Robin van Persie adds the perfect finishing touch to his Faustian pact…

Rarely has a single moment so cruelly encapsulated the sad demise of brilliantly talented footballer.

Robin van Persie's own goal against the Czech Republic is utterly mesmerising. Unlike like most calamitous gaffes on the football pitch, there is nothing slapstick about it. There is no spasmodic fling of a limb, nor is there a comical tumble or fall. It is not Steven Gerrard or John Terry slipping in cartoon fashion. You cannot add a Benny Hill chase track or comedy trombone to it. Instead it is a much slower and crueller moment. That doesn't make it any less amusing to anyone who isn't Dutch, of course; if anything it makes the dark joy of revelling in someone else's misfortune all the more delicious. It looks so staged. Each player in the scene looks so resigned - Van Persie most of all. The prevailing sense seems to be: 'Well, it is done. The horrible thing has happened.' The goalkeeper, Jeroen Zoet, doesn't even check his gaze. Whenever there is a fall from grace, there is a temptation to describe the situation as 'Faustian', a comeuppance for previous good fortune. The description is often lazy and trite. But there is something so irresistibly apt in the case of Van Persie. It is no exaggeration to describe him as the one of the most technically gifted centre-forwards of his generation. But there is a reason why so many laughed so mercilessly at Tuesday's schadenfreude. By rights, the loud guffaws should have been matched with admiration and pity. Zinedine Zidane's darkest, most foolish moment only heightened the love may felt for him. Why not Robin van Persie? Why not afford a man who has elicited so many gasps of wonder the same privilege? One suspects the reasons are two-fold. Firstly, Van Persie's lasting legacy is perhaps that of a brilliant gun for hire. Despite a 14-year career spanning only four clubs, his stunning peak was brief and divided between two great rivals. Secondly, there is the reaction. Zidane was consumed with rage after insults towards his family; Gazza weeped vulnerable tears after naive idiocy. Van Persie looked to the ground and stood up. Both point to a detachment that many either can't relate to or positively resent. Everything about Van Persie's career has been clinical - his finishing, his choices and his demeanour. Despite his famous suggestion that he joined Manchester United from Arsenal because the little boy inside him screamed for him to do so, it was the very logical, cerebral thing to do. When Sir Alex Ferguson retired and was replaced by David Moyes, it didn't go well. Many feel that Van Persie did little to help the new man, and indeed actively hindered him. If the player's intention was to outlast the hapless new coach and wait for a worthy mentor, it worked. Moyes was sacked within a year. Like everything, it was purely business. Arsenal fans hate a player they once truly adored; Man United fans, in general, are forever grateful to the man who almost single-handedly gifted them a 20th league title. They are grateful, but do they love Van Persie? Would they call him a hero? Does he epitomise what it means to be a Manchester United supporter? Eric Cantona, George Best, Roy Keane, Paul Scholes, Patrice Evra - each deified, none perfect, most deeply flawed. But all loved, not merely thanked. Van Persie did the whole 'Veni, Vidi, Vici' thing at United. In the process he left behind a compilation of some of most beautiful goals that Old Trafford has known. He was an excellent acquisition. But ultimately he broke Arsenal hearts, and never quite won them at United. Thus his rapid fall from grace at Fenerbahce and for the Dutch is widely relished and seldom mourned. His was a Faustian pact. He won his treasured title, and maybe that's enough. He is Michael Corleone, and it was all strictly business - even if that meant hurting the ones who needed him the most. One of the most tragicomic aspects of his own goal was that he is such a masterful technician that it wasn't possible for him to fail ugly. The header was beautifully cushioned and perfectly placed - it was almost worth celebrating. The real pity is that beyond the laughter, too few actually cared for a man who brought so much joy.