Peter Corrigan: Fergie fires a weapon of mass distraction

Anyone who thought that a stud in the eyebrow was a trendy fashion accessory would have been left in no doubt by the furore of the past week that it symbolises all that is mockingly oafish about our national game – or so it would seem according to the massed ranks of the media.

That description does not include the sporting element of the fraternity. Left to us, the tale of how a football boot kicked in a flush of anger by Sir Alex Ferguson in the Manchester United dressing-room caught David Beckham just above the left eye would have retained some proportion. The story was an excellent exclusive for the Sun and was worthy of the utmost hilarity it caused among football followers, especially the high proportion who rejoice in any United discomfort.

But it was extraordinary how enthusiastically it was pounced on by communicators of all description, from the breakfast patrols on air and screen to the late-evening news programmes and through all sections of the newspapers.

Even the gravest, most po-faced pundits in the land could not resist conducting an autopsy. One is left with the distinct impression of a large number of opinion-mongers with more space and time than they know what to do with; either that, or they have all gone stir-crazy waiting for the war to start.

It was noticeable, however, that there was no rush to create a bandwagon for the real football story of the week – Ferguson's revelation that the England coach, Sven Goran Eriksson, had been lined up to replace him at Old Trafford when he was due to retire last year. Ferguson did not retire, of course, so a succession wasn't necessary, but if it was to have been Eriksson the news is a distinct embarrassment. For an England coach to be negotiating for another job behind the backs of his employers and the nation is tantamount to treason.

Ferguson made the allegation in an interview with the Times magazine which was published yesterday. What he actually said was: "They'd done the deal all right. I don't know for certain but I'm sure it was Eriksson. I think they had shaken hands."

In order to boost sales, the story was leaked in advance, a decision that now has to be put into a file called "Major Blunders". By Friday night, United had officially denied that Eriksson had even been approached, Eriksson said nothing but made it known he was fuming, and Ferguson was rapidly backtracking. "I swear on my kids' lives that I had absolutely no idea who they wanted. I thought Eriksson was the best for the job. That was my opinion," he said, ensuring that when the interview was printed it had been well-rubbished in advance.

Ferguson also attempted to play down comments that threw doubts on Eriksson's management style. He was quoted as saying: "I think he would have been a nice easy choice for United in terms of nothing really happens, does it?

"He doesn't change anything. He sails along, nobody falls out with him. The acceptable face."

That is not an opinion that would be regarded as even slightly controversial by many, certainly not in this quarter, but it is unfortunate in that if Eriksson is going to achieve anything for England his relationship with leading club managers needs to be on a more amicable and cooperative footing than is likely to result from this affair.

But what we have seen this week is nothing if not vintage Ferguson, and a raw exhibition of the passionate way he goes about his calling. He is a remarkable man with an admirable record of accomplishment.

In years gone by, men driven by an eccentric genius have contributed massively to football's fascination – the same applies to most sports – and they certainly don't detract from the enjoyment of the genuine aficionados.

That he should attract the curiosity of outsiders is natural enough, but it is another indication of how sport has so heavily infiltrated the awareness of those who would prefer to remain aloof.

I have spent the past 20 years writing this column, which made its debut in another Sunday newspaper in January 1983 because it was felt we ought to have a sporting editorial. Many said I would struggle for subjects within a few weeks.

There have been times when the Good Lord has been a little late with the ideas, but for the last decade or more the hot topics have been queueing up. Drugs, money, corruption, power battles... sport has acquired many bad habits from what I might term normal life, and along the way an army of columnists has been recruited to keep pace with them. And the number of times sport strays on to the front pages and into the general editorial columns these days is further testimony to how far it has advanced into the mainstream of our national life.

This development has not been always to the benefit of sport, because our excesses invite comments which are not entirely well-informed and rarely sympathetic.

Twenty years ago, a story like the Beckham eyebrow affair would have bounced merrily around the sports pages but would not have attracted the attention of the outside world and would have remained comfortably in its context.

At that time, of course, we had neither agents nor PR men to help stories along. Beckham, I understand, has two PR advisers; one for everyday use and one for best. The latter is a showbiz type used by his wife Victoria, aka Posh Spice, and who may have been instrumental in Beckham's demeanour on the day after the story broke.

It was no accident then that Beckham appeared with an Alice band keeping his hair back from his forehead and his wound clearly marked by tape so that photographers could not miss it.

If Ferguson had any public relations nous, it would have all been settled quickly. It was a freak occurrence, no lasting harm was done and I understand that the manager apologised at the time.

The clincher was that United beat Juventus on Wednesday and Beckham had a very good game. It spoke volumes for the value of a bit of creative tension and a whack on the head. While all the fuss was going on, players and managers from bygone eras have been relating stories of pique attacks that involved far more dangerous flying objects than a football boot.

For various reasons not unconnected with glamour, football has been attracting lots of new support and fresh interest over the past few years. But there are certain aspects of the game's culture still to be absorbed.

Theatre of the absurd

My views last week on Eriksson's lack of visible emotion when his team are under-performing brought an amusing response from Scottish reader A Gordon Smith. He claims that several managers are not "cutting the mustard" entertainment-wise when it comes to reacting to their team's on-field performance. "The paying public deserve more than Arsène Wenger's Gallic reserve, Eriksson's Scandinavian cool and Sir Alex's dour chomping," he writes.

"However... it requires professional assistance. Pressure should be brought on Uefa and Fifa to extend the box in front of the dug-out, perhaps to the full length of the touchline, to ensure that the paying public and the media get full value from the coaches' performances."

In Scotland, he says, Martin O'Neill has developed a "demented leprechaun" routine which would benefit from an expansion of the current exclusion zone.

"One could foresee, with the help of the British gymnastics coach, Eriksson performing a passable tumbling routine down the touchline when England score and Wenger, assisted by intensive facial- muscle training, producing a reasonable facsimile of a smile when Henry back-heels the ball past Barthez.

"Some managers, sadly, are beyond the help of body-language coaches. Berti Vogts' entertaining attempts at the local patois are mere diversionary tactics. No one knows if Berti is able to wave his arms and shout meaningfully from the touch-line and I suspect time is rapidly running out for him to prove he can."