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Ronaldo can do without the Sopranos act, Sir Alex

If anybody doubted that Cristiano Ronaldo is currently the most coveted footballer on the planet, then Sir Alex Ferguson erased those doubts the other evening with an oafish eruption of foul-mouthed abuse.
That abuse was directed at Geoff Shreeves, who conducts pitchside interviews for Sky TV.

Now Shreeves is an amiable chap who tends to ask inoffensive questions. Why, before United’s FA Cup replay with Middlesbrough, he wondered if Ferguson was pleased that so many United goals were being shared among so many United players.

Ferguson indicated that it was an excellent point. As you may gather, nobody ever mistook Geoff Shreeves for Jeremy Paxman.

But when the match was over and Ronaldo agreed to be interviewed, Shreeves was duty-bound to ask him about the mildly controversial penalty he had won. Ronaldo responded with a series of thoughtful reflections.

And Ferguson exploded.

How dare a journalist expose one of his players to a stream of pertinent and unscripted questions! And not just ‘one of his players’, but the young man who represents United’s greatest hope of delivering the season of their dreams.

In his ludicrous indignation, Sir Alex did what he does on such occasions. He swore, loudly and crudely. I offer the merest flavour of his tantrum.


Ferguson: ‘F*****g bastard.’
Shreeves: ‘Don’t talk to me like that.’
Ferguson: ‘F*** off to you.’
Shreeves: ‘Don’t talk to me like that. Don’t even think about it.’
Ferguson: ‘Don’t you think about it,you ****. F***off. Right?’
Shreeves: ‘Listen, are you going to do the interview in a professional manner or not? Do you want to do it or not?’
Ferguson: ‘You f*****g be professional. You be professional. You’re the one.’

Shreeves was not intimidated. Indeed, he retained his dignity while conveying his contempt. And it was high time that somebody made a public stand. For, while he may think otherwise, Ferguson is not exempt from the laws of civilised courtesy which govern the rest of us.

Yet increasingly, he appears to believe his own myth; the notion that he will always get his way by inflating his blood pressure and bawling nonsense. It is a sad piece of self-delusion.

You see, the so-called ‘hairdryer’ treatment may well work on fearful teenagers and kneebending sycophants, but to the world at large he resembles an irascible pensioner who has watched too many episodes of The Sopranos.

At this point, I should confess that I admire Ferguson more than any manager of his generation. I relish his respect for the game and his reverence for its values.

I love the way he takes chances, risks failure and inspires the loyalty of good men. I revere the instinct which prizes glory above security. And given all those things, along with the fact that he is privately the most entertaining of companions, I genuinely want to see his team sweep up all the prizes this season has to offer.

But if they are to do that, then they need Ronaldo to impose his gloriously disruptive talents upon the best defenders in England and Europe.They need to expel from his mind any idle thoughts of how things might be in the Bernabeu or the Nou Camp, whose doors and bank accounts are wide open to him.

Above all, they need to treat him like a rounded and reasonable individual, with a good deal to learn but much more to achieve.

To his enduring credit, Sir Alex Ferguson was the first important manager to detect the potential of Cristiano Ronaldo. He backed his judgment, and he has quite properly enjoyed its vindication.

But when he makes abusive and ham-fisted attempts to protect him from even the most benevolent attention,then he renders himself ridiculous.

For the lad can think, the boy can play. And history will take care of the rest.