Being in the know is something to be proud of. When Sir Alex Ferguson retired, there were those who believed they had the inside track, but it was an event that was predicted in this column.
Displaying the kind of prophetic power that would warrant a Pulitzer prize in many circumstances, I announced ‘the end was nigh’, adding it was high time the Manchester United board ‘pressed a gold watch into his palm and gently ushered Ferguson in the general direction of the executive lounge’.
Eleven years later, they did. I turned out to be absolutely right, eventually, having written off the game’s greatest manager in November 2002.
Actually, it was as accurate as a Michael Fish weather forecast.
The more serious point is that the manner of his departure is surely the greatest triumph of Ferguson’s entire career.
Throughout his life he was known for timing football matches with his unique personal chronograph which ran on GMT - Glaswegian Manager Time.
His control freakery moulded the modern United and extended to every aspect of the club, from the players, directors, media, commerce, car choices, music, politics, decor, sanitation, creche facilities and even the passage of time itself.
But, when it came to the most important tick of his career clock, he bowed out at the perfect moment.
‘Like death and taxes, the fact that football managers eventually get the sack holds true,’ was what I argued back in November 2002. When Roy Keane was complaining about the squad’s attitude, in my assertion his empire was threatening to crumble.
But he defied that idea, keeping the highs and lows of his 27 years in perspective, fending off any assault on his authority from without or within and departing on his terms as a champion, with tributes and cheers ringing in his ears.
Fergie Time had its true meaning.
For a laugh and a dare I jokingly sabotaged a photocall with Ferguson at an awards bash.
The challenge was to slip in a reference to his habit of telling referees when a match should be considered to have run its course.
He caught me in the act and laughed along, while grabbing my tie and trying to throttle me with a little more gusto than required.
Away from the day-to-day combat, Ferguson retains a streak of mischief in him. It’s one of the characteristics that make him the manager he is.
I remember one interview when I was on a Sunday newspaper prior to a United game in Italy. He came out with a line that he didn’t trust the Italians to the extent he would even check under the sauce if they told him he was eating spaghetti.
It was a theme he returned to again in subsequent jibes. The implication was that he felt the Italian game at the time was rife with corruption and he wasn’t wrong, was he?
A few seasons later, Juventus were stripped of two titles and relegated for bribing referees.
On another occasion, reviewing his transfers, he wisecracked about a less-than-successful recruit. 'Ah, Djemba Djemba,' he said wistfully. 'So bad they named him twice,' before going on to point out the player’s redeeming qualities.
So, when he clears out his office, aside from the stacks of medals and trophies that will be on display, there will be a jumble of forgotten peculiarities and questionable souvenirs.
Buried at the back of his desk, under empty chewing gum packets, will be Bebe’s extraordinary contract, a Rafa Benitez voodoo doll, the muzzle Roy Keane refused to wear in his final months, a Kevin Keegan wind-up toy, receipts for some sour grapes, the dry-cleaning bill from Arsenal’s pizza-throwing escapade and a framed miniature replica of that ‘Welcome To Manchester’ poster featuring Carlos Tevez.
Which brings me to the man who some believe will benefit most from Ferguson’s departure, and that is Roberto Mancini. Right now you’d think there might be party poppers sounding in the City manager’s household.
He is preparing for the FA Cup final and has just seen off his nemesis across town, a man who won 13 Premier League titles, and he’s lucky enough to be watching him depart as he sits on the largest war chest in football history.
It’s Mancini Time, surely? Yet there is uncertainty over the Italian manager.
His displeasure at last summer’s transfer dealings by the City board still rankles and he is said to have been uncommonly reticent of late with the club’s sponsors, squad and other figures behind the scenes.
He did send a decent tribute across to his departing United counterpart, but the pressure on him to capitalise on the shifting foundations at Old Trafford and create City’s dynasty will be more intense than ever.
Do you think the City hierarchy look at Mancini and plan years ahead? Or will they be wondering if their £185m side might be turned over by a Wigan Athletic line-up assembled for £16m in what would surely rank as the greatest upset the final has seen since Wimbledon beat Liverpool in 1988.
Managers do not get the settling-in period Ferguson had any more. Fergie Time is nearly over. We wait to see how long Mancini Time will last.
Moyes sees sense and mans up
Just when I was wondering if there would ever be a more preposterous media charade than Billy Davies’ weird decision to do his post-match press conference at Nottingham Forest before a game, news emerged from Everton.
David Moyes arrived for his customary media call with an order that ‘no questions on Manchester United would be allowed’.
With his move to Old Trafford already confirmed what else would be on the agenda?
The weather? The price of summer holidays in the school break? Or maybe Moyes’ plans for Everton next season, such as transfer raids for Leighton Baines and Marouane Fellaini.
He’s a fine manager is Moyes. He can deal with it, as he proved by addressing aspects of his switch to Old Trafford, whatever the instructions to the contrary were.
He paid Everton their due, rendering nonsensical gagging orders redundant in the process. It would not have been a particular show of respect to anyone to ban talk of United, just patronising evasion.
Maybe football is beginning to grow up a bit.
Now top clubs will be queuing to hire Benitez
As Rafa Benitez wandered from the Chelsea table to another seat at the Footballer Of The Year dinner, I shook his hand and heartily congratulated him on his work at Stamford Bridge.
The happy and relaxed looking Benitez thanked me and suggested with a chuckle that I didn’t know the half of it.
But I do know this season the Spaniard has endured an orchestrated campaign to undermine him, open revolt from a section of the support and disrespectful players discussing the possible return of a former boss like lovestruck teenagers.
Throughout it all Benitez has coped with commendable stoicism and dignity.
Whatever happens in the remaining fixtures, the man dismissively handed the title of ‘interim manager’ on day one will depart having added genuine lustre to his curriculum vitae.
The likes of Sir Alex Ferguson have had a little snipe at Benitez for being overly preoccupied with burnishing his resume, but why shouldn’t he be keen to add to his list of achievements? His supposed heir apparent, Jose Mourinho, has a tendency to do the same, turning every match into a narcissistic parade.
But Benitez is on the verge of securing Champions League qualification for his successor and collecting the Europa League trophy along the way, if he can defeat Benfica in midweek.
He deserves recognition, having not only proved himself as a manager but as a man too. Before he returned to his place at the awards, Benitez revealed how he unwinds from all the pressure.
He never touches alcohol, despite his wife’s attempts to tutor him in fine wines, and prefers to lose himself in a game of chess or the Basque card game called Mus — which, he explained, was a game of bluff and counter bluff. I’d imagine he’s quite accomplished at it.
Here is one certainty, however. Although Chelsea might not want Benitez, following his conduct and astute management this season, many other clubs will.
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