AT the time, April 2003's Champions League quarter-final between Manchester United and Real Madrid was most notable for the Ronaldo hat-trick that earned a standing ovation from the Old Trafford faithful.

In the future, it will be remembered as the moment when the face of English football changed forever.

High in the Manchester stands, and enthralled by the outpouring of passion and loyalty that provided the backdrop to the game, Russian oligarch Roman Abramovich decided that ownership of an English football club would provide the status, respect and protection from the Kremlin security services that he so constantly craved.

Initially frustrated as he attempted to buy into Manchester United and Arsenal, Abramovich, a billionaire thanks to his economic manoeuvrings in post-Communist Russia, eventually turned his attention to Chelsea, a chronically indebted London club who were desperately scouring the globe for investment.

Four years later, and Abramovich is a few million pounds poorer, Chelsea are half-a-dozen trophies richer, and football in this country has entered a brave new world.

It is a world of dollars and debt, of hedge funds and headhunting, and of trade-offs and takeovers. It is a world where an Icelandic biscuit magnate can become head of West Ham United and where Thailand's former Prime Minister can dream of taking control of Manchester City. And most importantly of all, it is a world in which it is impossible to turn back the clock.

Yesterday, billionaire recluse Mike Ashley launched a take-over bid that could eventually see Newcastle United become the fifth Premiership club to change hands since Abramovich seized control at Stamford Bridge four years ago. Despite the rapidly-shrinking number of clubs still open to a change in ownership, the St James' Park outfit is unlikely to be the last.

Abramovich's multi-million pound overhaul of Chelsea has shifted the goalposts to such an extent that attracting a new stream of inward investment is now the only route available to clubs wanting to compete with the two-time Premiership champions. Politicians, supporters' groups and even factions of the footballing authorities might not like it, but rolling out the welcome mat to the movers and shakers of international finance is increasingly being seen as the only way to guarantee survival in the cut-throat world of English football. As a mission statement, it is hardly without its problems. Financial motives do not easily equate to footballing ones, and the growing trend for external investment is accompanied by a myriad of concerns.

Supporters become consumers, there to be squeezed for every last penny and at the whim of distant investors who have no knowledge or concern for tradition. The Premiership itself becomes polarised beyond all recognition, with the haves all but obliterating the have-nots and altruistic notions of sporting competition being swapped for the survival of the fittest. And even the likes of Chelsea and Manchester United become dangerously indebted to fly-by-night owners able to sever their ties without a moment's thought for the future. Capitalistic selfishness becomes the norm, but the more the footballing world changes to accommodate the likes of Abramovich and the Glazers, the more it breeds an environment where copying the oligarchic blueprint becomes the only option available.

It was telling that the distaste that accompanied the Glazer family's buy-out of Manchester United quickly dissipated once events on the field started to turn in their football club's favour.

Where were the anti-Glazer banners at Wembley last weekend? Absent, of course, hastily packed away in the garage as soon as Manchester United began to rival Chelsea for Premiership and FA Cup honours.

The same has been true at Liverpool, where George Gillett and Tom Hicks have been treated like conquering heroes after promising to invest up to £50m in new players this summer, and to a lesser extent at Arsenal, where American tycoon Stan Kroenke's attempts to buy out Danny Fiszman and David Hill-Wood have been enthusiastically supported despite the current owners' proven track record of stability.

The prevailing wind of change is at its strongest at Manchester City, where former Thai prime minister Thaksin Shinawatra is excused a CV that includes an eight-month investigation into alleged corruption and accusations of human rights abuses and extrajudicial killings provided he comes up with the £100m that he has promised to invest this summer.

Post-Abramovich, standing still is not an option, and if running means holding hands with an unknown investor of dubious heritage, so be it.

Gone are the days when a businessman with his local club at heart, such as former Blackburn Rovers chairman Jack Walker, could dip his hands in his pocket and deliver a Premiership title. Today, the pockets need to be deep enough to support a sizeable developing nation. Where Abramovich has led, others are compelled to follow. And for any club that fails to claim a seat on the gravy train, Premiership derailment is lurking just around the bend.