Why did he bring on Macheda?
Pouring over everything written about Ferguson in the past 48 hours one thing is clear: the man’s astonishing. Yet amongst his greatness and his triumphs there is one moment I keep coming back to, one question I can’t stop asking:
What made him bring on Macheda?
There are bigger moments in Ferguson and United’s history. In a sea of success this is, after all, a pretty small wave. It’s not signing Cantona, it’s not Keane’s header in Turin and it’s not a wonderful run by Giggs. It’s a small moment. But therein lies the key to Sir Alex Ferguson’s success. Ferguson, you see, has always known that life is only ever about the small things. Lots and lots and lots of small things. Details. Remembering names, making time for people, attending weddings and funerals – these are the small things that, when added up, mean the big things. This is life - and I learnt it from Sir Alex Ferguson.
So why did he bring on Macheda? 2-1 down, a back four decimated by injuries, a title challenge falling apart at the seams, why did he think giving a 17 year old Italian his debut would help?
For that matter why switch Giggs to left back against West Ham 2011? Why play Welbeck over Rooney against Madrid and why bring on Giggs in the 100th minute of the last ever semi final replay? Why did he sign Ronaldo? Why Solskjaer over any other striker in Europe? Why, why, why?
The answer is rooted in the small, seemingly insignificant moments that happen behind the scenes. Macheda was brimming with confidence and had all the arrogance of a 17 year old who’d just scored a hat-trick in the reserves. Why did he score that hat-trick? Because a certain manager told him that if he scored against Newcastle he could be on the bench against Villa – for the first team. Ferguson knew how to press this kid’s buttons. He inspired him. He lay the foundation for Kiko’s miraculous moment with that one comment. It’s a stretch to say it was all planned. But it was definitely all planned for. You can’t win the lottery if you don’t buy a ticket. And Ferguson spent 26.5 years buying tickets to every lottery going.
Ferguson’s success is rooted in traditional values of loyalty, commitment and hard work. But this combined with his Govan roots and early career at St Mirren and Aberdeen, often see him painted as a growling industrialist. A British icon with a shipyard background who flogged his players to death and scared them into succeeding. This is wrong. This is myth. The planning, the preparation, the work ethic – these were the foundations for something bigger, something out of this world. Because the unspoken truth about Ferguson is this: he’s a dreamer. A romantic. He believes in the impossible.
He used to say stupid things about Manchester United Football Club being the biggest and best in the world – in 1986. People laughed – and with good reason. (For comparison imagine the new manager of Everton saying that today.) But Ferguson didn’t laugh. He smiled. He worked, he dreamed and he believed.
Sir Bobby Charlton tells of the time he and Ferguson visited Camp Nou in the early 90s and how they stood on the pitch ogling at the stadium. “This is what we need”, Fergie said. And he didn’t just stare jealously while thinking about what to have for tea. He flew home and drove the chairman mad to increase the capacity of Old Trafford. 45,000 was not enough. 55,000 not enough. 70,000 no, 85,000 no. Nothing would satisfy him. His vision was for the biggest, best stadium for the best football club in the entire world. That was his dream.
And it manifested itself in a team that could make grown men cry. The courage they showed (I remember my dad shedding tears home to Spurs ’99. He couldn’t get over the sheer guts Keane, Beckham et al had shown to get over the line) combined with the style of play brought us more and more success. This is not a coincidence. Style and substance: to a fantasist like Ferguson you can’t have one without the other. He believes in players enjoying themselves, doing wonderful things and “expressing themselves.” He believes in that because he believes that’s what winners do. And he loves it.
Winning in style is so often misunderstood. It’s not just about playing beautiful football. It’s about performing under pressure, or winning when the odds are stacked against you. It’s about going to enemy territory, taking everything they throw at you and coming out on top. Character. That’s what winning in style is about. And that is the fabric of our club. The Busby Babes were a group of young, adventurous men playing with such abandon and expression they changed British football forever. And they were winners. Then out of the ashes of Munich came the swinging 60s lit up by Best, Law and Charlton. When we won the European Cup in ’68 Busby serenaded the after-party with Louis Armstrong’s ‘Wonderful World’.
