I had to take on Fergie AND my own board.. it was like fighting Mike Tyson with one hand tied behind my back

FROM a distance I admired Bob Paisley, and the same went for Brian Clough.

But when it comes down to it, Sir Alex Ferguson’s longevity and peerless ability to win trophies marks him out as the finest manager of modern times.

In my first job, as playermanager at Manchester City, I had to take him on at the same time as my own board. It was like fighting Mike Tyson with one hand behind my back.

I’ve always felt that if City had shown a bit more ambition 25 years ago, we might have been able to hold on to Manchester United’s coat-tails more than we did.

Alas, as many of my predecessors discovered, what City managers wanted and what they got during that era were very often two different things.

I was a managerial novice at a club with a reputation for chewing up managers and spitting them out.

The board was a strange mix of old money and wealthy brewers, but chairman Peter Swales dominated everything. To keep United within range, we had to buy better players, an ambition every City manager struggled to achieve for 30 years until Sheikh Mansour arrived to bankroll the club.

The signing we missed out on I regret the most was John Barnes. He became one of the world’s best at Liverpool, and as soon as I found out he was up for grabs I asked the chairman to get a deal done.

Barnes was top of my list before the 1993-94 season, but I also urged the board to sign Andy Townsend, Paul Stewart and Geoff Thomas. I got none. What made it worse was I knew they wanted to join us.

I had set up a deal for Townsend in strange circumstances a few months earlier.

We were playing at Chelsea towards the end of the previous season and I fouled him. He jumped up to have a go and I said: “You’re on a free in the summer. How do you fancy coming to join us?” It must be the only time a manager has tapped up a transfer target by smashing him on the pitch – but my efforts came to nothing.

Townsend went to Aston Villa and did really well, and the only player we signed was Alfons Groenendijk from Ajax for £200,000. In the same summer, United signed Roy Keane for a British-record fee. All I can say is you get what you pay for.

There’s no doubt Swales was a political animal. He sacked 11 managers. As I was one of them, I can give my verdict – I never felt comfortable with him or felt I could trust him.

After coming fifth in my first two seasons at City, we finished ninth. To make matters worse, United had won the title for the first time since 1967, so Swales’s trigger finger began to get itchy. He brought in John Maddock, a journalist who was his mate, to work above me as general manager.

It was the perfect storm – United were champions, the chairman’s pockets were sewn up and I was under pressure.

Four games into the 1993-94 season and I was out. I knew the end was nigh when Swales told me to sack my assistant Sam Ellis and I refused.

Unlike Martin Edwards and the United board, who gave Fergie every chance when results were poor, City’s hierarchy wasn’t inclined to give a struggling boss time.

After we lost 1-0 at Spurs, Maddock came in and said: “Rick Holden – it’s a waste of time having him out there.”

Attacking one of my players was a cardinal sin to me. “F*** off, you fat c***,” I said.

“You can’t talk to me like that,” he replied, but I wasn’t about to back down. A line had been crossed.

“I just did,” I said. “Now f*** off.” A few days later, I was gone – but at least I’d had my say.