No sport likes being forced to take a long, hard look at itself. By its very nature sport is about presenting a positive front, about looking forward rather than agonising over its internal workings. It is all about the product. If English football is currently feeling more than a little uneasy, it is because the trial of those accused of the vicious assault on an Asian student in Leeds has forced it to ask some fundamental questions about itself.

There are no simple answers to those questions. The large and at times obscene sums of money that have been swilling around the game for over a decade now mean that even the modestly talented Premiership player is awash with cash. And in the twisted value system of modern British culture the accumulation of money in that way is directly equated with power. There has also been a breakdown in what used to be rigorously observed codes of discipline and behaviour. The trial of Jonathan Woodgate (found guilty of affray) and Lee Bowyer (cleared of all charges) was merely the most visible symbol of this.

But it does not take a genius to see that much of the current problem can be directly attributed to the abuse of alcohol. In terms of on-the-pitch performance the effects are obvious. But off the field, the ready acceptance of an alcohol culture as part and parcel of the fabric of English football has had its own disastrously negative effects.

A recurring theme of the coverage of the Woodgate and Bowyer story was that the night in question would not have unfolded as it did had it not been for the excessive alcohol intake of those involved. That in itself is not rocket science, but bubbling beneath the surface is the obvious concern that these rich young footballers had the financial wherewithal to pursue such a lifestyle without any sense of the responsibility it carries.

During the heady days of the newly-formed Premiership and the massive injection of satellite television revenue that accompanied it, such worries were made to seem a little po-faced. These were the get-rich times and were in keeping with political and social fashions. Over time those fashions have been subtly changing and some sections of the English media have begun to address the way in which their national game is threatening to eat itself whole.

The jailing of Tony Adams for drink driving was the first real wake-up call, although it was much later that he admitted being an alcoholic. This was followed by coverage of Paul Merson's alcohol and gambling problems. The willingness of both figures to confront their addictions represented a major step forward. Recent events suggest that not everyone was listening.

The broadsheet press certainly adopted a more responsible attitude and Adams proved particularly adept at using the publicity his plight had generated to positive effect. An uncompromising warts-and-all autobiography exposed some many of the shaky foundations propping up modern English football and in the fall-out from last week's trial verdict the Arsenal and England centre half was again offering advice and help to Woodgate and others like him.

But even at this critical time the contradictions inherent in contemporary attitudes to the relationship between sport and alcohol were never too far away. Elsewhere in the same newspaper that carried pages of coverage of the trial of the Leeds United footballers and Adams' sympathetic comments, there was an interview with the Lions and England rugby union prop Jason Leonard. The mood was light-hearted and in truth the piece was little more than an extended advertisement for his recently published autobiography.

But the interesting thing was the recurring theme of alcohol and its place in rugby culture. At one point Leonard names his "top team for drinking and touring", describing one former international team-mate as "great player, good drinker" and another as "an extremely accomplished drinker and comedian". At another he says the attractions of playing rugby for England were "birds and booze". The overall effect is to make all the browbeating and moral indignation that accompanied the coverage of Woodgate and Bowyer seem empty and hollow.

In many ways that confused outlook mirrors our own. Alcohol runs right through the veins of our society and culture, and our sports have not remained immune. The bonds between modern Irish sport and alcohol are deeply rooted. Many GAA clubs revolve around the social centre and bar situated conveniently beside the pitch. Committee meetings and fundraising events are held there, and players and officials tend to gravitate there after training sessions and matches.

The annual tour by underage and minor teams has often been regarded as a drinking rite of passage and it is not unusual for an intercounty team to decamp to a country hotel for a weekend after a long winter's training to "bond" and prepare for the summer ahead. There are non-drinkers among all of these ranks but they prove to be very much the exception.

The GAA are not alone in all of this. The same intimate relationships with alcohol are present in rugby, soccer and a host of other Irish sports. Given the society from which they spring it would be na∩ve in the extreme to expect these sports to have remained untouched by all of this, but recent events suggest that a little more questioning of what exactly is going on would be worthwhile.

First stop might be a look at the preponderance of sponsorship and advertising by drinks companies which now permeates Irish sport. The positive effects of this for sport have been legion - much needed revenue, massively increased profile and publicity - but it has also had the effect of further cementing the bond between sport and alcohol to the extent where they become virtually inseparable.

The commercial benefits for these same companies are obvious but the surprising thing is the lucrative deals have been presented to them by the various sports with barely a condition.

The sponsorship is welcome and in some cases vital but why are there not more strings attached by those administrators charged with tying up the money-spinning deals? These need not amount to much but an obvious starting point would be alcohol education programmes aimed at those in the younger age groups of the various sports.

The absence of such education regimes at ground level in English football has been targeted as one of the underlying reasons for its current malaise. We might do well to heed their mistakes.