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Heres another article that might interest you.
In an exclusive interview, the Manchester United manager offers candid reflections on his remarkable career - and sets his retirement date
It is one of Sir Alex Ferguson's greatest strengths. When the chips are down – and, boy, were they down at 1.34am in the Luzhniki Stadium in Moscow on May 22 – the Manchester United manager retains an almost superhuman ability to project an aura of invincibility.
Just as he had looked unflappable on the touchline at the Nou Camp in Barcelona nine years earlier, when his first Champions League final entered stoppage time with United trailing Bayern Munich 1-0, so Ferguson was a picture of Buddhist calm when John Terry stepped up to take the penalty that, if converted, would have allowed Chelsea to lift the European Cup.
So, was that expression born of the unwavering self-belief that the tables would be turned again? “No, I thought we were done,†Ferguson says, shaking his head as if he still cannot comprehend the situation. “I thought we were done.â€
But you looked so defiant, so confident. “I think that's true,†he says. “But when they took their second-last penalty I clasped my hands and I prayed. He nearly saved it, [Edwin] Van der Sar. But once the ball went in I said to myself, ‘Don't ever pray again.'
“Because when I was in my first cup final as manager of Aberdeen we were 1-0 up, and Rangers scored two goals in the last two minutes of injury time. . . I had prayed as well, that day, and I thought I would never do it again. They beat us 2-1, even though I had prayed to God.â€
Ferguson doesn't open up to the media much these days. Press briefings are kept to a minimum, journalists are banned with almost comical regularity, one-on-one interviews are as rare as silverware is for Manchester City and just about everyone is left wanting more; which is why it always seems such a treat when the greatest British manager of his generation – possibly ever – lowers his guard long enough to offer an insight into one of sport's more extraordinary minds.
One of the accusations that has been levelled at the United manager in the past is that he is a bully. So is he? “Absolutely not,†Ferguson says. “I did look up ‘bully' in the dictionary once. And as I remember, it said a bully is somebody who preys on the weak – where weak is defined as somebody weaker than they [the bully] are.
“If you look at some of the people I have stood up to over the years, as a manager – and I have had dust-ups with all sorts of people in that dressing-room – generally speaking they are much, much bigger than me. There is nothing bullying about that.â€
OK, so what, if anything or anybody, scares you? “Er . . . there were one or two footballers who were . . . †Ferguson pauses. “Fear is a funny thing, isn't it?†he continues. “I think when you drive, you have a fear. In heavy traffic. When it's going quickly.â€
Brilliant. The image of Ferguson quivering behind the wheel of his Audi A8 as other cars bomb past on the motorway must surely be one of the most unlikely imaginable. That, presumably, must be why he usually employs a chauffeur.
But surely there is somebody who has put the frighteners up you? “Well, the Celtic defender John McNamee, mainly,†Ferguson says. “I phoned him up to tell him I was mentioning him in Managing My Life [his 1999 autobiography], and he was killing himself laughing. He was a daunting figure.â€
McNamee's footballing philosophy was summed up during a visit by Chelsea to St James' Park in the late1960s. Minutes into the game, Alan Birchenall, the Chelsea midfield player, embarked on a mazy run from the right flank. McNamee, by then a hero at Newcastle United, ordered his full back to swap places and proceeded to belt Birchenall on to the cinder track.
In an exclusive interview, the Manchester United manager offers candid reflections on his remarkable career - and sets his retirement date
It is one of Sir Alex Ferguson's greatest strengths. When the chips are down – and, boy, were they down at 1.34am in the Luzhniki Stadium in Moscow on May 22 – the Manchester United manager retains an almost superhuman ability to project an aura of invincibility.
Just as he had looked unflappable on the touchline at the Nou Camp in Barcelona nine years earlier, when his first Champions League final entered stoppage time with United trailing Bayern Munich 1-0, so Ferguson was a picture of Buddhist calm when John Terry stepped up to take the penalty that, if converted, would have allowed Chelsea to lift the European Cup.
So, was that expression born of the unwavering self-belief that the tables would be turned again? “No, I thought we were done,†Ferguson says, shaking his head as if he still cannot comprehend the situation. “I thought we were done.â€
But you looked so defiant, so confident. “I think that's true,†he says. “But when they took their second-last penalty I clasped my hands and I prayed. He nearly saved it, [Edwin] Van der Sar. But once the ball went in I said to myself, ‘Don't ever pray again.'
“Because when I was in my first cup final as manager of Aberdeen we were 1-0 up, and Rangers scored two goals in the last two minutes of injury time. . . I had prayed as well, that day, and I thought I would never do it again. They beat us 2-1, even though I had prayed to God.â€
Ferguson doesn't open up to the media much these days. Press briefings are kept to a minimum, journalists are banned with almost comical regularity, one-on-one interviews are as rare as silverware is for Manchester City and just about everyone is left wanting more; which is why it always seems such a treat when the greatest British manager of his generation – possibly ever – lowers his guard long enough to offer an insight into one of sport's more extraordinary minds.
One of the accusations that has been levelled at the United manager in the past is that he is a bully. So is he? “Absolutely not,†Ferguson says. “I did look up ‘bully' in the dictionary once. And as I remember, it said a bully is somebody who preys on the weak – where weak is defined as somebody weaker than they [the bully] are.
“If you look at some of the people I have stood up to over the years, as a manager – and I have had dust-ups with all sorts of people in that dressing-room – generally speaking they are much, much bigger than me. There is nothing bullying about that.â€
OK, so what, if anything or anybody, scares you? “Er . . . there were one or two footballers who were . . . †Ferguson pauses. “Fear is a funny thing, isn't it?†he continues. “I think when you drive, you have a fear. In heavy traffic. When it's going quickly.â€
Brilliant. The image of Ferguson quivering behind the wheel of his Audi A8 as other cars bomb past on the motorway must surely be one of the most unlikely imaginable. That, presumably, must be why he usually employs a chauffeur.
But surely there is somebody who has put the frighteners up you? “Well, the Celtic defender John McNamee, mainly,†Ferguson says. “I phoned him up to tell him I was mentioning him in Managing My Life [his 1999 autobiography], and he was killing himself laughing. He was a daunting figure.â€
McNamee's footballing philosophy was summed up during a visit by Chelsea to St James' Park in the late1960s. Minutes into the game, Alan Birchenall, the Chelsea midfield player, embarked on a mazy run from the right flank. McNamee, by then a hero at Newcastle United, ordered his full back to swap places and proceeded to belt Birchenall on to the cinder track.