yeseye
Well-Known Member
The man is a rambling old fool on a par with prince Philip!
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Newcastle. A small club in the North East(Ferguson)
- Thread starter scotty123
- Start date
Nobody has "played into his hands". Stop reading the sun. Just because he pulls more reprehensible bullshit, doesn't mean people forget about his previous transgressions. We're not fucking goldfish.11 angry men said:Baconface has played 2 masterstrokes this week.
Firstly, by becoming the focus of attention and removing the pressure from his players being shit at defending and Rooney being injured. Secondly, he deflected the focus of himself being banned and moved the entire debate onto Alan Pardew and NUFC. By yesterday afternoon, nobody was talking about him being banned anymore, it was all about the war of words with Pardew. Do you see how he gets everyone dancing to his tune? 99% of the people on this thread have played right into his hands. Meanwhile, his team go about their business with little or no pressure on them.
mcmanus
Well-Known Member
11 angry men said:Baconface has played 2 masterstrokes this week.
Firstly, by becoming the focus of attention and removing the pressure from his players being shit at defending and Rooney being injured. Secondly, he deflected the focus of himself being banned and moved the entire debate onto Alan Pardew and NUFC. By yesterday afternoon, nobody was talking about him being banned anymore, it was all about the war of words with Pardew. Do you see how he gets everyone dancing to his tune? 99% of the people on this thread have played right into his hands. Meanwhile, his team go about their business with little or no pressure on them.
Masterstrokes?.
People are taking the piss left, right and centre. The Van Persie nearly dead rants were too easy to rip but that man calling another human a hypocrite takes the fucking biscuit.
malg
Well-Known Member
I'd like him to point me to who it is on here that wanks over Wenger!Bluemoon115 said:A Spud accusing other fans of crying.Crouchinho said:I'm amused that how many people cry about fergie.
Two managers having a dig at each other, not sure why it bothers people
Wenger complains about city's finances every other week, yet people like to wank over him.
If you weren't rivals I doubt you'd care at all about him
Heard it all now.
wilmslowblue
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- 21 May 2007
- Messages
- 359
philiph20 said:He really is despicable, utter filth like the cowardly shithouses who support his club.
like like like
wilmslowblue
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- 21 May 2007
- Messages
- 359
jimharri said:<a class="postlink" href="http://www.nufc-forum.com/nufcforum/index.php?topic=47940.0" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;">http://www.nufc-forum.com/nufcforum/ind ... ic=47940.0</a>corky1970 said:any newcastle forums we can look at to see the hate??
Not as ballistic as this place would be if he said similar about us! There's even some on there that said he had a point about Pardew being worse than him. Strange folk, those geordies.
Closet rags ! The lot of them!
Been dealing with 1 & 2 & 3 & 4 recently! Wish you could have seen the argument I had with some of them in the pub whilst they were getting tonked in the Library! One of them even has a bedroom at his dads house with Man United wallpaper and Giggs and Beckham posters from the 90s! You should have seen how nice Beckhams fringe and Paul Scholes's legs were back then! They also tend to have nothing nice to say about City either. Which tbh should be no surprise to anyone who reads these forums.
RadcliffeRick
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- Joined
- 27 Oct 2011
- Messages
- 8,849
- Location
- Kuala Lumpur Via Radcliffe
- Team supported
- Manchester City since 2008 Chelsea before that :-)
He has finally overstepped the mark and the press have finally woken up to what they have either been ignoring, or actively encouraging, over the years. When he abuses others it makes for easy writing in the press the following day, their work is being done for them by this classless moron.
Over here in Malaysia we get the usual red biased reports from the British press, but today they printed a story written by James Lawton of the Independent called "Monster of the year". Over the years James Lawton has always been the red mouthpiece passing on to those who don't know better the words of the buffoon but even Lawton is appalled by the vicious attacks that have been going on.
If this person, I cannot bring myself to actually write his name, is the role model for youngsters and they see the vicious attacks on officials and other persons involved in the game going unchecked and unpunished then the game is finished. The persons involved in the tragic attack of a referee in Holland recently must have got the idea from somewhere that the officials are someone to be abused and not respected for what they are doing which is, to me, the MOST difficult job in football bar none. The sooner the old wino is on the wrong side of the flower bed the better the game of football will be for everyone.
Over here in Malaysia we get the usual red biased reports from the British press, but today they printed a story written by James Lawton of the Independent called "Monster of the year". Over the years James Lawton has always been the red mouthpiece passing on to those who don't know better the words of the buffoon but even Lawton is appalled by the vicious attacks that have been going on.
