IN THE perennial discussion about sportsfolk behaving badly, few ask that heroes are held to higher standards than the rest of us, but merely to the same standards. At present, doubters are holding Michael Voss to an almost impossible ideal.

They are saying that his involvement in an incident at a hotel last September — the specifics of which are still to be resolved in court — invalidates 15 years of exemplary conduct on and off the field and disqualifies him from consideration for a coaching position next year.

They are saying that the golden-haired boy has, in an instant, become the wicked wolf. It is the new puritanism. Certainly, Voss' action — as seen on grainy security videotape leaked to media this week — is confronting. Aggression almost always is, no matter that it might be provoked, isolated and fleeting.

Voss does not deny playing a part, but says there is much migitation. On this, the courts will have the final say.

But whatever Voss' role that night, it scarcely constitutes a pattern of recidivist behaviour so as to throw doubt on his integrity as a person and bona fides as a coach.

Indeed, the opposite is true: it is because Voss has been charged with unlawful assault, and because this is so much at odds with the character he displayed throughout his playing career, that it has become an issue at all. The fact that it coincides with speculation that he is being sized up as a coach adds spice.

Too often in these circumstances, it is the shrillest voice only that is heard, the most cavalier reaction that is seen.

When Voss was charged, and long before the footage appeared, the Queensland Government dismissed him from his ambassador's role in its "True Sport Lives Here" program. It was summary justice, an overreaction. But politicians are nothing if not masters of expediency.

Voss was in a bad place at a bad time. Some would argue that he was in dubious company, too. Perhaps if he had his time again, he would choose not to be there. But perhaps not: the place was not illegal, the company not criminal. The season was finished, and his career, too. He had played his last game; he was representing only himself.

He could not reasonably have expected that night would turn ugly. He will regret that it did. But there will be many coaches — current and prospective — who doubtlessly are watching and thinking: "There but for the grace of God …"

Voss wants to coach, and will. But there is a compelling reason why it ought not to be next year, and it has nothing to do with a pub brawl. Coaching now is not simply a matter of instruction and exhortation. It is a learned craft, demanding management skills as well as an inspirational touch. Even the greatest players need to study to succeed at it.

A staple of every season is the story of the injured player who sits in the coach's box for a game and emerges with a bewildered look to say that he had no idea of what the job entailed.

Greats in all fields defy orthodoxy, but professionalism slowly is giving lie to that notion. Apart from the veterans, all current AFL coaches have done their indentures. Voss was an incomparable footballer, but that does not make him a readymade coach.

Witness and coach's boxes have in common that both are uncomfortable places when the accusing questions begin to fly. Neither is the place for the unprepared.