The Only One I Know
This article originally appeared in the independent Manchester United fanzine, Rednews, in 2013 (when I was 31). The piece looks back at Alex Ferguson’s time as the manager of the club and how that impacted my own life.
I’m 31 and in my lifetime there have been more Prime Ministers than United managers. Although Ron Atkinson was in charge when I was born, Sir Alex Ferguson is the only manager I’ve ever known. I’ve seen footage of a pre Ferguson world, obviously. I know my history, if you like. But none of my own footballing memories take place without Ferguson being The Boss.
Ferguson came to United the year I started primary school and he stayed through secondary school and college. He was the manager when I went travelling, when I got married and when my son was born. I know people of my age who can add divorce to that list. That’s how it has been for my generation of football fans. He has always been there. Speaking to friends who support other clubs, although they are glad he’s retired from a footballing perspective, the fact he’s not going to be around; no press conferences, no chewing on the touchline, no comic handclap goal celebrations, is something they find very strange.
Ferguson has been present in my life longer than any other, apart from my family. Friends have emigrated, relationships have ended, even my beloved have Oasis split up. A close friend of mine lost his Nanna three days after Ferguson announced his retirement. My friend said he felt like he had lost two relatives. Every time he stopped thinking about his Nanna, he ended up thinking about a United without Ferguson. My friend grew up in a single parent household and doesn’t know his Dad. He credits the role model of Alex Ferguson; a guy who never gave up, never let anything defeat him, as a massive influence on his life.
When I mentioned the comparison of losing a Grandparent to an older red I know, his reaction was, “You can’t compare a football manager retiring to somebody dying.” Whilst I agree with him in principal, I also think he’s missed the point. Ferguson has been such a consistent figure in my generation’s lives, that imagining a footballing landscape without him seems strange. Like a Grandparent dying, we knew the day would come when he wouldn’t be there anymore, but it still doesn’t make accepting the news any less sad.
For many, Grandparents are a fixture in our early memories, people who play a significant role in our lives. We don’t always understand the impact they have on us, but their constant presence makes us feel reassured, comforted in knowing someone else is looking out for you. That’s how I felt about Ferguson. No matter what stage I was at in my life, I knew I didn’t have to worry about United. Fergie had it taken care off. We didn’t always win, but we had the best manager in charge and that gave me a secure feeling.
I started following United in the late 80s. My first game was a one all draw against Sheffield Wednesday in the season we lost the old First Division title to Leeds. I remember being pushed through the standing crowd to the front of the Scoreboard Paddock where two teenagers were sat on a bar at the front, pressed against the fence. Both moved up and said, “Get in there mate.” I squeezed on the bar; very quiet, unsure of how to behave, but feeling welcomed into the United fold. It was such a simple act but it made me feel like one of them.
Moments of Ferguson’s United career are, in my mind, linked to my history. He was appointed the year I started primary school but it took until my last year there for that elusive league title to be won. As I moved on to the bigger and better things of secondary school, so did United, winning the double. During my first year in college I was earning a regular wage, drinking in pubs for the first time in my life, passing my driving test. It was ‘98/99. United were winning the treble. Ferguson’s next Champions League came in 2008, the year I got married.
His work, his teams and his achievements have made my life better. I’ve travelled to places I probably never would’ve gone otherwise, enjoyed moments with friends that I will remember forever, seen moments of sporting history, all due to his successes. The treble of ‘99 was shared with my group of 17 year old friends, all experiencing the freedom of being a young adult with no responsibilities. No more school, out most nights, United winning the treble. What more could you ask for? The best man at my wedding was the lad I had my season ticket with. Our love of United was one of the things that helped us become friends many years ago.
The game has changed so dramatically in the last 27 years. The challenges and changes Ferguson had to deal with as a manager are the same things we have had to face as fans. The impact of Sky TV’s millions, for all its positives, has seen the moving of kick off times to suit a TV audience, players being bought and sold for astronomical transfer fees, growing egos of not just the players but their agents. For my generation, our first heroes have retired, the style of play is different and the grounds we first walked into have been rebuilt or replaced. Through all these changes Ferguson still stood on the touchline, chewing his gum, pointing and shouting, celebrating with that funny little clap. He was the last reminder, the last link, to the football world my generation fell in love with.
His retirement did not shock me. His age, the level of achievements, the reclaiming of the title from City, all point towards it being the right time for him to move on. The thing about the announcement that leaves such a strange feeling for me is just the fact he simply won’t be there.
As I stood emotional in the Stretford End whilst he gave his final speech, it didn’t feel like a death. It reminded me of when a childhood friend emigrated to New Zealand. We knew we would keep in touch, knew we would see each other again. But as we said our goodbyes, we both knew it’d never be the same.