A cherished possession in the Soccernet office is a not-so weighty tome entitled "Michael Owen: In Person". Its publishers sent us a copy in the autumn of 2000 and we rejoiced in the chance to hear how "football's hottest property lets you into his private world and reveals all".

Mike tells us his favourite dish is "steak and chips". That's as opposed to his favourite ever meal, "salmon and broccoli", and his favourite film and book, "Cool Running (sic)" and Roald Dahl's The BFG, "it was read to us by a schoolteacher". That's as deep as it goes, the rest being proof positive that Owen was an early adopter of the barren platitudes associated with a modern sportsman.

That book's blurb describes him as a "world football superstar and a household name". Nine years on, Owen's current management company, Wasserman Media Group, has composed an infamous 32-page brochure to find a home for an out-of-contract 29-year-old striker. It has been pulled apart in the British media for its descriptions of Owen's "brand values" as "resilient", "charismatic", "young" and the rather strange "technical".

The young man whose run through Argentina's defence in St Etienne resembled a promising colt winning its maiden race is often accused of being more interested in horse racing than the game which made him. Jockey Kieren Fallon once told a court how Owen, a racehorse owner who already has his own training yard up and running, texted him every day for racing tips. Owen's public face, despite Wasserman's dossier protestations, has always been one lacking in any visible passion. A lack of motivation was a repeatedly levelled accusation at him during 2008-9.

Owen's post-Liverpool career has been disastrous, from the time he decided not to sign a new Anfield contract and headed to Real Madrid for a discount £8m fee. Then came the move to Newcastle United. His four years on Tyneside have coincided with the club's decaying slump towards that catastrophic relegation in May. And when it came to Newcastle's own Waterloo, the final game of the season at Aston Villa, Owen was left on the bench by supposed best pal Alan Shearer. Once given his chance at Villa Park, he barely touched the ball.

And it gets worse for Owen. So far the only publicly interested party is Hull City. That's the club whose manager is Phil Brown, a man who tries live up to his surname but is in fact orange. Brown's egotism was made most public by two on-pitch interventions that will last long in shivering memory; the on-pitch Boxing Day team talk at Eastlands and the grievous harm handed out to the Beach Boys' "Sloop John B" as Brown celebrated the "achievement" of finishing one point above relegation.

Brown, no doubt aware that he hadn't been receiving much airtime of late, went on national radio to signal his intent, saying of Owen that "at this stage of his career, he'll want the best offer for his future". Owen's reaction on Monday to the speculation was a model of being non-commital. While scratching his head in a mode that would have body language experts on alert, he denied knowing much about the Tigers' approach.

He followed the shrugging with a blast back at his many critics and showed the depressing lack of perspective associated with many footballers in saying "it's not like I've murdered anyone. You've got to be thick-skinned." He had preceded that by curiously declaring: "I've got skin thicker than 99.9 per cent of the population and I have got used to it."

Bizarrely, and surely incorrectly, he followed that with: "When I scored a goal in the World Cup as an 18-year-old people were writing me off." Then came a show of confidence, gloved with another snipe at the critics: "I'll come back. I'll play well and score goals once more. Everyone will be quiet for six months and I'll have two or three bad games then people will say, 'he's about to turn 30 and his legs have gone'."

In amidst this confusing outpouring, Owen's perception of himself remains strong. For all his supporters in the media - few others are referred to exclusively by their first name by the likes of Alan Hansen - Owen, like everybody else, has suffered the lack of kindness shown by time. Robbie Fowler, the man he superceded at Liverpool, could probably sympathise. Emile Heskey, Owen's erstwhile partner for club and country, had his career saved by Wigan Athletic yet even that avenue has been closed by Latics owner Dave Whelan

Last week Whelan voiced the views of many of the Premier League's lower lights when he decribed why he would not be interested in Owen. "Would we be interested in him? No," said Whelan. "One, his wages are too expensive. Two, has he got the urge, bottle and drive to do what the Premier League demands?"

Back in 2000, "In Person" concluded with some hopes for the future. "At the end of my career, I want to be able to look in the cabinets in my snooker room and see them full of cups, caps and medals. I have not made a bad start to my life in football and I would not change any of it. Hopefully there a lot more good things in store."

Owen has not won a medal since the League Cup in March 2003, his haul of England caps is stuck at 89 while his hopes of matching Bobby Charlton's record of 49 international goals have withered away. These days, he is no "world superstar". Neither is he a "household name" any longer. Despite his defiance and those brash showings of brittle self-confidence, Owen is now facing a different football reality to his days as the game's golden boy.