If this person, I cannot bring myself to actually write his name, is the role model for youngsters and they see the vicious attacks on officials and other persons involved in the game going unchecked and unpunished then the game is finished. The persons involved in the tragic attack of a referee in Holland recently must have got the idea from somewhere that the officials are someone to be abused and not respected for what they are doing which is, to me, the MOST difficult job in football bar none. The sooner the old wino is on the wrong side of the flower bed the better the game of football will be for everyone.
MSP
Well-Known Member
Some article that...
Monster of the Year Award: Alex Ferguson
You do not get to win the top prize in any set of alternative awards by being any ordinary monster. You have to be Sir Alexander Chapman Ferguson, who will be 71 on New Year's Eve and still about as reflectively self-critical as a boisterous toddler who has just laid waste to a shop filled with the most exquisite Dresden china.
Pick up the pieces and don't bother me, says the expression of the wilful, unrepentant kid.
It was the face of the monster of this year and pretty much any you care to mention when yesterday the Manchester United manager again ridiculed all of his critics, and most pointedly a Newcastle United manager, Alan Pardew, who had had the audacity to suggest that referee Mike Dean and his crew had shown appalling timidity in the face of the latest rampage.
The kernel of his remarks forms a paragraph that might serve well enough as a working guide to the side of his nature which remains exclusively about having his way on the football field. It is a flashpoint of insuperable arrogance and worth at least some passing reacquaintance.
"I was demonstrative but not out of order," he announced. "The press had a field day. The only person they have not spoken to is Barack Obama because he is busy. It is unfortunate but I am the manager of the most famous club in the world. Not Newcastle, a wee club in the North-east."
If Ferguson did not once again bestride English football, if he did not continue to display the staying power of a mule, there would be something quite pitiful about such a declaration.
What a desecration of sporting values, of any sober understanding of your place in the world, you might say. But we cannot say this, at least not with any hope of meaningful effect, because who on earth is more comfortable at the centre of his own existence? Who so easily discharges the pressure of his office with random bursts of outrage? Who regirds himself for the battle with such unassailable self-belief?
Ferguson is beyond criticism. He is football's supreme existential terrorist. He has, for example, created the phenomenon of Fergie Time, a classic example of institutionalised bullying. Give Pardew, who is no angel on the touchline, a little credit for saying the unsayable. How many of his co-workers would have blanched at the invitation?
The truth is that Ferguson has always explored, and always will, the limits of his own aggressive ambition. It is English football's problem that on this, as on so many other matters, it lacks the will to impose reasonable checks and balances. One of the game's most withering critics, Kick It Out leader Lord Ouseley, recently spoke of a moral vacuum at the heart of English football.
He had such a weighty issue as reaction to racism on his mind but it wasn't hard to fill in some other blank spaces – and one had to be the wholesale intimidation of match officials, an example of which, for all his protestations, Ferguson's on Boxing Day set a mark not easy to beat.
He said his arguments and language were in order but his body language was hardly compatible with his huge status in football. Yes, with a nod perhaps to the likes of Real Madrid and Barcelona, he is the manager and recreator of the most famous club in the world, but where was such gravitas on the Old Trafford touchline?
It had been claimed by the imperative of another street ruckus. Of course, it is a little late for him to change and who, anyway, has the nerve and the authority to make a stand? Who will say that if the game is to pull itself back into the realms of reasonable behaviour, and young people are to get a better example from the highest level of football, than some endless fight for every passing advantage, however dubiously achieved, even an achiever of Ferguson's order has to be made to see the point.
In the meantime – and, despite another birthday, it may well remain a long one – it is also necessary to acknowledge the momentum of the master of Old Trafford. It too is monstrous. It pummels the angst-ridden ambitions of his well-heeled neighbour Roberto Mancini. It saw off the brilliant devices of Arsène Wenger some time ago. It invites Rafa Benitez, emboldened by his encouraging but still hardly conclusive work with Chelsea, on to the punch. More than anything else, his rivals have to deal with a relentless and impregnable state of mind.
It is one which eschews the weakness inherent in too much self-doubt and here we have to see that, when familiar criticism lapped around him this week, his great strength was once again revealed. For Ferguson giving an inch is as potentially damaging as donating a mile.
Yes, it is a monstrous approach to the nuances of right and wrong. But then it works, and in all the years of English football never in such a remorseless way. Why would Sir Alex Ferguson ever change?
Maybe one day he will tire of winning a game, scoring an edge, battering down resistance wherever it has the nerve to show its face. Perhaps he will recant, walk away with the admission that sometimes he might have smashed a little too much crockery, bent too far the conventions of what used to be known as fair play.
