He's not among them that's why.
I loved watching Laudrup, so it gives me no pleasure to agree.
We return to the simple truth that football is the world game, and has held that title for so long it was able to organise a World Cup as early as 1930. To be ranked, say, 250th best player of all time in football is a far higher accolade than in, for example, hockey. The competition to reach the top 25 is so fearsome that any attempt I make to compose such a list ends with me fretting over who I was forced to omit rather than feeling satisfied with the inclusions. Off the top of my head, I'd venture there'd be little to choose between number 25 and number 40 in real terms. Alas, in list form a 15-strong gap looks stark and is bound to end with people howling, 'X is 15 places better than Y, are you on crack?'
A nice cop-out might be to borrow from the film critic Andrew Sarris' approach to rating directors in his book
The American Cinema, when he simply created a number of categories into which he bunged whoever he thought belonged there.
Laudrup failed to set Serie A alight with Juventus and glorious as his Danish team was they didn't do themselves justice in the business end of any major tournaments. (The 92 Euro winning team that won with Brian instead of Michael was far less talented than that of 86). Set against the gold standard required to make my top-25 those are relative shortcomings.
Even on a cool autumn night in London approaching 10pm, the memory of that goal against Uruguay makes me want to dash outside with a tennis ball and mimic Laudrup like I did when I was a kid. But there are players I'm less fond of who I wouldn't want to deny what I consider their due.