When the 23-man squad for South Africa is announced by Pim Verbeek with his familiar Dutch twang and singular facial expression - directly beneath one of the most distinguishable hairstyles in Australian sport - he will inevitably call out the name of Brett Holman.

And while there won't be a great deal of consternation among the gathered press at that moment, one can expect a universal groan among a great majority of bloggers, fans and forumites at the reading of Holman's name, quickly complemented by the most witty of remarks about his previous hair-cuts, poor goal-scoring record and general ineptitude on the international stage.

My view on Holman is thus: if Dick Advocaat - an honorary citizen of St Petersburg and a man more experienced, qualified, savvy and knowledgeable in football than most of Australia's top personalities both on and off the pitch - thinks the 25 year-old is worthy of regular first-team football in the Netherlands' top-tier and in the UEFA Champions League, then perhaps he ain't all that bad?

Of course, every time Holman proceeds to produce in an attacking capacity on the continent - which he has done before at the highest level based on the limited highlights available - he tends to follow it up with a glaring miss or non-existent half-hour spell in a Socceroos strip.

In all his infinite wisdom and greatness Kevin Airs recently proved he doesn't exist in a time-sealed capsule at FourFourTwo headquarters by managing to bump into me (in real life!), at which point I gave brief mention to the widespread intention of au.fourfourtwo.com followers to, well, erase Brett Holman. Forever.

And while I'm eager to champion the wildest of conspiracy theories and while part of me would love to see some sort of alien/government/Matrix-style invasion of Holman's mind whereby his existence is wiped clean from the annals of human history, I ultimately digress.

Holman performs at the highest of club levels on a weekly basis and is consistent in providing an attacking menace and respectable goal-scoring rate considering he is often not even used as a main striker; in fact, criticism about Holman's weak goal-scoring ratio for the Socceroos comes despite the fact that he is similarly forced into the most taxing and unrewarding of roles by Verbeek.

Speaking to Kevin about the enigma that is Holman, we both searched for an answer to the Jekyll and Hyde transformation he suffers when swapping club and country; a figure of suave and sophistication at Alkmaar, he tends to lose all the composure and fluency that has marked a promising career in Europe.

We momentarily empathized with the mental workings of the Alkmaar man and flirted with the idea that he simply allows the pressure to get to him on the international stage - here's hoping for a 'Being John Malkovich' style film which descends into the depths of the midfielder's mind to end the debate.

For the moment one needs to be content with the fact that the praise for Holman comes from the people that matter; Tim Cahill sung his praises when questioned about his lack of form in front of goal for the national team ahead of the recent scoreless draw with the Netherlands and Verbeek would be quick to do the same.

Why is it then that Australia's most popular footballer can appreciate Holman's talents, while his followers cannot? Ultimately it is players like Cahill and Kewell who benefit from the selflessness of players like Holman on the international stage.

One cannot underestimate the value of having an individual willing to run himself into the ground, whether it be as a member of the starting XI or when given brief spurts in an attempt to run down matches - and regardless of how poor his "touch" is.

Granted, his will not always be the most conspicuous of contributions, nor the most aesthetically pleasing (despite the fact that Holman is a smooth footballer at club level) and for that reason he is polarized by Socceroo fans. We are perhaps collectively spoiled as a generation of football followers in an age of Viewer's Choice, UEFA Champions league saturation and wonderfully-staged advertisements al serving to combine with an aggressive dogma about the need to play "good football".

Yes, Kewell and Bresciano will bring in the crowds and sell jerseys but without the likes of Holman doing the dirty work in the background, such individuals are not allowed to flourish - though it is highly unlikely we'll be seeing the latter in the latest Nike campaign, curling a ball through a laser-zone and into the top-right hand corner of a net DJ-d by Fernando Torres.