Godfather Of Champions

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

Let's turn back time to three months ago.

In the away team's dressing room at Fulham's home stadium, the King of the Red Devils, Manchester United, was throwing a tantrum at his soldiers.

"You lost to Fulham! What? Fulham! You dare lose to a team not even worth mentioning? You didn't even score a goal! Look at your performance in the game! I dare to bet that prostitutes can even perform better than you! No fighting spirit, no initiative, I see no ambition from you guys! If you don't want to play, tell me in advance, I will not sign you up! "

Ferguson was already sixty-nine years old. Just like Twain, he had a pacemaker in the left side of his chest. Although, from how he had been behaving in the past few years, it was difficult to believe that an energetic old man like him had one. At this moment he was red, but this is not necessarily a sign of health. On the contrary, the people who really cared about him now must be worried about the old man's heart. It had been some time since Manchester United's players last saw Ferguson so angry.

They lost their away match to Fulham, completely and utterly, as if they raised hands early to surrender. From the result till the process, the TV commentators were wondering why Manchester United had played so badly in this game.

After a long time of swearing, Ferguson suddenly shut his mouth. His unusual move caught the attention of the players, with some daredevils quietly raising their heads and seeing Ferguson gasping for breath in his chair. His face was still red, but there was a fine layer of sweat on his forehead. He was sitting on the chair in that manner, his shoulders shaking as he breathed. It looked as if he was exhausted.

"Go home, run back to your car." Ferguson waved.

The players were relieved to get up and walk out of the dressing room.

When everyone was gone, and Ferguson was left alone in the locker room, he was still sitting in his chair motionlessly. The gasps faded, the red on his face faded, but the sweat on his forehead was still there, though Ferguson did not wipe it. He was sixty-nine; even scolding people seemed to be draining his strength, requiring him to rest for so long after. What would that group of rabbits think of his aging? Would they think that they could do as they wished now that Ferguson was unable to control them?

He thought of the scene of Brian Howard Clough leaving the City Stadium. Ferguson did not want to leave his coaching position like that. He was a great coach and deserved a decent ending.

After the break, Ferguson felt the strength return to him, so he got up and walked out of the dressing room.

※※※

Two days after the game, David Gill, the chief executive of Manchester United who was involved in the English FA's work in London, got a call from Manchester.

It was the manager, Alex Ferguson, but this time he did not reach out to the club for money, nor did he say which young talent he saw, and wanted Gill to arrange it. He did not ask for anything and gave no explanation for the unexpected loss to Fulham two days ago, but he did not call specifically to simply just talk.

He said only one thing, "David, I'm tired. Find a successor. "

David Gill was shocked, and in his mind the FA meeting was no match for this news. He immediately pushed the meeting and flew back to Manchester on the earliest flight. He was going to talk to this guy in person to see if he was being serious.

Ferguson had repeatedly expressed his desire to retire. Sometimes, he did it just to put pressure on the club, and the other times he had been sincere, but the club successfully discouraged him. Ferguson's 24 years at Manchester United had long been integrated with the world-famous club, and no one in Manchester United had seriously considered even a one-day absence of Ferguson, They did not think that was going to happen. Everyone wanted the Old Scotsman to die at Manchester United.

If Ferguson wanted to put pressure on the club, then Gill wanted to know what he wanted. If Ferguson was serious about retiring, he would still keep the old manager anyway. We had already managed to keep him three times, so this time it would still be okay!

As soon as he got off the plane, Gill kept going, straight to Carrington. The team would have finished training, but Ferguson would not leave the training base so early. If there was no traffic jam on the road, Gill should still be able to catch up. In order not to go on an empty trip, Gill called Ferguson on the way, hoping that he would wait for him in his office. Ferguson had no objection. It was clear he wanted to have a good talk with Gill.

※※※

"What do you want, Sir?" As soon as they met, Gill could not even take off his coat, he said to Ferguson, who had been waiting for a long time, in a half-joking tone.

"This is not a scare tactic, David." Ferguson sat on the sofa, crossing his legs.

"Are you really serious?" Gill turned and stared at Ferguson.

Ferguson smiled. "I have decided to retire after this season. "

"I've heard these many times, but I'd like you to think it over…"

"I've also heard these many times. I thought it over for two days before I decided to call you."

"It's only been two days…The team needs you, Alex." Gill pulled a chair and sat in front of Ferguson, looking at him.

"I'm seventy next year, David. Don't you think it's cruel to ask a 70-year-old man to continue working such a stressful job? "

"Well…" Gill had to admit that there was no way he could outtalk the manager who was once "invincible in the Premier League". He hesitated and decided to use another way to convince him.

"Don't you want another European Cup? You once said to me your biggest regret was winning winning only one Champions League. "

Ferguson laughed, "Of course I'd want to win another. I still haven't given up on that, even now. This season is still not over, I think this season is very promising. "

Either way, Gill did not think Manchester United could win the Champions League again this season. The team's performance this season had been unsteady. That was one of the reasons he did not want Ferguson to leave, but now it seemed that Ferguson had decided that he could not be persuaded with just a few words.

"Start looking for a successor, David. You'd better decide on the candidate before I retire. The last thing I want to see before leaving is a soulless Manchester United. "

"Do you have someone in mind? "

"After all these years, there would always be those few…"

Gill also clearly knew who Ferguson was referring to. He started listing names, "Mike Phelan? "

It was the result of a dive from within after Queiroz left Carrington, a close confidant of Ferguson, the current Assistant Coach of Manchester United. Mike Phelan's advantage was that he came from the Manchester United system and had a good understanding of the essence of Ferguson's use and tactics.

