As
Sir Alex Ferguson prepares for his 700th Premier League match,
Sportsmail's writers recall the moments of football genius and
volcanic temper that put Fergie in a league of his own.
I was playing for Spurs
against Manchester United and remember looking at Cristiano Ronaldo
in the tunnel and admiring his shape and physique. He looked like a
footballer. At the time, plenty were dismissing him as a show pony.
There was a lot of focus on his theatrical falls and tricks,
without too much end product.
After the game, I saw Sir Alex
and said: 'Your No 7 isn't too bad.' He looked at me and said: 'I'm
telling you, he's going to be one of the best players in the
world.'
His development of Ronaldo is
an indication of his passion for the game, his knowledge and
ability to spot a United player, because it's harder to play for
the bigger clubs, such are the demands and expectations, the
pressure to perform consistently when everyone is trying to bring
you down.
Look at what Ferguson did with
players such as David Beckham, Paul Scholes and Ryan Giggs. He is a
brilliant spotter of talent and he knows how to take that talent
and make them into a United talent. It was the same with Eric
Cantona. It sums him up as a manager. I wonder if Ronaldo will ever
enjoy his football as much as he did when he played for Sir
Alex.
It was the day after Boxing
Day 2004 and I sat with a group of other daily newspaper reporters
in a small ante-room at United's Carrington training ground. The
day before, Wayne Rooney had been criticised by Bolton manager Sam
Allardyce for a swipe at defender Tal Ben Haim with his
arm.
Sir Alex seemed in reasonable
humour as he sat down behind his desk, gently chiding us for
'ruining my Christmas by making me come here'. As can sometimes be
the case, though, the United manager's temper was on a hair-trigger
that day and my questioning about the Rooney incident promptly saw
a storm blow up, the like of which I had never seen before and
indeed have never seen since.
Happy times: Ferguson with Cantona (left) and winning
the European Cup in 1999
Sir Alex was into his stride
quicker than Usain Bolt as he vented his spleen at Ben Haim for his
alleged play-acting and at us, the written press, for not
highlighting it - even though, as I tried to point out, we actually
had. When he is in this mood - when the red mist has well and truly
come down - Sir Alex is impossible to reason with. It's as close as
a journalist can ever come to feeling what it must be like when the
dressing room hairdryer is turned on.
One of his strengths has
always been the depth of his own convictions and the blind loyalty
he feels towards his own players and indeed the club he has built
in his own image. At times, it spills over. Deep down I can't
believe that he doesn't sometimes regret it when it
does.
This was certainly one of
those occasions. I won't repeat the exact dialogue here - although
I have kept a copy - but as I tried to reason with him, tried to
direct the exchange back on to a course fit to publish in a
newspaper, Sir Alex merely swept me away, shouting over me, the air
blue with profanities and accusations.
By the end he was standing on
his feet and his final act was to swipe his right hand across the
table, sending eight tape recorders flying into the wall. With that
he walked towards the door but, before he left the room, he turned
back to us. 'Now you've got me to lose my f*****g temper,' he
grimaced. Wonderful.
After my run-in with Ruud van
Nistelrooy at Old Trafford in 2003, the rivalry between Arsenal and
Manchester United had never been greater. But I was still surprised
by the way Ferguson behaved when I next saw him.
We were in the marble hall at
Highbury before the game and he was greeting people he knew. But he
did his level best to ignore me, which he hadn't done before. He
usually shook my hand so I was a bit put out.
But a few years later, after I
had left Arsenal, I saw him at Jim Smith's testimonial dinner in
Blenheim Palace in Oxford. It was in the middle of the season and
he must have been very busy but he took the time out to go along. I
made a decision to go and shake hands with him. He was very warm
and gracious - the perfect gentleman. I guess I wasn't a rival any
more at that point but it made me realise how different he was away
from work and how competitive he is with it.
THE first thing Sir Alex
Ferguson said to me takes some beating as an opening line. 'Are you
related to that tramp?' he enquired, which not only took me by
surprise but also suggested, back in 1995, that someone had given
him some duff information. Well obviously.
But this was classic Ferguson.
A then typical response to the arrival of another young journalist
on the scene. He didn't trust you. He didn't want you using him to
make a name for yourself. He didn't want you getting comfortable.
Instead, he wanted to put a marker down. During the seven years I
worked specifically as a Manchester-based football reporter, there
were other such run-ins.
Days to
remember: Fergie with the European Cup Winners Cup (left)
and on his first day at United
Soon after he had announced
his intention to retire in 2001 I'd run a story about how the new
board members at Aberdeen would offer him an opportunity to return
to Pittodrie as club chairman at the end of the season. That
morning I got a call from Paddy Harverson, then the director of
communications at Manchester United, who informed me Ferguson was
spitting mad, not least because his phone hadn't stopped ringing.
