Few football fans would suggest that Sir Alex Ferguson had much in common with Margaret Thatcher, the former PM who passed away recently. Ferguson’s Govan shipyard background installed a lifetime association with the Labour Party, and it is unlikely that he had much time for the Iron Lady’s policies during her tenure at Number 10.
However, one undeniable truth is that both characters could boast an uncanny ability to polarise opinion when it comes to the matter of assessing their impact within their chosen fields, not to mention their popularity among their peers. ‘My way or the highway’ was their mantra of choice, it seems.
Thatcher’s legacy was recently scrutinised in the wake of her death, and it is clear that people loved her and loathed her in equal measure. The suspicion is that Fergie has inspired similarly fluctuating opinions when it comes to considering his impact during a managerial career that spans four decades, a steady supply of silverware, and enough spats to satisfy sports editors up and down the country.
In Scotland, of course, Ferguson will always be remembered as the man who broke the Old Firm duopoly (for a while at least), providing welcome respite from the predictably familiar sight of silverware being draped in either blue or green. This thirst for success was typical of the man, and he forged a reputation for ruthlessness in his quest for glory. That Scottish football soon reverted to type (Aberdeen have been a shadow of the 1980s vintage ever since) once Ferguson moved south would be lost on nobody.
Of course, Ferguson lost little sleep over those with whom he fell out as Aberdeen swept all before them. For every player who met with his vociferous approval – Willie Miller and Alex McLeish, for instance – others were utilised before being banished the moment they either lost form or, perhaps more to the point, they met with the manger’s personal disapproval.
Within this latter category, Jim Leighton could be included. The irony here being that it was at Manchester United and not Aberdeen that the former Scotland goalkeeper was hastily cast into the footballing wilderness.
To many observers, Ferguson simply thrived on confrontation. Be it with players, officials, reporters or fellow managers, he appeared to welcome the opportunity to take people on at every turn, and for all he’s currently revelling within the plaudits that pervade in light of his announcement to retire, there will be many who will shed few tears at his departure.
Even many of those who have been praising Ferguson in recent days have done so with a glint in their eye, as if to acknowledge that the great man wasn’t always exactly the easiest of people to work with.
Ferguson has enjoyed more run-ins than most over the years. In terms of his time at Old Trafford, the likes of David Beckham can wax lyrical all he likes about Ferguson being like a ‘father figure’ to him. But their relationship bit the dust a few years back, when Beckham’s celebrity status far outweighed his contribution on the pitch.
Others too left in rather acrimonious circumstances, from Jaap Stam to Roy Keane to Brian Kidd – it’s a lengthy list if you’re willing to dig deep enough.
As for fellow managers, few will forget the clashes down the years with Arsène Wenger, Rafael Benitez, Josè Mourinho, Kevin Keegan and co. Wenger, in particular, was the focus of Ferguson’s ire, although, strangely enough, this softened somewhat when the Gunners’ challenge to United’s supremacy faltered.
North of the border, many supporters still regret that Fergie was never tempted to assume the role of manager of the national team, aside from a temporary spell in charge in 1985/86 following the death of Jock Stein.
We can say with some certainty that the national side’s failure to qualify for the major tournaments over the past 15 years would have been prevented had Ferguson been in charge. And, even now, you suspect that the position would be more suitable for the likes of Ferguson than Gordon Strachan, who has to entertain us as a TV pundit to fill in his obvious swathes of spare time. Alas, that will never happen now.
Referees will be particularly delighted at Ferguson’s departure, of course, and journalists who have been rewarded with a cursory ‘well done’ from the great man after surviving a post-match interview with him will be happy to interrogate other more amenable souls in future.
All that said, the consensus is that football will never be quite the same again when Ferguson has gone. He’d been around so long, we assumed he’d be there for ever – even his sworn enemies will acknowledge that the game will be a duller affair for his departure.
Like the aforementioned Thatcher, you didn’t have to agree with Ferguson to acknowledge the impact he had within his profession, even if that meant rubbing a few souls up the wrong way in pursuit of success. Football, like politics, rarely thrusts the nice guys to the top of the managerial tree.