemed to persuade other drivers of his superiority even when it was not immediately apparent from the times on the track.

He had an aura that smacked of greatness, an impression that here was a driver so skilled that resistance to his urgings from the cockpit was futile.

Crucially, that sense of a pre-ordained destiny also transmitted itself to his technicians and engineers in the Ferrari paddock.

Despite his fame and fortune, Schumacher was always the driver that put in the most miles of testing and the most hours of poring over technical readings in the garage. His dedication was unquestionable and, as a result, those around him felt compelled to redouble their efforts in a bid to shave off the crucial half second that was regularly the difference between success and failure.

Dedication is undoubtedly a facet of greatness - think of the endless hours Sir Steve Redgrave spent on the water - but so is control. And it is here that the one unedifying blemish on Schumacher's record can be found.

Even the seven-time champion's most ardent supporters would admit that he occasionally crossed the line that separates ruthlessness from rule-breaking.

There is nothing wrong with wanting something more than the next man but there is something unsavoury about wilfully flouting a sport's laws to further your own selfish ends.

Would a true sporting great have collided with either Damon Hill or Jacques Villeneuve in an attempt to deprive them of the drivers' title? Would he have felt the need to intentionally stall at Monaco this year to prevent rival Fernando Alonso from clinching a crucial pole position?

I would like to think not. It is naive to assume sporting greatness must come with an absence of strings attached, but I still find myself clinging to the perhaps outdated notion that the very, very best do not pursue illicit advantages when their ability alone is sufficient to succeed.

Schumacher couldn't help himself, and that is why he will remain good, rather than great, in the eyes of this observer.

A month or so ago, The Northern Echo was rightly chastised for failing to flag up Gail Emms and Nathan Robertson's success in the world badminton championships mixed doubles.

Fortunately, we were rather better at spotting Beth Tweddle's victory on the uneven bars at gymnastics' world championships last Friday, a success that led Nora Fletcher to write in claiming that: "Beth's performance was the best given by a British sportsman or woman in the last six years. You might not have missed it, but it seems like a lot of people did".

Sadly, the same can be said for Nicole Cooke's achievement in becoming the world's number one female road cyclist and winner of the Grande Boucle, the women's version of the Tour de France.

One also imagines that Zara Phillips' position as world eventing champion would not have been celebrated quite so readily had she not boasted royal genes.

The three successes might have slipped under the sporting radar somewhat, but they give lie to the argument that this has been a dreadful year for British sport. It hasn't - you just have to look a little further for the glory.

There was a time when Newcastle's football team was known as "The Entertainers" based on their propensity to help out their opponents as well as their prodigious attacking skill.

The phrase appears redundant now that goals have become hard to come by at St James' Park but, rather than disappearing, it has merely been displaced a few miles up the A167.

With Newcastle Falcons boasting three midfielders (Jamie Noon, Mathew Tait and Toby Flood) in Andy Robinson's England squad, the club can rightly be proud of one of the most exciting backlines in the country.

Sadly, though, just as Kevin Keegan's men suffered from an inability to perform the basics, so John Fletcher's squad continues to suffer from a lack of power in the pack. Until that is rectified, they will continue to miss out on the game's big prizes as well.