Harverson wanted to try to diffuse the situation before I arrived
at Carrington for his press conference later that day.
Sadly, he failed and Ferguson
launched into a verbal tirade that turned briefly physical when I
argued that the story was true. Harverson had to dive between us,
suggested I leave and then - rather courageously it has to be said
- told Ferguson that he not only believed the story had some
substance, but that he also probably shouldn't have tried to throw
me out.
In fairness to Ferguson, he
did then grant me permission to re-enter the building for an
interview I had arranged with Ryan Giggs. 'You still here?' he
asked as he walked past. There was a moment in a televised
Champions League press conference. 'It would take an entire
interview to answer that question and it's an interview you're
never going to get,' he said, much to the amusement of my
colleagues.
But there is another side to
Ferguson. A hugely generous side that many of the same journalists
he has jousted with over the years have experienced. When
colleagues he's known have been taken ill he's turned up at the
hospital; even made a visit to their homes.
I'm not sure he'd do that for
me but it's been a great ride all the same. One of the highlights
of reporting, for the last 15 years, on this amazing
game.
My first 'hairdryer' came in
1996 after a 2-2 draw against Everton. He was furious that I had
not added enough time - I had only added nine minutes! Our next
meeting was on November 16, 1996, again at Old Trafford and his
10th anniversary at United. I told him that I had considered buying
him a watch to mark the occasion. He replied that after my last
visit he had considered buying me one - a Mickey Mouse
one!
After one game at Old Trafford
he waited for me in the tunnel and blasted at me that 'someone
would have to take an axe out and fell one of his forwards before I
awarded them a penalty.'
On my next visit, as the
assistants walked down the line-ups doing their equipment check, I
shouted: 'Make sure you check for axes, it'll help me with penalty
appeals!' He smiled at me. Sir Alex did try to intimidate officials
but respected good ones. He encouraged me to continue refereeing
after my World Cup cock-up and offered support. He does care about
the game and not just Manchester United. The referees should listen
to his ideas - they would benefit.
There are many happy memories
of sitting in Fergie's office at their old Cliff training ground.
His banter, particularly with Brian Kidd, was the stuff of stand-up
comics, especially when the jokes were about who had been the
better player. Yet nothing gave him greater pleasure than watching
Eric Cantona go through his strict, post-training practice. Of all
the players Sir Alex has managed, the Frenchman's skills and
presence have given him the greatest pleasure and galvanised the
side that won four Premier League titles with him in the team. He
loved, too, Cantona's mystery; his use of language and when he said
things like: 'The ball is like a woman, she loves to be caressed.'
Fergie would drool with admiration.
He describes the day, on April
24, 1997, when Cantona told him he intended to quit as a hook to
the head and his imagination is still fired by memories of his
upturned collar and guardsman's gait. Cantona is on record as
saying: 'I want to die from an overdose of love.' Well, Eric, there
are few who admired you more than Fergie.
In Ferguson's old office at
The Cliff at the end of 1999, his annus mirabilis, he was in a
content and reflective mood talking to the Irish Times. He was
generous with his time and, as others will confirm, charismatic,
friendly, teeming with stories.
Creative aggression: The years have not mellowed
Fergie
The controversial World Club
Championship in Brazil was looming - 'we didn't want to go, that's
the nuts and bolts of it' - and there was debate about Martin
Edwards' intentions, possible Irish ownership, Roy Keane's new
contract and Brian Kidd's departure - 'the saddest part of my life
here, no question'. Attack and intent have been key Ferguson words
but he admitted he had been too hard at times.
'But it suited the environment
I was in, at St Mirren and Aberdeen. Coming to Man United I carried
on a bit of Aberdeen for a spell. But then I needed to start
thinking - this was different, this was expectation, this was big
league, this is the biggest.' A line from his recently published
autobiography about his time at Aberdeen had referred to the team's
'creative aggression'. It was put to Ferguson that the phrase
suited him. He agreed: 'Yeah, that sums me up.'
The Old Trafford draw against
Juventus in the first leg of the 1999 Champions League semi-final
looked ominous. For the public record, Fergie acknowledged it would
be tough in Turin. But, as we left the press conference, he
beckoned me into a small room. 'Have a Scotch,' he said. As we
clinked glasses he looked hard at me and said: 'We'll beat 'em over
there and we'll go on and win this thing.' 'Maybe,' I said. He
grinned: 'Remember Gothenburg.'
