The Manchester United legend is an manager who understands what makes footballers tick, as well as football clubs
Sir Alex Ferguson salutes the Old Trafford crowd as Manchester United secure their 19th league title. Photograph: Tom Jenkins
Richard Bach, the American writer, is perhaps best known for the literary success he enjoyed early in his career with seemingly ordinary material. One of his finest works, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah, tells the story of a modern-day saviour who resigns his position when his believers start to expect too much of him. Around the time of the book's release a young Glaswegian was enjoying similar early success, as manager of the then Scottish First Division champions, St Mirren.
This Sunday marks Sir Alex Ferguson's 25th year as manager of Manchester United, a remarkable achievement and one that has been brought about by plenty of natural ability, a set of ruthless traits, acute awareness of changes within football and an ability to adapt to them, plus the odd bit of incredible luck. Of course, at one time or another, all of the aforementioned have been played out in complete reversal. But that's football. For me, the resilience and conviction to continue is the most impressive part of Ferguson's armour.
A friend of mine who used to play for United told me this week that even when he knew his time was up he was still treated with the same respect as anybody else in the squad, and while that is not necessarily a rarity it certainly isn't an approach adopted by every manager whom he and I have played under. The appreciation for what Sir Alex did for his career when it would have been far easier to do nothing at all is something that humbles my friend to this day. "I can still call him and I know he will spare me as much time as he can for a chat, and whether it's a week, a month or a year since we last talked, he remembers my kids' names and always asks after them."
For the record, another friend who currently plays for United always refuses to be drawn into conversation when I ask him about Ferguson, and is not backward when telling me that the reasons are fear, loyalty and respect in any order you like.
There are thousands of anecdotes that explain Ferguson's ruthless side, mainly from ex-players. There are many more that don't receive quite the same level of publicity but endorse a more heartfelt approach to humanity, such as home visits to those who have fallen ill and a dedication to his charity work that would embarrass many players, including me. The most interesting stories, though, are those that capture both characteristics in a single snapshot.
A good example of this has been the changing face of Ferguson's backroom staff in the last 25 years. Brian Kidd, Steve McClaren and Carlos Queiroz have all left to try their luck in management (with the occasional success) but their legacy, whether they know it or not, runs much deeper than their contribution towards United's trophy cabinet. I am told nothing annoys Ferguson more than dropping points against teams managed by ex-Manchester United staff, especially players.
Shuffling his backroom pack has given Ferguson a fresh pair of eyes to see United through and also prevented players, in particular the longer-serving ones, from going stale on the training ground. New ideas, combined with players willing to adapt to them, are essential for the top clubs. Manchester United have not played in the same style for these 25 years; they have bought new players to adapt to new systems, sometimes to pull further away from their counterparts and sometimes to narrow a gap. This season's style is different again and, in terms of their pressing game, has parallels with the way Barcelona try to win the ball back.
Keeping the players on their toes is a high-wire act encompassing trust and respect and not, as one of my old managers thought, about organising as many nights out as possible, regardless of results, so that the players would like him more. A lot of players will abuse any sign of weakness in a manager and then find an excuse for their own failings when the team start to lose matches.
But Ferguson has never struggled in that area. His purchases in the transfer market are generally young and hungry players with everything to gain by playing out of their skin. The impressive part is the handling of those same players once they become household names with a lifestyle to match. I have never been interested in management at any time of my career and the older I get the less enamoured I am with the thought of having to baby-sit 30 millionaires every day while saying things like: "OK, whose girlfriend was it? And when exactly did the police turn up?"
None of that off-the-field nonsense seems to take its toll on Ferguson or dampen his enthusiasm for the game, although players I have spoken to are all agreed that he would have retired almost on the spot had his team overcome Barcelona in last season's Champions League final. At the moment he is left with the satisfaction of "knocking Liverpool right off their fucking perch" but with only two European Cups in a quarter of a century.
It would also seem that United's record 19th league title has arrived just before the "noisy neighbours" look set to fulfil their potential. In changing rooms up and down the country my guess is that most us would be agreed on one thing; succumbing to a Manchester City dynasty would be an improper end to a glittering managerial career.
