Just what expectations Harry Kewell fulfils in the A-League lie in the eye of the beholder. Undoubtedly, his first season with Melbourne Victory will be entwined in much public debate. It will be subject to conjecture and fodder for argument.

From wherever one stands, or to whatever degree their sporting interest, it will be a discussion borne through expectation.

The question for now, and until that first ball is played, is what should we expect?

Given the gratingly drawn-out transfer saga this northern summer that eventually brought Kewell to Australia, tinges of cynicism were bound to emerge from football's naysayers and theatre-goers. And they did. Apparently, Kewell is too old, past his best, not worth the pay-packet, greedy, self-serving, over-rated, a sook ... and even un-Australian.

For those spruiking such unedifying opinions, I ponder what, beyond pharmaceutical means, will aid their forming an opinion of his true relevance come December. Likely nothing. As wonderful a sporting landscape that Australia projects, there is always the cigarette butt in the gutter, the weed in the lawn. Football fans would do well to leave them be.

Similar cynicism can be found among some tabloid media types, particularly those drawing the short straw between Football or Kabul correspondent. They will bide their time, pensively awaiting the glorious anecdote of the unsigned seven-year-old's jersey, or the riot of a half-dozen people in the railway underpass post game.

To them, Kewell not scoring a brace each week, not playing a full ninety minutes, or not leading his side to win after win, will be manna from Heaven.

Those true fans of football, and sport in general, will take a broader view.

Harry Kewell is nigh on 33. His groin is not what it was. His injury history is extensive, yet presently stable. His mind is clear, his heart, as ever, is swollen with pride in performance, and his technique remains near perfect. Harry Kewell is the greatest footballer Australia has produced. And he's come home.

A quick study of the Melbourne Victory squad for this season finds a breadth of attacking options: the most prolific forward pairing in A-League history, Archie Thompson and Danny Allsopp, championship-winning Brisbane Roar goal-poacher Jean-Carlos Solorzano, his Costa Rican countryman and fan favourite Carlos Hernandez, Kiwi prodigy Marco Rojas, and the walking-talking Grand Finalist Tom Pondeljak. That Kewell now belongs to such a squad does temper expectation, somewhat, and therein lies the beauty of his decision.

Mehmet Durakovic has the unenviable task of drafting a first-team from the above list, but fortuitously, much of his work has already been done. We have seen that days of Harry Kewell leading the line are behind him. Given the physically-dominating style of many of the A-League's centre-halves and holding midfielders, and his own injury profile, his body will no longer allow him to play with his back to goal, from whence the repeated hacking from behind by Durante, Colosimo et al. is assured.

Similarly, Brisbane's tactical epiphany last term, and the pressing style employed by Central Coast, among others, purposefully serve to reduce the space required for a centrally-positioned forward to turn on the ball.

As a trequartista, interplay and tracking opposition runs defensively are vital. An exhausted Kewell at the half is not high on the list of Victory's match-day aims.

That leaves the wide role; the very same one which led to Kewell's face adorning the walls of the Elland Road faithful all of a decade ago. Speed? Check. First touch? Check. Precise decision-making? Check. Comfortable running at defences? Check. Ability to cross with repeated accuracy? Fits with Durakovic's re-worked formation?

Check.

As an attacker on the left flank, Kewell will not lead the scoring table. Nor will he need to. He will play high minutes, bewilder full-backs, and prove his true value to a football team today.

We should expect nothing more from Harry Kewell than what his coach requires. His presence in Australia transcends football, yes, but not at the expense of reality.