He will arrive as the most famous person ever to play in the MLS but, contrary to reports on both sides of the Atlantic, he's hardly the best player to grace the 11-year old league. Beyond the narrow confines of the English tabloids, would anybody rank him ahead of Hristo Stoichkov, Carlos Valderamma, Lothar Matthaus, Roberto Donadoni, Hugo Sanchez or even Youri Djorkaeff? What separates him from those illustrious predecessors is that he speaks English as a first language, boasts a glamorous wife beloved of the American entertainment press, and has a legion of ancillary sponsors who will spend millions persuading the public this guy really matters.

"Beckham brings his soccer game for the ages to America, " gushed one of the correspondents on ESPN News last Thursday night. A report filled with highlights of free-kick goals, it conveniently ignored the fact his (always limited) game has been on the serious wane.

There was no mention of his fall from grace at Real Madrid or his recent demotion from the England squad in which - dead balls apart - he'd become largely a passenger this past few years.

The feel-good and wholly unrealistic narrative put in place by the Beckham handlers was already in full effect.

"I want to take soccer in the US to another level, " said Beckham. "I think it can go higher in America than anyone can believe. There are so many kids playing baseball, american football and basketball in the US. Soccer is huge all around the world except in America and that's where I want to make a difference with the kids."

More American children play soccer than any other sport. With organised leagues catering for boys and girls as young as four, an estimated 8 million between the ages of 6 and 16 play competitively on a regular basis.

Indeed, the famously rude health of the game at grassroots level means that the very demographic the MLS needs to attract in greater numbers is often too busy playing matches at weekends for its parents to think about bringing them to support a local team. The women's professional league went bust a couple of years ago precisely because of that problem.

This is why the decision of the Los Angeles Galaxy's owners, AEG, to piece together a five-year $250m deal for somebody no longer ranked among the top 100 exponents of his own sport is inexplicable. Apart from generating headlines, it's difficult to see how they hope to recoup that investment. The Galaxy play at the purposebuilt Home Depot Centre Stadium. In a league where average attendance hovers around the 16,000 mark, they usually draw around 20,000 to a venue that seats just four thousand more. That a grassy slope behind one goal accommodates 3,000 extra fans if so required perfectly captures the difference between where Beckham's coming from and where he's going.

"As happy as I am for Tom (Cruise) and Katie (Holmes) and all my Scientology friends, we all need to take a silent birth lesson and let David Beckham bend a few balls in Los Angeles before anointing him the Saviour of American soccer, " wrote David Hirshey, soccer pundit and one-time ghostwriter of a Pele autobiography on Deadspin. com. "Beckham coming to America is great for LA clubs and restaurants, US Weekly and The Star, Adidas, Victoria Beckham (can a slot on Dancing With The Stars be far off? ) and, of course, the haircare industry. As for the MLS, he will clearly put well-toned asses in the seats, at least in his first season, but will he actually raise the level of play? Not by himself."

Hirshey has it just about right. Already highly visible to American audiences via Adidas commercials and magazine advertisements for milk, Beckham will provide infinite fodder for the glossy magazines, the gossip columns and the nightly entertainment shows that already treat him and his wife like some sort of celebrity royalty. Heightening the brand awareness (not a phrase used when discussing Pele, Maradona, Cruyff etc. . ) may sell some jerseys and generate glamorous cover stories in the short term but it's impossible to conceive of how exactly he is going to impact on the sport A far younger and more vibrant league than Pele and George Best's cartoonish NASL of the 1970s, for the MLS to grow its support base significantly, it needs to tap into the enormous Hispanic market. Chivas USA, another Los Angeles team, have already been brought into the league precisely for this purpose but this particular demographic will see right through Beckham's arrival.

More than any other group, Hispanics religiously watch La Primera Liga on satellite TV each weekend so they know full well why the former England captain is about to swap Madrid for the soccer hotbed of Malibu.

The mainstream media can salivate all they want - expect future headlines speculating on Beckham's marriage, flirtation with Scientology, potential as an NFL kicker and ambition to be the next James Bond - but the soccer aficionados are likely to take some convincing his relocation is not solely about money and movies. As with any minority, MLS fans are a pretty committed constituency.

Should the clothes horse be tempted to strut around Home Depot Centre at any point, the Galaxy faithful will be quick to remind him they regard the stadium as "The House that Cobi Jones built".

The former Coventry City winger and the Galaxy's longest-serving player is the man Beckham is most likely to replace on the right side of midfield. By the time Beckham and his entourage (first time that word was ever used in an MLS context) swan into tinseltown, the New York Red Bulls may have splashed some of their cash on a marquee star of their own.

The designated player rule was specifically introduced to allow clubs go outside the strict salary cap in order to attract some of the sport's biggest names. If, as rumoured, the Red Bulls snare Ronaldo or Luis Figo over the next while, that's a sure sign the MLS is harking back to the NASL days and going down a rather worrisome route. Then, Beckham could thrive.

In a league where the average salary is less than $90,000, and some rookie players draw down as little as $11,700 per annum, envious peers may best articulate their feelings towards overpaid superstars through rather robust treatment on the field. Freddy Adu has found that out to his cost and the teenage prodigy earns a mere $500,000 a year.

Regardless of how much of his pay is wrapped up in merchandising tie-ins, opponents won't need reminding Beckham will be trousering twice that much each week. The sort of statistic to make any defender put a little more oomph in the tackle.