No, it is not likely – no more than that anyone in football will have the guts to say that no one, not even our most familiar and astonishing monster of the year, has the right to make his own rules.
Monster of the Year Award: Alex Ferguson
You do not get to win the top prize in any set of alternative awards by being any ordinary monster. You have to be Sir Alexander Chapman Ferguson, who will be 71 on New Year's Eve and still about as reflectively self-critical as a boisterous toddler who has just laid waste to a shop filled with the most exquisite Dresden china.
Pick up the pieces and don't bother me, says the expression of the wilful, unrepentant kid.
It was the face of the monster of this year and pretty much any you care to mention when yesterday the Manchester United manager again ridiculed all of his critics, and most pointedly a Newcastle United manager, Alan Pardew, who had had the audacity to suggest that referee Mike Dean and his crew had shown appalling timidity in the face of the latest rampage.
The kernel of his remarks forms a paragraph that might serve well enough as a working guide to the side of his nature which remains exclusively about having his way on the football field. It is a flashpoint of insuperable arrogance and worth at least some passing reacquaintance.
"I was demonstrative but not out of order," he announced. "The press had a field day. The only person they have not spoken to is Barack Obama because he is busy. It is unfortunate but I am the manager of the most famous club in the world. Not Newcastle, a wee club in the North-east."
If Ferguson did not once again bestride English football, if he did not continue to display the staying power of a mule, there would be something quite pitiful about such a declaration.
What a desecration of sporting values, of any sober understanding of your place in the world, you might say. But we cannot say this, at least not with any hope of meaningful effect, because who on earth is more comfortable at the centre of his own existence? Who so easily discharges the pressure of his office with random bursts of outrage? Who regirds himself for the battle with such unassailable self-belief?
Ferguson is beyond criticism. He is football's supreme existential terrorist. He has, for example, created the phenomenon of Fergie Time, a classic example of institutionalised bullying. Give Pardew, who is no angel on the touchline, a little credit for saying the unsayable. How many of his co-workers would have blanched at the invitation?
The truth is that Ferguson has always explored, and always will, the limits of his own aggressive ambition. It is English football's problem that on this, as on so many other matters, it lacks the will to impose reasonable checks and balances. One of the game's most withering critics, Kick It Out leader Lord Ouseley, recently spoke of a moral vacuum at the heart of English football.
He had such a weighty issue as reaction to racism on his mind but it wasn't hard to fill in some other blank spaces – and one had to be the wholesale intimidation of match officials, an example of which, for all his protestations, Ferguson's on Boxing Day set a mark not easy to beat.
He said his arguments and language were in order but his body language was hardly compatible with his huge status in football. Yes, with a nod perhaps to the likes of Real Madrid and Barcelona, he is the manager and recreator of the most famous club in the world, but where was such gravitas on the Old Trafford touchline?
It had been claimed by the imperative of another street ruckus. Of course, it is a little late for him to change and who, anyway, has the nerve and the authority to make a stand? Who will say that if the game is to pull itself back into the realms of reasonable behaviour, and young people are to get a better example from the highest level of football, than some endless fight for every passing advantage, however dubiously achieved, even an achiever of Ferguson's order has to be made to see the point.
In the meantime – and, despite another birthday, it may well remain a long one – it is also necessary to acknowledge the momentum of the master of Old Trafford. It too is monstrous. It pummels the angst-ridden ambitions of his well-heeled neighbour Roberto Mancini. It saw off the brilliant devices of Arsène Wenger some time ago. It invites Rafa Benitez, emboldened by his encouraging but still hardly conclusive work with Chelsea, on to the punch. More than anything else, his rivals have to deal with a relentless and impregnable state of mind.
It is one which eschews the weakness inherent in too much self-doubt and here we have to see that, when familiar criticism lapped around him this week, his great strength was once again revealed. For Ferguson giving an inch is as potentially damaging as donating a mile.
Yes, it is a monstrous approach to the nuances of right and wrong. But then it works, and in all the years of English football never in such a remorseless way. Why would Sir Alex Ferguson ever change?
Maybe one day he will tire of winning a game, scoring an edge, battering down resistance wherever it has the nerve to show its face. Perhaps he will recant, walk away with the admission that sometimes he might have smashed a little too much crockery, bent too far the conventions of what used to be known as fair play.
No, it is not likely – no more than that anyone in football will have the guts to say that no one, not even our most familiar and astonishing monster of the year, has the right to make his own rules.