HERE'S Shuggy.

Just when you thought it was safe to retire to the comfort station without my face beaming out at you on a Saturday ... I am at the door, bludgeoning it with ill-formed comment and wooden humour.

There was an outbreak on anti-social media about my departure from this bailiwick. One tribute trickled in. It was from a colleague asking if she could have my Wimbledon accreditation.

John, the column's resident psychiatrist, diagnosed other comments as a mass outbreak of wish fulfilment. But I am only gone in the colloquial sense that refers to quality of writing, power of intellect and control of bladder.

The Herald now has me on contract when once editors had a contract on me.

This self-indulgent patter serves two purposes: it drives this limping, stumbling excuse for a column towards a conclusion worthy of Dignitas and it also leads ever so seamlessly into the topic of the day.

The subject for consideration is the contract, specifically for Raheem Sterling, a footballer. The Liverpool player stands all of 5ft 7in. If he climbs on to his wallet after successful contract negotiations, he will be able to examine Peter Crouch's dandruff.

His alleged wage demands have produced a lather on anti-social media and elsewhere. Sterling, at 20, wants a sum of about £150,000 a week to continue to kick an inflated sphere with other young men.

There have been two basic objections to his request. The first is that he has shown no loyalty, the second is that he is not worth it.

Let us deal with them in turn. The loyalty argument is about as relevant as a LibDem candidate in a Scottish election. It not only misses the point. There is no point.

If loyalty existed between player and club, it would proceed along bi-partisan lines.

That is, if the academy player who had been at the club since he was 11 fell short of the standard required, the club would say: "Listen, you have been loyal to us and we will be loyal to you. You have proved you are not a Premiership striker but stick around, we will give you a wage and you can play right-back when we are away to Colchester in the League Cup. On other days, you can talk to the club telly station, open supermarkets, have an affair with a soap star and start rows on Twitter just like a normal first-team player."

The other argument concerning worth is so easy to demolish it could be the Cowdenbeath defence on a day it faces Hearts.

The matter of worth in respect of salary is such an old-fashioned notion that it comes from the days when there were three television channels, smoking at work was not only allowed, it was mandatory, and parents treated children as if they were sparring partners, a superbout was approaching with Floyd Mayweather and they had to hone their combinations.

Old players were loyal because they had to be so. Clubs held their registrations. Players could only leave when it suited their employers. They were paid what their employers wanted to pay them. Players, too, who shouted loyalty from the rooftop were normally the ones nobody else wanted.

It is different now. Freedom of contract allows players and their agents to enter what is quaintly called the marketplace.

One may insist that Sterling is not worth £150,000 a week. But this jars with reality when someone who has the dosh wants to pay him it.

There can be an argument over whether Sterling is a top-class player but there is none over the likelihood of a chief executive - maybe in Madrid - presenting him with a contract that gives him in excess of £8million a year.

When this sort of sum is handed over to entrepreneurs, traders or bankers, the cry from the top of government is that these people create jobs or wealth or add to the greatness of the nation.

Yet when a 20-year-old from a working-class background is on the verge of trousering such sums, he is a greedy sod who only kicks a ball.

It also ignores the reality that Sterling is being offered such sums for commercial reasons.

He is a star -however callow, however untried - of a league that has signed a £5bn contract to be on a box near you.

Sterling is a survivor of a system that is brutal, weeding out hopefuls with all the delicacy of a fishwife attending to the innards of a harbour full of haddock. He has placed all his bets on becoming a professional footballer at the top end of the scale. He has succeeded and wants his money.

One may find this all a bit garish, all a bit mercenary. But the clue to its existence may be found in the observation that football can be preceded by the word professional.

Sterling wants to be paid the market rate. This is the basis for all contractual agreements, even mine.

It is why my remuneration is placed in a polystyrene cup every week while Raheem's will be placed in a very large barrow.

And who can argue at the justice of that?

Hugh MacDonald will be chairing 'The State of the Scottish Football Nation' event at the Aye Write festival on Monday, April 20, featuring Ron Ferguson, Aidan Smith, Alan Bissett and Stuart Donald, Tickets: www.ayewrite.com