War of words: Ferguson's six-year feud with Panorama has
seen him speak to everyone but the BBC
Sir Alex Ferguson versus the BBC should take place at
around 5.45pm on Sunday evening, when the man from the Beeb holds
out a hopeful microphone towards the Manchester United manager as
he emerges from the dressing room at Craven Cottage.
New rules have come into force this weekend supposedly
compelling Premier League managers to provide post-match interviews
to the media. If they refuse, their club will be fined. If they
refuse again, the fine will increase with every non-appearance.
So will Ferguson bow to the regulations and relent after six
years of boycotting the BBC? Or will he give the now-customary look
of amused disdain as he sweeps by to
chat to another broadcaster?
Put it this way, I expect assistant manager Mike Phelan will
shave in readiness for his usual stint in front of the Match Of The
Day cameras. And I imagine somewhere inside Old Trafford, chief
executive David Gill is already setting up a direct debit to deal
with those weekly fines from the Premier League.
There have been some truly memorable feuds throughout history;
Parliament versus Charles I, Stalin against Trotsky and, of course,
Shilpa Shetty versus Jade Goody. But very little in sport compares
to the single-minded determination Ferguson has demonstrated in
shunning the BBC.
It started in 2004 when Panorama made a series of allegations
against his son Jason, a football agent, accusing him of exploiting
his father’s influence. Although he was never found guilty of any
wrongdoing, now or then, the programme was called Fergie And
Son.
Ferguson Snr saw this as a terrible smear on his family,
complaining: ‘It was all made-up stuff and “brown paper bags” and
all that kind of carry on. It was a horrible attack on my son’s
honour and he should never have been accused of that.’
From that point he vowed never to deal with the BBC again and,
barring exceptional circumstances, such as a personal tribute to
his friend Sir Bobby Robson at the Sports Personality of Year
Awards, he has remained true to his word.
Part of me admires him for sticking to his principles, although
it’s not necessarily a productive line for a journalist to take. If
a family member or loved one had his reputation trashed in public
I’d bear a grudge, too.
Then part of me thinks it’s time to let it go and move on. The
BBC speak to so many supporters around the world and there is much
to commend in their coverage.
Besides, the Corporation’s sports staff always had a fairly
distant relationship with the likes of Panorama. Ferguson’s ban on
Match Of The Day because of a news programme is akin to shouting at
the man behind the pumps in the local BP garage because of the oil
spill in the Gulf of Mexico.
But I do know one thing. He will not relent because of a fine
(one that is unlikely to be much beyond £1,000 per ‘offence’, by
the way). It will be because he chooses to do so.
Ferguson is probably the only manager who could get away with
such a stance, thanks to his immense record of success. And he is
probably the last, too. In the wider corporate world of modern
football, sponsors break out in a nervous rash at the thought of
prolonged conflict and managers have to toe the line.