It is said that when Michael Schumacher spins his car at 180mph he is able to do many things.

From adjusting his engine speed and making due-course arrangements to accelerate away from the verge, to consider his next hairdressing appointment and what pudding wine to have with supper. His metabolism really is that slow.

Bobby Zamora's style reminds me of this.

Have you noticed, when Bobby gets the ball, how a portion of the Withdean centre circle slides to one side and a five-piece country house band emerges on an illuminated platform playing the theme tune from Chariots of Fire whilst clouds of blue-tinged smoke waft across the pitch and a soft-focus tinge blurs the view?

How the noise of the crowd recedes to a gentle soundtrack and the players start moving in slow motion?

Well, not all the players. Only Bobby, who seems to be able to find so much time for himself that he is able to adopt an air of half-speed langour before laying the ball off and loping away for his next move.

This amazing trick of not appearing to try very hard is rare at any level. Even Premiership players are framed in little halos of their own sweat as they rush hither and, as needs demand, thither.

The only other Albion player I can recall with this ability to waft around was Mark Lawrenson, a man who only ever ran at one speed - fairly slow - but who was able to outpace almost anyone by the simple expedient of increasing the length of his stride.

Whilst modest little men from famous old clubs screamed alongside him at peak revs, Mark would simply engage overdrive and disappear silently over the horizon, his mind on the pudding wine and the precise location of Peter Ward.

Players like these shouldn't be confused with the ones that appear not to be trying very hard mainly because they are not trying very hard.

Quite a few of these have worn blue and white over the years. Most are not worth thinking about, but there is a small sub-category deserving mention: the ones that didn't rush about because they were very old and very clever and didn't have to.

Frank Worthington was a good example and I vaguely remember Martin Chivers playing against Leyton Orient. Mart just stood there, moving around even less than transport caf gravy.

A gale was blowing and this vast man just stood there. He looked like Beachy Head lighthouse and was just as effective, scoring one goal, making others and deservedly winning man of the match. At the end he just went to the bar for a drink. He didn't need a shower and, unless my memory's playing tricks, had played the whole game wearing a suit.

Bobby could be as famous as him one day. Not yet, because he's still learning and his tricks don't always come off and he hasn't yet calculated how to retaliate without the ref seeing - which is why he isn't playing on Boxing Day.

The RSPCA kennels at Patcham are full of tiny dogs with very big feet,hinting at their size to come. Bobby is only 19 but look at his feet. They really are huge.