In an upstairs room of his home office, on the edge of the Ribble Valley, there is a framed photograph on David Moyes's wall of a time when everything about Wayne Rooney's life seemed so much more innocent.
It is an old Daily Mirror shot from 2002 as a 17-year-old Rooney celebrates a late winner under the floodlights at Leeds United, a couple of weeks after the more famous goal against Arsenal. Rooney is mid-air, photographed from behind, as he leaps in front of the away end. He is an Evertonian celebrating with his own and, as a show of togetherness, it is such a great picture Moyes kept it on view even when his relationship with Rooney had strayed dangerously close to the point of disintegration. Whatever their differences, however embittered it became, Moyes always felt supremely proud about bringing through a player of such uncommon gifts.
The Moyes-Rooney dynamic is certainly a complex one given that Everton's manager employed lawyers because of passages in the player's 2006 book, My Story So Far, and the paradox that Manchester United have now appointed a replacement for Sir Alex Ferguson who has successfully sued one of the team's star players. It is a first and though the two have subsequently made up, instigated by a telephone call from Rooney, whether there are any lingering politics and whether Moyes has the appetite to keep a player who is plainly agitating to leave, is another issue entirely.
Moyes certainly has a considerable problem waiting in his inbox at a time when he has not even been given the code to Old Trafford's gates but must already be getting a taste of why Ferguson, in his formative years in Manchester, used to say the size of the club was difficult to comprehend for outsiders. Moyes will quickly learn that when a story breaks at Old Trafford the newspapers clear their back pages and the television crews descend on Sir Matt Busby Way in a way that rarely happens at Goodison Park.
In this case Rooney's latest transfer request certainly leaves an unappealing sense of deja vu bearing in mind this is the second time in three seasons he has sought to cut himself free and it is only a few weeks ago that he was employing people to pass on the information that he would be happy to sign a new contract this summer.
Instead it turns out the truth is something completely different, Rooney has been having us on again and he actually went to see Ferguson a couple of weeks ago to tell him he had endured enough unhappiness and would be better off somewhere else. Ferguson, we are told, made it clear it would be United's decision, not the player's, and now Moyes has to wade through all the politics and work out, in tandem with Ferguson, what should be done.
A manager in Moyes's position, trying to establish authority in a new dressing room, might be tempted to usher Rooney straight to the door and, gauging the reaction of many supporters to the latest development, it is increasingly clear it would not be held against him. On the last occasion Rooney asked for a transfer, the mood was of genuine shock, followed by outrage and anger. This time it is very different. Weary disdain, is probably the best way to put it.
At the same time, this is still a player who has scored 197 times for the club, making him fourth in their all-time list, and contributed 16 goals in 31 starts and seven substitute appearances this season. That, more than anything, has to be the starting point for Moyes: how seriously would it hurt United if they were to let Rooney leave and reiterate the club does not bend for anyone?
Perhaps it will not be necessary and the change of manager might actually help to soothe whatever is eating away at Rooney given that a significant part of it stems from his erratic relationship with Ferguson. But then, it is not an easy thing to work out what passes through Rooney's mind sometimes, whether it is all a scam for more money, why he should feel so dissatisfied in the first place, and whether he has the faintest appreciation of knowing when he is on to a good thing.
Ferguson has already broken his usual policy of moving out any mutinous player, going back to the last time Rooney asked for a move in October 2010. Behind the scenes, however, it is fair to say their relationship has not been the same since and – here's the thing – that the relevant people acknowledge Rooney, for all his qualities, is not the player he was.
Ferguson let it out to one of his associates earlier in the season, criticising Rooney's attitude and the general sense that he was not making enough of himself. One of the senior players at Old Trafford has also confided, off the record and with considerable reluctance knowing how United prefer to keep everything in-house, that he is taken aback by the way Ferguson and Rooney can be towards one another and the atmosphere it sometimes leaves.
At least this time Rooney has had the good sense not to engage Ferguson in a public relations war, having previously discovered that he was picking a fight with the wrong man. He ended up with a new contract on that occasion and, though the leaked figures were of a weekly £180,000 salary, it later emerged that it might have been substantially more. Manchester City, for one, had a vested interest bearing in mind they had been keen to coax Rooney away, not least as their transfer negotiator of the time, Brian Marwood, has a long-standing business relationship with the player's adviser, Paul Stretford. City's information was that Rooney earns around £300,000 a week, which makes him the best-paid footballer in the country.
Rooney's sympathisers might point out his ego is bound to have been bruised by his removal as United's mandatory first-choice striker since the arrival of Robin van Persie. They might also argue that Ferguson requires him these days to operate as a glorified odd-job man – in attack, midfield, the link man, or out wide – and that a player of his reputation will plainly have been aggrieved not to start against Real Madrid in the game that will now be remembered as Ferguson's last in Europe.
Rooney's conversation with Ferguson came a few days after United's 2-2 draw at West Ham last month when he was partly accountable for both the opposition's goals and a substitution waiting to happen. Ferguson subsequently talked about Rooney's place being endangered by Shinji Kagawa and his expectation that the Japan international will flourish next season.
Then there is the scrutiny on Rooney's physical condition culminating in a letter being circulated by his lawyers to warn newspapers that any suggestion he was overweight or out of condition would be considered actionable. Rooney himself has talked before about turning up for one pre-season several pounds too heavy. Moyes has his own stories about the player's dietary habits going back to their days together at Goodison, when he once had to rebuke the young Rooney for his fondness of sausages and eating past 9pm. A decade on, Moyes has a new set of problems with an old source of problems. Some more straight talking might be needed.