As of today, Sir Alex Ferguson has been the manager of Manchester United longer than the late, great Sir Matt Busby. Fergie has had the top job in English club football since November 1986.
Except it probably wasn't the top job when he took it.
To put things into perspective, United hadn't won the First Division title for 19 years at the time. Our only truly bitter rivals Liverpool had 16 Championship successes to their name (next to our 7) and had totally dominated the previous 11 seasons, winning the trophy 8 times. Only the brilliance of Brian Clough's Nottingham Forest (who I had the privilege of seeing rip United to shreds 4-0 at Old Trafford on their way to their first and certainly last League title in 1977-78), Aston Villa's great team of 1980-81 (who won probably their last ever top division title after a then 71-year wait) and Everton in 1984-85 (not their last ever title, but almost certainly their second-to-last ever title).
The first season that I can remember watching United, 1974-75, we were in Division Two and playing the likes of York City, Orient (minus the Leyton, as they were then known), Oldham Athletic and Oxford United after the final and complete break up of the Busby Babes. Unless you count Sammy McIlroy, which I always did. I was heartbroken when Ron Atkinson publicly signed Bryan Robson on the Old Trafford pitch before the game against Wolves on 3 October 1981. Everyone knew that it would be Sammy, United through and through and still only 27, who would have to leave to make room in the first team. He scored his only United hattrick that same afternoon against Wolves and was sold on to Stoke City 4 months later.
In the years before Ferguson that I was a United fan, we won Division Two and had a new, young and exciting to watch (and listen to on the radio) team under the flawed management of Tommy Docherty. In our first season back in the top flight we managed a creditable third place in the League just 4 points behind Liverpool and 3 behind a great QPR side (Stan Bowles, Gerry Francis) managed by Dave Sexton. Some great old footage of match and players' hair highlights:
Although United inexplicably lost to Southampton in the FA Cup Final that same season, we beat Liverpool in the Final of 1977 to prevent them winning the real Treble, a truly remarkable achievement by a team that will live forever in my memory and which was immortalised (for a few years at least) on my Subbuteo table. The disgraced and disgraceful Doc was sacked, which at the time was impossible for me aged ten to understand. Replaced by his antithesis, the dour and disappointingly defensively-minded Sexton, the highlight of the next four years was our return to Wembley in 1979. We lost in the most devastating fashion to a last minute Alan Sunderland goal for Arsenal after having just clawed two goals back to level ourselves (including a brilliant equaliser from McIlroy).
Ron Atkinson brought back the flair and entertainment of Docherty's years and won two more FA Cup Finals, the best moment being Norman Whiteside's winner to prevent Everton from winning their own trophy Treble. Big Ron's United were always far too reliant on Captain Marvel Robson and his injury after we won the first ten games in the League the following season signalled the beginning of the end of his five years in charge.
Enter Ferguson.
Although I didn't fully comprehend it at the time, looking back now, it's easy to see how amazing his achievements were with Aberdeen, not only in breaking the Old Firm monotony, but even winning in Europe, too. A real foretaste of what was to come.
But it took several more seasons of hurt and under-achievement. I'm thankful that, apart from Xmas and New Year, I spent the entire 1989-90 season in the US. I did make it back to see us win another FA Cup and it was this cup run and victory that is supposed to have saved Fergie's job. If I'm honest, I probably wanted him to go some time before then, so rubbish we were.
Whatever the reasons, thank God he stayed! The rest is relatively recent history and well documented.
All I want to say is thanks to the Boss for filling the last twenty years with new found and real hope, unbounded and tearful joy, some of the most thrilling and unbelievable moments and matches. And trophy after trophy after trophy.
He knocked Liverpool off their perch as he promised he would. He took the spirit of Busby and re-modelled it for the modern game. He imbued himself in the traditions and the culture of the club and made damned sure every single player at every level did the same or they were out. Christ, he even shut my Dad up harking on about how we'd never be as good as Best, Law and Charlton. He made us United again.
Just thinking about Barcelona in 1999, where my then new housemate and landlord was experiencing first hand the atmosphere for himself (I'd moved to London for a new job just ten days earlier) and phoning me on his mobile to let me hear the singing, is choking me up.
1-0 down in injury time, having been totally outplayed without our suspended talismen Keane and Scholes, I was literally on my knees praying to a God I didn't believe in. It wasn't be the first - and I hope it won't be the last - time I was running around, jumping up and down, screaming 'Yes! Yes! Yes!!!!'
It would have been fitting if we could have beaten Chelsea today, but I hope the postponement has meant a day at home for Sir Alex with his family to relax before Xmas and the always most important next match against Sunderland.
Thanks, Boss!