FERGIE

FERGIE? You either love him or you hate him, they say. But some of us Manchester United season ticket-holders manage to do both. It is hard for any United fan to be objective about Sir Alex Ferguson when he gets so much stick from everybody else. But in quieter moments (which can occur in the middle of a match at Old Trafford), some of us have more ambivalent feelings.

He is the unstoppable force that has got United where they are today. He is
also the immovable object that holds the club back. He is a great manager who inspires loyalty and leads from the front. He is also a poor coach and amateurish tactician.

He is the transfer market wizard who picked up the priceless talents of Eric
Cantona for £1.3 million from Leeds United. And he is the mug punter who
paid Leeds £30 million (count them) for the forgetful elephant called Rio
Ferdinand.

We love Fergie's old-fashioned football attitude, his passionate,
Ahm-fi-Govan, fight-'em-on-the-touchlines, youse-are-all-f***ing-eejits
approach to everything. But some of us also hate Fergie's old-fashioned
attitude to football.

Ferguson has been a big enough man of the world to handle such wayward stars as a Cantona or a Keane. But from my seat in the North Stand, he can also look like a small-minded prig. He likes good boys who do as he tells them on and off the pitch and holds grudges against some who don't. He is right to
insist that nobody is bigger than Manchester United. But he seems self-righteous enough to exclude himself from that rule.

By sheer force of will, shoved United past Arsenal to regain the Premiership title. This was arguably Ferguson's finest hour in domestic football, but a nagging voice inside my head kept saying: "You know what this means? We'll never, ever get rid of the old bugger now!"

So the cry is Fergie forever, Fergie out, sometimes both within the space
of one game. Either way, it's Fergie - bloody hell!