On that damp May night 16
years earlier, after Alex's upstart Aberdeen beat Real Madrid in
the Cup-Winners' Cup Final, Fergie was holding court in the bar and
he slapped me on the shoulder: 'Nae bad having an Englishman say
cheers for what our wee club has achieved here.'
For more than a quarter of a
century, we have drunk to his successes, drowned the odd sorrow,
agreed mostly but occasionally argued vigorously. Contrary to the
fearsome reputation, he respects opinions, as long as they are
expressed honestly. Sure enough, United won 3-2 in Turin and then
performed European football's greatest escape against Bayern Munich
in the final.
So, now it's on to the 700th
Premier League game. Cheers, Alex - and may there be many more to
come.
Running Manchester United must
feel like a neverending swordfight. To keep on top of it requires a
manager who is fiercely committed, driven and bloody minded if
needs be.
I had written a story about
Eric Cantona's contract, claiming he had asked for assurances about
new signings before agreeing to a deal. I was confident the source
was very close to the player, and was standing in the car park,
chatting to a curious Denis Irwin and Steve Bruce at The
Cliff.
Then I heard footsteps
thundering down the stairs. The door flew open and an angry Sir
Alex Ferguson appeared. Knowing what was coming, Bruce and Irwin
were already moving away. Sir Alex then politely explained that he
had some reservations about my article.
No, of course he didn't! He
gave me the full treatment. He said he ran the club, nobody else. I
said the story was right. He told me I was banned. I explained this
was not going to affect me greatly. He banned me some more. Then
the gateman put his arm across me and said I had better leave. I
said, no problem, but pointed out it wasn't me he should be holding
back. At this point, I think we went from hairdryer setting to full
Krakatoa.
I understood the fuss.
Ferguson was protecting his club, his players and his position. I
respected his right to blow his top. Ever since, I've always got on
very well with Sir Alex. He is charming, charismatic company. If
there were a charity or a cause to support, he'd be among the first
I'd ask for help. There isn't another club who wouldn't want a
character like him in charge. He is truly the last of his
kind.
Hand rebelliously clenched,
head tilted to the side, legs wide apart and firmly set as if ready
to take on the world, this is Sir Alex Ferguson (back left) holding
his first football trophy.
Not a piece of glittering
silverware, nor even one of those plastic simulations destined to
gather dust in a bedroom, but a wooden pencil case which at least
had the merit of being useful.
The smiling 11-year-old could
not have looked happier had he won the European Cup which, of
course, he did by the time it had evolved into the Champions
League. And why would he not be grinning? Young Fergie with the
cheekychappy face, exhibiting confidence and a hint of arrogance,
had scored the goal which won his team the Govan & District
Junior Brigade Five-a-Side Tournament. 'I had to give Alex a
ticking off at half-time because he missed a few chances,' Johnny
Borland told Sportsmail. 'But he responded very well and scored the
winner.'
Mr Borland (right), then the
leader of the 129 Glasgow Company and in charge of the Life Boys
team, took the picture which also shows Ferguson's younger brother,
Martin. The event took place at Langbank, a village about 10 miles
from Paisley.
'Alex was a much better player
than his brother,' said Mr Borland. 'He was the star. I built our
team around him. Once he didn't turn up. I found out that his
father had taken him to Ibrox to see Rangers play Fiorentina, if I
remember correctly. I told him that if there was a repeat he'd
never play for us again.
'Alex was all go, such a
determined boy. He came from a very humble background but he
displayed leadership qualities at a young age. I asked him if he'd
like to be an officer in the Boy's Brigade. He turned it down,
saying the pull of football was too strong.'
Borland, one of the heroes
left behind at Dunkirk, is 90 years young and still eager and fit
enough for chaplaincy work at a Glasgow hospital. Two years ago, he
and his family were guests of honour at a dinner hosted by Ferguson
on a VIP visit to United.
'John Borland was one of the
biggest influences on my earlier life,' said Ferguson. 'He was an
absolute fanatic for the game. When we went to camp we were given a
list of everything we had to bring with us and at the bottom, in
big capital letters, he'd put "AND FOOTBALL BOOTS''. As soon as we
arrived it would be, "Right, everybody, get your boots on''.' They
were a size or two bigger when the 129th won the Glasgow and
District Cup, one of Ferguson's strongest childhood
memories.
'Our manager, JB, bought us
all ice creams with double nougat wafers and eating them walking
down the Polmadie Road, with our boots tied at the laces and
dangling round our necks, was the most exhilarating experience of
my young life,' Ferguson wrote in his autobiography.
The rest, as they say, is
football history.
