Comment: Rob Houwing, Sport24 chief writer
Cape Town - “Is he coming on Friday? Aye ... then we’ll get him.”
VIDEO: Air safety by Manchester United
The words of some murky gangland boss to one of his psychopathic, hit-man lieutenants? Actually, no, they come from the mouth of Sir Alex Ferguson, Commander of the Order of the British Empire (CBE).
That was what he was picked up by microphone saying at a press briefing this week ahead of the keenly-awaited Champions League final on Saturday between his Manchester United and favourites Barcelona at Wembley.
Ferguson’s threat, whispered to a club media officer alongside him, came simply because an Associated Press sportswriter (not a designated tabloid muck-stirrer, do note) had dared to ask the innocuous question: “The most experienced Champions League player in the team is obviously Ryan Giggs. How important is he for the team on Saturday?”
Now of course it could reasonably be argued that the reporter was a little deviously linking his query to the fact that supposedly squeaky-clean, 37-year-old Red Devils icon Giggs was at the centre of an injunction storm over revelations of an extra-marital affair with a model.
But given Giggs’s purely footballing reputation and importance to the cause, he was perfectly entitled to ask it -- whether or not Sir Alex chose to put his answer in the context of the controversy or not was entirely up to him, you would have thought.
Should the journalist, Rob Harris, have delicately, deliberately sidestepped any reference at all to Giggs, simply because the likely, blue-chip participant in the prestigious final was embroiled in an off-field personal rumpus? Of course not.
What Ferguson’s short fuse at the press conference (presumably he was not aware that a powerful, TV mike was picking up his spiteful whisper) only underlined, instead, was his ongoing reputation for occasionally being autocratic, volatile and sometimes a rank bully.
Which is a shame because I, for one, quite like in many ways the cantankerous, but sometimes even charming and affable Glaswegian, whose legend in managerial achievement seems emphatically beyond dispute, regardless of whether his underdogs can knock over the stellar Spaniards at Wembley.
I confess, for the little it’s worth, that he got into my good books almost 20 years ago when Manchester United visited South Africa for a succulent, immediately post-isolation tournament also featuring Arsenal (both English powerhouses at full strength) and local favourites Kaizer Chiefs and Orlando Pirates.
Given his reputation for grumpy days alternating with good ‘uns, it was with some trepidation that I directly approached him, as was the instructed decorum at the time, during an Orlando Stadium training session for permission to interview one of his young guns, a certain midfielder recently signed from Nottingham Forest.
“Excuse me, Mr Ferguson (he wasn’t yet Sir Alex) ... would you mind if I approach Roy Keane for a short interview for The Argus newspaper in Cape Town?”
“Aye, I’ve no objection,” he replied, perhaps even with a hint of a twinkle in his eyes, and I duly got my rewarding enough 10 minutes with a still fairly angelic Keano.
Much more recently, I chuckled in minor empathy when Fergie branded Twitter -- a couple of his players had become embroiled in controversy surrounding the social networking device -- “a waste of time”.
I tend to agree that in the case of all too many pro sportspeople, Twitter only confirms their plight as terminal thickos when not dribbling, grabbing or hitting a ball, although his typically old-school counter-suggestion that they instead “go to a library and read a book” might not strike too many modern chords with Premiership footballers, bless them.
But sorry Fergie, you were several, outrageous metres offside in your threat to hapless Rob Harris, showing a petty and unnecessarily vindictive, unbecoming side.
And aren’t you the one who constantly thinks referees get it all so horribly wrong?
Cape Town - “Is he coming on Friday? Aye ... then we’ll get him.”
VIDEO: Air safety by Manchester United
The words of some murky gangland boss to one of his psychopathic, hit-man lieutenants? Actually, no, they come from the mouth of Sir Alex Ferguson, Commander of the Order of the British Empire (CBE).
That was what he was picked up by microphone saying at a press briefing this week ahead of the keenly-awaited Champions League final on Saturday between his Manchester United and favourites Barcelona at Wembley.
Ferguson’s threat, whispered to a club media officer alongside him, came simply because an Associated Press sportswriter (not a designated tabloid muck-stirrer, do note) had dared to ask the innocuous question: “The most experienced Champions League player in the team is obviously Ryan Giggs. How important is he for the team on Saturday?”
Now of course it could reasonably be argued that the reporter was a little deviously linking his query to the fact that supposedly squeaky-clean, 37-year-old Red Devils icon Giggs was at the centre of an injunction storm over revelations of an extra-marital affair with a model.
But given Giggs’s purely footballing reputation and importance to the cause, he was perfectly entitled to ask it -- whether or not Sir Alex chose to put his answer in the context of the controversy or not was entirely up to him, you would have thought.
Should the journalist, Rob Harris, have delicately, deliberately sidestepped any reference at all to Giggs, simply because the likely, blue-chip participant in the prestigious final was embroiled in an off-field personal rumpus? Of course not.
What Ferguson’s short fuse at the press conference (presumably he was not aware that a powerful, TV mike was picking up his spiteful whisper) only underlined, instead, was his ongoing reputation for occasionally being autocratic, volatile and sometimes a rank bully.
Which is a shame because I, for one, quite like in many ways the cantankerous, but sometimes even charming and affable Glaswegian, whose legend in managerial achievement seems emphatically beyond dispute, regardless of whether his underdogs can knock over the stellar Spaniards at Wembley.
I confess, for the little it’s worth, that he got into my good books almost 20 years ago when Manchester United visited South Africa for a succulent, immediately post-isolation tournament also featuring Arsenal (both English powerhouses at full strength) and local favourites Kaizer Chiefs and Orlando Pirates.
Given his reputation for grumpy days alternating with good ‘uns, it was with some trepidation that I directly approached him, as was the instructed decorum at the time, during an Orlando Stadium training session for permission to interview one of his young guns, a certain midfielder recently signed from Nottingham Forest.
“Excuse me, Mr Ferguson (he wasn’t yet Sir Alex) ... would you mind if I approach Roy Keane for a short interview for The Argus newspaper in Cape Town?”
“Aye, I’ve no objection,” he replied, perhaps even with a hint of a twinkle in his eyes, and I duly got my rewarding enough 10 minutes with a still fairly angelic Keano.
Much more recently, I chuckled in minor empathy when Fergie branded Twitter -- a couple of his players had become embroiled in controversy surrounding the social networking device -- “a waste of time”.
I tend to agree that in the case of all too many pro sportspeople, Twitter only confirms their plight as terminal thickos when not dribbling, grabbing or hitting a ball, although his typically old-school counter-suggestion that they instead “go to a library and read a book” might not strike too many modern chords with Premiership footballers, bless them.
But sorry Fergie, you were several, outrageous metres offside in your threat to hapless Rob Harris, showing a petty and unnecessarily vindictive, unbecoming side.
And aren’t you the one who constantly thinks referees get it all so horribly wrong?