But Ferguson shook his head. "No, he's better suited to be an assistant coach." He paused, perhaps realising he already had too many assistants, before adding, "At the very least, he's not the right person for the job at this moment."

"Then, Moyes?"

This time Ferguson thought for a moment before shaking his head, "I'm not sure he can do as well in this position as he did at Everton. You know, coaching a big team and a regular team are two different jobs. "

"Hm, Roy?"

Ferguson continued to shake his head, "Wait till he's fifty before considering."

That meant he was too young. His resignation from Sunderland was, of course, due to poor results and too much pressure to make Keane feel that things were out of his control. All in all, he was not really ready to become a professional manager, let alone Manchester United's manager. He had previously said he wanted to replace Ferguson as Manchester United's manager, but he had not said that again in recent years and it seemed like he had learned the gap between reality and ideals.

"Jose Mourinho?"

Ferguson glanced at Gill. "Do you think he'll come?" "

Gill shrugged. "How do you know if you don't try? What do you think? "

"If you can bring him, I certainly don't have a problem. But United's fans may have to take a while to get used to their new manager. "

"Well, what about an easy one… Queiroz? "

"He and the Portuguese Football Association have just renewed less than a year ago."

"Hey, Alex, all I need is your evaluation of the candidate. "

"I think he knows Manchester United best, but…"

"But?"

"Manchester United's record under his team might be volatile. Well, to put it simply. I think Queiroz is a good fit for Manchester United technically, but mentally I can't look at him with high hopes. "

"Ha, you see, Alex. There's no suitable successor, so stop saying you want to retire." It turned out that this was all a set-up. But was Ferguson one to give in so easily?

"You haven't heard my recommendation yet, David. Didn't you just ask me to recommend?"

"Try one."

"Tony Twain."

Gill's eyes were wide. "It's impossible!" He gave almost no thought and rejected it.

"Is it impossible for us, or for him?" Ferguson asked.

"Can you imagine him leaving Nottingham Forest?"

Ferguson stared at Gill. "I don't think I can imagine you working with him."

Gill admitted to that, "I wouldn't be happy working with him."

"Putting aside your personal relationship with him, I think he is the best fit for Manchester United. He's a coach with a championship tradition and he can bring success to the team and easily gain the trust and support of the players. Of course, United fans will love this arrogant man once they get used to him."

Gill's distaste for Twain was completely personal. There was no real reason he hated Twain. He did not hate Twain because of his character or words — he just did. Though Ferguson was also a head coach with huge character, he did things within reason. Twain was purely a mad dog; in order to achieve his goal, he would do whatever it took. Keegan was a good old man but he just got bitten down by Twain.

Though he could talk at length withFerguson and Arsene Wenger, the fact of the matter was most people hated him. In this relatively conservative circle of English football, he was too arrogant, too shameless, too mean, too self-righteous, too selfish…

"He's not my type anyway. I always felt that he did not belong to England, nor did he belong to Manchester United." Gill said vehemently.

Ferguson acquiesced. He also knew that it is very difficult to get Twain to Manchester United. The issue was not with the club but with Twain. From numerous side knocks, Ferguson could see that Twain did not have much interest in coaching a team like Manchester United.

To be able to coach such a big team was a dream of countless coaches. It was like a train that only passed you once — if you missed it, you missed it. But Tony was always rejecting his kindness; was he not willing to leave Nottingham Forest?

Ferguson had always been suspicious of his loyalty to Nottingham Forest. He always looked down on Nottingham Forest for being a small club no matter how many champions he won. He was a very talented head coach, but it was a waste how he was willing to tie themselves to such a small stage where he could not expand his talents.

According to the source, Benitez led Liverpool for several years in a row, splurging on people but only play in the League Cup, Liverpool's top committee once wanted to ask Twain to coach. But in the end it was not clear why they cancelled in the end. Maybe they were thinking the same way as David Gill?

He did not belong to Manchester United, he did not belong to Liverpool, he did not belong to England, he did not belong to any team. If, one day, he suddenly announced that he was leaving Nottingham Forest and then went home to enjoy the world with his wife, Ferguson felt that he would not be too surprised. Such a tough and unique person would belong only to himself.

David Gill looked at the pensive Ferguson, preparing to leave. "Well, we will try for the person you recommend. My personal feelings are still only my personal feelings, if you choose him to really help Manchester United…" He shrugged. In fact, he decided that Twain would never accept Manchester United's invitation.

"The Ferguson I know is someone who tirelessly chases victory." At the time of the farewell, Gill was still standing at the door with some reluctance.

"That must have been me forty years ago. Have we known each other for so long?" Ferguson laughed and turned his last effort into dust.

Gill had no other options in the face of this old man. He sighed and left.

※※※

Around three months later.

Ferguson was locked in psychological warfare with Twain, and he played the "My Successor" card. Some thought he was just trying to disrupt Nottingham Forest's morale, but the top committee in Manchester United was serious.

Twain received David Gill's call before going to Glasgow.

"Hello, Mr. Twain. I'm David Gill, Chief Executive Officer of Manchester United. Can have a minute of your time?"

Twain was confused. What did Manchester United's CEO want from him? He instinctively refused, "I was just about to go out to the airport."

"Only a few minutes, I promise, no more than five minutes." Gill held in his hate against Twain, prioritising business. In fact, he did not even use a minute.

"There's an attractive job contract here, Mr. Twain. We hope to hire you to coach Manchester United next season. We don't ask for your reply right away, we just want you to think it over. This is my phone number. Once you've made your decision, you can contact me at any time. Goodbye, Mr. Twain. "

Twain was stunned at the door with a phone that was still ringing. Manchester United suddenly called him to invite him to go Manchester United to coach?

Hey, Sir, is it not psychological warfare? Why does it sound so serious?

What was that all about?