But turning down a challenge has never been Ferguson's way. The obstacles facing him today are in some ways as big as ever. They may yet prove too much for a man approaching his 70th birthday, but as Bach writes: "There is no disaster that can't become a blessing." While there is a lot of truth to that sentiment, it is also worth mentioning that, for Ferguson, there is no blessing that can't become a disaster either.
Follow the Secret Footballer on Twitter @TSFGuardian
This Sunday marks Sir Alex Ferguson's 25th year as manager of Manchester United, a remarkable achievement and one that has been brought about by plenty of natural ability, a set of ruthless traits, acute awareness of changes within football and an ability to adapt to them, plus the odd bit of incredible luck. Of course, at one time or another, all of the aforementioned have been played out in complete reversal. But that's football. For me, the resilience and conviction to continue is the most impressive part of Ferguson's armour.
A friend of mine who used to play for United told me this week that even when he knew his time was up he was still treated with the same respect as anybody else in the squad, and while that is not necessarily a rarity it certainly isn't an approach adopted by every manager whom he and I have played under. The appreciation for what Sir Alex did for his career when it would have been far easier to do nothing at all is something that humbles my friend to this day. "I can still call him and I know he will spare me as much time as he can for a chat, and whether it's a week, a month or a year since we last talked, he remembers my kids' names and always asks after them."
For the record, another friend who currently plays for United always refuses to be drawn into conversation when I ask him about Ferguson, and is not backward when telling me that the reasons are fear, loyalty and respect in any order you like.
There are thousands of anecdotes that explain Ferguson's ruthless side, mainly from ex-players. There are many more that don't receive quite the same level of publicity but endorse a more heartfelt approach to humanity, such as home visits to those who have fallen ill and a dedication to his charity work that would embarrass many players, including me. The most interesting stories, though, are those that capture both characteristics in a single snapshot.
A good example of this has been the changing face of Ferguson's backroom staff in the last 25 years. Brian Kidd, Steve McClaren and Carlos Queiroz have all left to try their luck in management (with the occasional success) but their legacy, whether they know it or not, runs much deeper than their contribution towards United's trophy cabinet. I am told nothing annoys Ferguson more than dropping points against teams managed by ex-Manchester United staff, especially players.
Shuffling his backroom pack has given Ferguson a fresh pair of eyes to see United through and also prevented players, in particular the longer-serving ones, from going stale on the training ground. New ideas, combined with players willing to adapt to them, are essential for the top clubs. Manchester United have not played in the same style for these 25 years; they have bought new players to adapt to new systems, sometimes to pull further away from their counterparts and sometimes to narrow a gap. This season's style is different again and, in terms of their pressing game, has parallels with the way Barcelona try to win the ball back.
Keeping the players on their toes is a high-wire act encompassing trust and respect and not, as one of my old managers thought, about organising as many nights out as possible, regardless of results, so that the players would like him more. A lot of players will abuse any sign of weakness in a manager and then find an excuse for their own failings when the team start to lose matches.
But Ferguson has never struggled in that area. His purchases in the transfer market are generally young and hungry players with everything to gain by playing out of their skin. The impressive part is the handling of those same players once they become household names with a lifestyle to match. I have never been interested in management at any time of my career and the older I get the less enamoured I am with the thought of having to baby-sit 30 millionaires every day while saying things like: "OK, whose girlfriend was it? And when exactly did the police turn up?"
None of that off-the-field nonsense seems to take its toll on Ferguson or dampen his enthusiasm for the game, although players I have spoken to are all agreed that he would have retired almost on the spot had his team overcome Barcelona in last season's Champions League final. At the moment he is left with the satisfaction of "knocking Liverpool right off their fucking perch" but with only two European Cups in a quarter of a century.
It would also seem that United's record 19th league title has arrived just before the "noisy neighbours" look set to fulfil their potential. In changing rooms up and down the country my guess is that most us would be agreed on one thing; succumbing to a Manchester City dynasty would be an improper end to a glittering managerial career.
But turning down a challenge has never been Ferguson's way. The obstacles facing him today are in some ways as big as ever. They may yet prove too much for a man approaching his 70th birthday, but as Bach writes: "There is no disaster that can't become a blessing." While there is a lot of truth to that sentiment, it is also worth mentioning that, for Ferguson, there is no blessing that can't become a disaster either.
Follow the Secret Footballer on Twitter @TSFGuardian
Không có nhận xét nào:
Đăng nhận xét