We all know that British football ceased being just ‘the beautiful game’ some time back – at least in the top flight, when the Premiership became a competition (or lack of it) between the richest PLCs in the sport. Rarely, however, has a football ‘financier’ been as frank as Tom Hicks, the Texan billionaire who recently completed a leveraged buy-out of the iconic Liverpool Football Corporation.

He snaffled up the club the Guardian rightly describes as ‘one of the most storied teams in the global game’ – and did so with borrowed money, and plans to service the loan with the profit Liverpool makes. This week, just before the Champions League final with AC Milan, he spoke candidly about the team he now owns, which so many love:

‘When … we bought Weetabix … we leveraged it up to make our return. You could say anyone who was eating Weetabix was paying for our purchase of Weetabix. It was just business. It is the same for Liverpool. Revenues come in from whatever source and go out to whatever source, and if there’s money left over, it is profit.’

We may be tempted to applaud a businessman whose head isn’t ruled by his heart; but his remarks will probably make true fans choke on their breakfast cereal. Naive as it may sound, there are surely more heartening ways to consider the ‘profit’ from such a cherished brand than in terms of hard cash alone.

Whatever financial returns Liverpool has shown in recent years, football fans the world over have been enriched by a team that has boasted such greats as Kenny Dalglish, Alan Hansen and Kevin Keegan. The city itself has accrued huge social capital from the team’s success. Moreover, anyone who hears the Kop in full voice benefits emotionally – and you could even argue that our culture has gained spiritually from the example of a club that pursues greatness through sport with such traditional artistry and panache.

‘What good is it for a man to gain the whole world,’ said Jesus, ‘yet forfeit his soul?’ He didn’t mean that we set out on the road to spiritual ruin the moment we start to win financially; but there is a warning there, surely, to any of us whose dealings in life lack heart. What price the soul of football if we reduce its story to the dimensions of a Weetabix?