LVG lacks traits that made Sir Alex great
WHEN Sir Alex Ferguson made his way up the stairs to the media centre at Carrington each Friday, there was always a sense of anxiety and anticipation. You had to bring your A-game.
Nobody took a liberty with Fergie — or his football club — and got away with it. Control freak that he was, it was all done for a reason.
‘ Stories never come out of Manchester United,’ Fergie would proudly boast to his acolytes.
Although it wasn’t entirely accurate, those who cover the club on a daily basis will confirm that it was certainly a damn sight harder to get a story in those days.
Under Louis van Gaal’s leadership the club is a leaky bucket, with plenty of people with connections to United willing to give five minutes of their time to disclose the latest goings-on.
It has come to this because Van Gaal’s methods are constantly being compared with the glory days under the greatest manager in the history of the club: ‘What would Fergie have done?’
There are little things, seemingly inconsequential, such as Ferguson’s habit of addressing members of staff by their Christian names and saying ‘good morning’.
It made a difference to their day, recognition from the manager of one of the world’s biggest clubs that the tea ladies and groundstaff had an important part to play in the smooth running of the operation.
Van Gaal (below) is very different, expecting staff to show deference when they pass in corridors at Carrington or Old Trafford. There is no warmth to the man.
Ferguson took charge of the club, directing his own press conferences by ritually starting with an analysis of the next opponents before a question could be asked.
He sensed weakness, pinning journalists down with an intimidating stare whenever they stumbled over a sentence or failed to put their point across coherently. Nobody was safe from the hair-dryer if they messed up.
‘The Manager’, as the staff at United referred to him, ruled the roost and he made sure everybody knew who was boss.
There was an aura about the place, something that was transmitted right across the club and into the first-team dressing room. Every player in that room had Ferguson’s backing. There was a line — Fergie’s line — and if you crossed it, there was every chance that you would get a call from the club’s highly-regarded press officer Karen Shotbolt to tell you that your days as a journalist at Carrington were over.
Ferguson certainly had his moments, upending dictaphones when he lost his temper, but you knew that it was all being done to protect his lot. In Fergie’s day —
that phrase again — when opposition teams stood in the tunnel and scanned a line of players that included legends such as Rio Ferdinand, David Beckham, Paul Scholes and Ryan Giggs, they would be beaten before they had even stepped out on to the pitch. That air of invincibility has disappeared, partly because the club was ill-prepared to deal with the departures of Ferguson, his brother and chief scout Martin, and chief executive David Gill. Instead Ed Woodward, the executive vice-chairman, has been busy undermining the manager’s authority even further this week by canvassing senior players about the manager. It is obvious to everyone that it has gone too far, that Van Gaal has reached the point of no return with this team. Calling Sun journalist Neil Custis ‘fat man’ after the draw with Newcastle earlier this month got some cheap laughs, but the 64-year- old Dutchman also lost a lot of goodwill with that unnecessary comment. It was not becoming of a Manchester United manager. He was in defiant mood again ahead of United’s FA Cup fourthround tie at Derby County tonight, but that has become a monotonous, weekly theme at Van Gaal’s press conferences. If he wants people off his back, just win football matches.