Football: Ferguson draws strength from tales of lost respect

ALEX FERGUSON'S determination to be rewarded in full accordance with the great work he continues to do for Manchester United serves as a reminder of how badly some of his great predecessors in football management were treated.

Most poignantly, on the eve of his funeral, Sir Alf Ramsey, the feted hero of 1966 whose last years were spent resenting scandalous rejection by the Football Association.

The bitterness Ramsey unquestionably felt was understandable. Booted out after failing to qualify for the 1974 World Cup finals, England's most successful manager did not earn enough to ensure a prosperous retirement or private care when facing a terminal illness. To their everlasting shame, the FA did nothing of substance to honour him.

I'm not sure what the moral of this is but one name leads to another. Tottenham Hotspur's greatest manager, Bill Nicholson, creator of the brilliant team that carried all before it in 1961 when becoming the first this century to achieve the Double of League championship and FA Cup, was not invited to sit in the royal box at Wembley when his old club contested this season's Worthington Cup final.

Instead Nicholson, who once ran Tottenham from top to bottom - first to arrive each day, last to leave after making sure all the lights were out - was allocated a seat he limped to with the aid of a stick.

The Sun columnist Richard Littlejohn, a Tottenham supporter, lambasted their crass insensitivity in his column, stating that if the royal box is for royalty then Nicholson should have been sitting there.

Apart from the European Cup which eluded him in 1963, Nicholson won just about everything with teams that met the high standards he set them. Yet Nicholson's idea of reconstruction with himself as football overlord, Danny Blanchflower as team manager and John Giles as player-coach was scorned by a mean-minded board of directors.

Cast aside, Nicholson would eventually return as overseer of Tottenham's scouting system, but it was many years before his efforts were rewarded with a testimonial.

Nobody is entitled to argue with the view that Jock Stein brought a rare presence to football management, but his reward for turning Glasgow Celtic into Scotland's premier force and becoming the first in Britain to capture the European Cup was the suggestion that he should step aside and run the commercial department.

It was the principle that angered Bill Shankly when made aware of the bonus he was to receive for Liverpool's defeat of Leeds United in the 1965 FA Cup final. "It's taken you all these years to win something and this is all you think it's worth," Shankly growled. To a friend he confided that if a fire was ever to consume Anfield he hoped that the directors were lashed to the girders. "Iron doesn't burn you see," he said.

Stories like that emphasise the importance of Ferguson's stand on the issue of a contract said to be worth around pounds 5m over the three years up until his 60th birthday. It is not known whether Manchester United were in easy agreement with Ferguson's demands but the fact that he wasn't the Premiership's best paid manager made no sense.

Maybe there are people still at Old Trafford who remember with embarrassment the disgraceful treatment of Jimmy Murphy, whose efforts following the Munich disaster in 1958 held the club together.

As Matt Busby's loyal assistant, Murphy (he missed the fateful match in Belgrade because of a commitment to the Wales team) also was responsible at the time for bringing United's best young players forward. Bobby Charlton has nothing but the highest praise for his Welsh mentor.

To his sadness Murphy was used and cast aside. Given meagrely paid scouting duties, he died with little but his memories.

The Spanish championship and a European Cup final was not enough to save Terry Venables at Barcelona but he felt no bitterness. Big risk, big money. Ferguson's trick has been to direct attention to the significance of the manager's role.