In Praise of Fergie

Here's an ugly truth for you. Alex Ferguson, Sir, is the finest football manager the English game has ever seen. I mean that's uglier than a close-up of Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber's face mid-shit.

'How come I cannae see any decent opposition through this specs?'

I can hear the protests from the Scouse brigade but the Liverpool dynasty wasn't just one bloke was it? There'll be some advocates for Cloughie and maybe he did more turd-polishing with the players at his disposal but...

And there'll be some that argue that he can't be the best manager ever cos he's bleeding 'orrible. That opinion's got about as much influence as a Liberal in a cabinet meeting.

This latest outfit at Old Trafford are proof positive of Fergie's greatness. It's not a great team. The midfield's had a creativity bypass unless old man Giggs is Pilated in. The bench is pretty threadbare if you ask me. And if Vidic or Rio is out the back four's distinctly creaky.

Hellfire the Croxteth Bruiser was set to leave cos he recognised the shortcomings. Now Rooney's buzzing again and looking like the bastard son of Susan Boyle and Roy of the Rovers.

(Incidentally, Graeme Souness - emphatically not the best manager the English game's ever seen - insists that Rooney needs to be angry to play well. That is of course self-serving bollocks. Souness was always angry and it suits him to suggest other people need to be similarly furious.)

So how come United are still on for the treble? Well mainly cos Fergie's got them playing in a way that suits them. His reincarnations of United over the years have been little short of amazing.

First of all there was the Party Central brigade of Robson (get well soon), Brucey and co who he managed to dry out enough to keep going for a whole season. Then there was Hansen's 'kids' - a bunch of squeaky-voiced schoolboys who matured into top-class footballers once Robbie Savage had left. Not long ago he had Ronaldo, Tevez and Rooney criss-crossing across the opposition back-line like the Red Arrows in human form.

This season he's got a ploddy steady grind-it-out bunch of triers. Plus the best goalscorer in the division who cost him 6 million (I mean Chiquitita or whatever he's called - a snip).

He's not stuck to the same formations or looked for the same types. Not for him the tippy-tappy automatons of Arsenal. Or the steely-eyed mercenaries heeding the whiff of Roman's wallet.

He's made the best of what he's got or paid shed-bloody-loads when he's had to.

Yes he's bought a lot of duffers along the way: Djemba-Djemba (so shite they named him twice); Poborsky (he should've torn up that Czech a lot sooner); and Kleberson? Well not clever, son...

'What?... No boss I never ordered no taxi!

But he's made legends of looneys like Cantona, he's been patient with gelled show-ponies like Ronaldo and Nani, and his 1999 front pair were Cole and Yorke - I mean you'd have to be a genius to think that that was going to work.

It's an astounding record. There are things we can do without when it comes to Fergie. The gratuitous ref-bashing. The absurd mentality that makes him think United are being victimised just cos Rooney's gets banned for being a plank and he gets put it in the stands for saying the ref was biased.

He could also talk to the Beeb and stop sending Stonewall Phelan in to bat for him. It's petty and tedious. Then again the good managers seem to be able to harness their neurosis for the good of the team.

And there's the mysterious way he seems to manipulate time to encompass his team's victories.

(Maybe Rory McIlroy could do with his bunker mentality. Poor lamb. For three days he trotted around that course like a finely-tuned Goofy - and for the last round he was little short of a grief-stricken Donald Duck.)

It's clear Ferguson inspires loyalty, that's for sure. Some of the steady Eddies that have stuck there cos he's stuck with them: Brown, O'Shea, Fletcher... you've never heard them bleating about lack of first-team opportunities like the vast cellar of whines across the city at Eastlands.

Now I realise this blog will be coming as a great surprise to a lot of you. But the thing is I've been waiting for the demise/retirement of the Govan Beetroot for about fifteen years now.

I've been watching his touchline-jig getting more and more like your pissed Uncle attempting a hokey-kokey at your cousin's wedding. I've been waiting with baited breath as the noisy neighbours pelt him with wads of Abu-Dhabian wonga. I've watching the face redden as the old boy seems ready to reach for the blanket and the thermos.

(And while he does like his red wine, I reckon the boozy complexion must be down to the same condition as I've got - rosacea, it's called. You can alleviate the symptoms by cutting down on alcohol and spicy food so it looks like I'm stuck with it.)

Skin complaints? Bring 'em on.

Only Mourinho has kept Fergie under during all that time. And Wenger's Untouchables for one glorious strong-tackling season. Be great if real And United could fight it out at Wembley in the Champs League Final. The footy wouldn't be great but you could just watch the dug-outs for 90 minutes.

So do I like Ferguson? Nah. Not much. Am I saying he could've done all this without United's cash? Nah. And while there's still some debt for the Glazers to offload there'll still be money in Fergie's kitty.

But he's bloody good at his job. I mean I don't like our postie much either - he's always trying to charm the missus and he can't whistle in tune (I'm thinking of getting a dog) - but so long as he gets my letters to me I don't much care.

So fair play to him. I reckon a double at least this season. Barca'll probably stop him in Europe. But for him, at his age, with his track record, to be able to get that pretty ordinary side to two semis and a pretty certain Premier League.

The best ever? Fact. Rafa.

Now piss off and leave the rest of us in peace you gruff n greedy Glaswegian codger.