Wayne Rooney has signed on. In agreeing a new five-year deal, the 28-year-old has committed his peak years to Manchester United. This being Rooney it is too much of a stretch to claim he has effectively signed for life as previous experience dictates he will begin to agitate for a move approximately three years into his new deal. He has, however, signed over his prime.

The deal is reported to be worth £300,000 per week. Just imagine how many nurses and soldiers annual salaries that could fund. It does not quite give him parity with the likes of Cristiano Ronaldo but it sits him firmly at football's top table, alongside the top earners at money-swollen Paris St-Germain, Monaco and Manchester City.

Should he last the course he will have been at the club for 15 years. That is stalwart territory for a player who boasts more faux-farewells than Barbra Streisand. It means it is just a matter of time until he surpasses Sir Bobby Charlton's record of 249 goals to become the top goalscorer in the club's history. He is only 41 away and could possibly manage that by the end of next season.

Every statistic of Rooney's Old Trafford tenure suggests he should be revered by United's support, with news of his contract extension greeted with joyous relief. However, this is far from the unanimous or even majority response. Some are obligingly thrilled; others reluctantly contented; but a not insignificant number are not happy at the news. To the latter two groups he represents the very embodiment of unfulfilled promises.

Supporters are savvy enough to appreciate the mercenary nature of modern football; the destiny of each hired gun is wedded to their wallet and how handsomely it is filled. That Rooney is singled out for special ire is testament to how far he and his representation have stretched and strained all goodwill to eke out a few more thousand a week in negotiations.

The level of fan resentment is born of what could and should have been. The worst crime Rooney ever committed against any Manchester United supporter was robbing them of a hero. There is so much of the player that lends himself to adulation. What makes him so disliked by large pockets of Salford and Manchester is that he was the Liverpudlian they were willing to adopt.

He's pure Scouser with a face that's one part Scholes and two parts Popeye. A builder's physique draped in pale dotted skin that looks red raw in the sun. It gives him the antihero air of a Peaky Blinder or some forgotten bare-knuckle brawler; the type offering fists upturned in some old sepia photo. In short it is a look that would normally be irresistible to the Manchester eye. Very Irish, very Gorton.

His barely evolved appearance also gives him a unique marketability. The barrel chest would not look out of place in a Pathé News clip of Ferenc Puskas or Dixie Dean, creating an incongruity to his lithe athletic peers, and therefore iconic. His "realness" has everyone from Coca-Cola to Nike clambering over each other to portray him fronting gritty urban backdrops being "real".

As well as compounding his brand value it should enamour him to the fans, who crave a proper working-class hero. Mancunians may not be as outwardly sentimental as their Scouse neighbours but they are undoubted romantics who take the outsider to their hearts. It happened with Beckham and then Ronaldo when "Ingerland" types were spewing venom, it was a huge part of why Cantona was so eagerly deified, and it should have happened with Wayne.

But it has not, because he leveraged all affection to the brink of fracture in order to secure his deals. He scores his goals and the fans cheer, but he has antagonised them to such an extent that most do so in spite of him, not because. It is all the worse because they dearly want to love him. Instead he now earns slightly more money than he would have, having sold reverence that was his by right.

All his faults would have been excused – even embraced – had he shown anything like the loyalty his new contract suggests. The smoking and the mood swings would have been pardoned without thought. That privilege is most likely lost for ever because he thought more of his and Paul Stretford's end than the stands that were ready to love.

Nooruddean Choudry is a lifelong Manchester United supporter and can be found on Twitter at @BeardedGenius