Alex Ferguson, can you hear me?

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This might just be my opportunity to recount this true story to my fellow blues ...

This is a story I've managed to keep from this venereal organ for many years. It's one I've recounted to many blues and friends over the years with reactions ranging from incredulity and bemusement to apoplectic laughter. So now I shall put it out into the public domain..for posterity shall we say... I worked as a postman for the Royal Mail during the 80's and 90's and during one particular stint at North Mcr delivery office I was asked to substitute a round for my colleague (also a blue btw)who was off sick. It was around pre season/autumn of our 88/89 promotion season (something I fact checked for a reason I will divulge later on in this piece.) The round I was covering was The Cliff area of Salford 7 which natually included the training ground which was then occupied by the evil empire's first team squad. Having spent time on the sorting desks I'd noticed quite a few copies of the Glasgow Herald passing through the office. These were addressed to one Mr. Alex Ferguson, MUFC Training ground The Cliff. On this day it was MY responsibility to ensure the safe delivery of this austere publication. I aproached the main entrance with some trepidation merely expecting to hand over the said item to a lackie on duty there. Instead I was directed to some stairs leading to an office at the top. "He's in there " the functionary pointed up. Well I got to the open door looked at the sign and sure enough the name read that of the incumbent manager of "TWGC (TM)" . With a nervous knock I proceeded to enter. Sure enough there he sat behind the desk as I dutifully fulfiled my task in handing him the rolled-up previous night's edition. I stood back and prepared to take my leave. " I've just signed this youngster Wee Sharep(sic) from Torquay for 30 thoosand poonds...he's gonna be gweat!" Unbeknownst to the great man I, as was the custom amongst many blues (and reds for that matter) happened to be wearing my City lapel badge proudly on my jacket. In a response I can only describe as utter indifference I pointed to the shiny round, sky blue and white piece of metal retorting "well actually....." in a manner that clearly intimated that it might just be a false assumption that everyone in those parts would have allegiances towards the dark side. I felt a sudden surge of pride together with a sense of righteousness sent by the archangel Gabriel himself. Unfortunately this was akin to the proverbial red rag (no pun intended) to a bull. " Fuck off oot ma office...yer staying doon ...!!" Had I heard correctly..? Was this an esteemed football manager telling a humble 26 year-old postman from a one parent family living on a nearby council estate to return there and procreate? A man from the traditional Labour heartland of Govan imbued with a clear sense of the protestant work ethic? A union man? What had I done? I left unbowed with a wry smile on my face. As I finished my round the thought came to me that had that been Sir Matt Busby sat behind that desk he would have had the aforementioned lackie bring me up a cuppa and then sat me down to regale me of his fond memories as a player at Maine Rd. , such as the gentleman he was. On return to the office the story went around like wildfire much to the amusement of my fellow posties. The funny thing was that Colin (my friend and regular delivery man on that round) told me he'd never been sent to the office or even encountered the man. I had appeared destined for small piece of anecdotal football history it seems. And that experience has and always will formulate a large part of my opinion on not how successful a manager he was (and it would be churlish not to recognise that even if he did have inordinate amounts of luck at key moments in his career), but on the kind of person he is deep down. "Manners maketh the man" as some great sage once remarked....he was right.
 
jim tolmies perm said:
This might just be my opportunity to recount this true story to my fellow blues ...

This is a story I've managed to keep from this venereal organ for many years. It's one I've recounted to many blues and friends over the years with reactions ranging from incredulity and bemusement to apoplectic laughter. So now I shall put it out into the public domain..for posterity shall we say... I worked as a postman for the Royal Mail during the 80's and 90's and during one particular stint at North Mcr delivery office I was asked to substitute a round for my colleague (also a blue btw)who was off sick. It was around pre season/autumn of our 88/89 promotion season (something I fact checked for a reason I will divulge later on in this piece.) The round I was covering was The Cliff area of Salford 7 which natually included the training ground which was then occupied by the evil empire's first team squad. Having spent time on the sorting desks I'd noticed quite a few copies of the Glasgow Herald passing through the office. These were addressed to one Mr. Alex Ferguson, MUFC Training ground The Cliff. On this day it was MY responsibility to ensure the safe delivery of this austere publication. I aproached the main entrance with some trepidation merely expecting to hand over the said item to a lackie on duty there. Instead I was directed to some stairs leading to an office at the top. "He's in there " the functionary pointed up. Well I got to the open door looked at the sign and sure enough the name read that of the incumbent manager of "TWGC (TM)" . With a nervous knock I proceeded to enter. Sure enough there he sat behind the desk as I dutifully fulfiled my task in handing him the rolled-up previous night's edition. I stood back and prepared to take my leave. " I've just signed this youngster Wee Sharep(sic) from Torquay for 30 thoosand poonds...he's gonna be gweat!" Unbeknownst to the great man I, as was the custom amongst many blues (and reds for that matter) happened to be wearing my City lapel badge proudly on my jacket. In a response I can only describe as utter indifference I pointed to the shiny round, sky blue and white piece of metal retorting "well actually....." in a manner that clearly intimated that it might just be a false assumption that everyone in those parts would have allegiances towards the dark side. I felt a sudden surge of pride together with a sense of righteousness sent by the archangel Gabriel himself. Unfortunately this was akin to the proverbial red rag (no pun intended) to a bull. " Fuck off oot ma office...yer staying doon ...!!" Had I heard correctly..? Was this an esteemed football manager telling a humble 26 year-old postman from a one parent family living on a nearby council estate to return there and procreate? A man from the traditional Labour heartland of Govan imbued with a clear sense of the protestant work ethic? A union man? What had I done? I left unbowed with a wry smile on my face. As I finished my round the thought came to me that had that been Sir Matt Busby sat behind that desk he would have had the aforementioned lackie bring me up a cuppa and then sat me down to regale me of his fond memories as a player at Maine Rd. , such as the gentleman he was. On return to the office the story went around like wildfire much to the amusement of my fellow posties. The funny thing was that Colin (my friend and regular delivery man on that round) told me he'd never been sent to the office or even encountered the man. I had appeared destined for small piece of anecdotal football history it seems. And that experience has and always will formulate a large part of my opinion on not how successful a manager he was (and it would be churlish not to recognise that even if he did have inordinate amounts of luck at key moments in his career), but on the kind of person he is deep down. "Manners maketh the man" as some great sage once remarked....he was right.
Click to expand...


Not in his lifetime…. Arrogant prick (him not you)
 
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