I see trees of green / red roses too
I see them bloom / for me and for you
And I think to myself...what a wonderful world.
I see them bloom / for me and for you
And I think to myself...what a wonderful world.
It’s about the small things. And Ferguson, like Busby before him, understood that each small step could one day lead to a magnificent journey. And it did.
Ferguson was an attacking manager. His first great team introduced the world to Giggs, Cantona and Hughes. That team saw this country out of the dark ages and, thanks to a unique brand of counter attacking football, we were champions for the first time in 26 years. This wasn’t a coincidence. There’d been planning from 86-92. From 92 came the adventure.
This was the start of it all. A cycle bookended perfectly by two players: Cantona and Van Persie. Players with exceptional touch, vision and grace, they were/ are, above all winners, scorers of big goals, seemingly born to grace the Old Trafford stage. These two are more than just footballers – they are talismen. Of course, in between Keane, Ronaldo, Scholes, Giggs, Becks (I’ll stop there as the list is ridiculously long) played just as big a role, but these two are the players Ferguson dreamt of when he closed his eyes at night. They were fantasy players with substance. They were United players. They were Ferguson players.
They could make something out of nothing. And that’s what Ferguson was about. Magic. The late goals were not a coincidence. Only a dreamer could have believed we’d win at home to Wednesday, in Turin, in Barcelona and all over for all those years. He believed we could win games we should never have won and that belief permeated through the club. Beckham turned to Gary Neville, 2-0 down in Turin and said, “these have gone, we’ll win this.” Excuse me? Where did that come from? Where do you think?
Ferguson believed we’d win more European Cups. Two is not a disappointment in the modern era but he was left distraught many times. That’s why Madrid (this season) is important. It was unfair. It was injustice. That was Ferguson at his absolute best. Choking Alonso, freeing Nani, shackling Ronaldo and birthing Welbeck - the planning had been immaculate, the magic was imminent. But it wasn’t to be. He deserved better. To say we couldn’t have won the European Cup this season is wrong - and I’ll tell you why. When United reach the quarters of any tournament I think we’re going to win it. I’m not always right (clearly) but I know I’m not alone.
That night in March was the grand statement of a new United side. It was the cutting of the ribbon ahead of a big opening. It was a bright, bold, “Hello Europe, we’re back.” And it was taken from us. So he was distraught. Not only was this his last goodbye in Europe, his dream had been shattered. He was heart-broken. Unfortunately, for romantics, it happens. To quote Tennyson:
I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
Sir Alex Ferguson has played a huge part in all our lives. Why and how has been well articulated elsewhere (Daniel Harris especially). He was our manager of our club. I have hung on his every word for most of my life and to the day I die I will never tire of hearing about the great man. I’m so happy he’s gone out on a high – a privilege granted to only a special few. Not only does he deserve it but, selfishly, it makes it all a little easier. It was time.
He is one of the most influential people in my life and I’ve never even met him. So for now I’m going to forget about the future and spend the next few weeks looking back over the last 26.5 years. And while I’ll miss him I appreciate how lucky I was to be there for so much of it. The Oldham semis 1990, the Palace final, Blackburn 93, Wembley 94, 96, Spurs home 99, Barca 99, white hart lane 2001, Anfield 07, villa park 96, 99 & 2004, Stamford bridge 2011, Chelsea home 2011, QPR 2013 and so many, many, many more. They are more than memories. They are my life. And while I’m grateful beyond words for how Ferguson has enriched my life on so many occasions, I also need to say how overwhelmed with sadness I am. Never again will I see a Ferguson side, 2-1 down, having just pulled a goal back with 20 minutes to play, chasing a game and scaring the life out of the opposition. It’s coming, they know it’s coming, but they can’t do anything stop it. Why? Quite simply, they’re trapped in Fergie’s dream.
