Why Manchester United were right to bid farewell to Alex Ferguson

When Ole Gunnar Solskjaer was in charge of Manchester United, he would not leave his car in the spot reserved for “the manager” at the club’s Carrington training ground.

It was where Alex Ferguson had parked for many years. In Solskjaer’s eyes, there was only one manager and that was Ferguson; the space still belonged to him.

Although he had retired five years previously, Ferguson held huge sway over his former club. That was even without him being paid £2m a year by the club’s owners, the Glazer family, for an ambassadorial role. In return for the money, Ferguson would turn up at matches, glad-hand guests and pose for photographs.

Incredibly, he also had the right to visit the team dressing room; Solskjaer was right to feel his influence still.

When the top person leaves other clubs and businesses, they only return for the occasional reunion lunch or dinner. Successors do not want them hanging around, casting a shadow.

That is exactly what occurred at United’s arch-rival, Liverpool, when their legendary boss Bill Shankly quit. He was cast out, and cut a mournful figure, attending training sessions and standing, alone, on the side of the pitch.

It was not the United (or rather, the Glazer) way; they were happy for Ferguson to stay, even if it made life difficult for his successors. For them, that was a price worth paying; they most definitely wished to keep Ferguson on side. In effect, that is exactly what they were doing – by retaining him on the payroll for such a significant amount, they were buying his silence. As an employee, he could not speak out against the Glazers and how they were running the club.

It was also heavily symbolic to have Ferguson on show in the main Old Trafford stand. He was clearly in agreement with their plans because, look, there he was, waving and smiling to the crowd. As well as buying his silence, they were effectively also buying his support. For the embattled Glazers, locked in a ferocious battle with many of the club’s followers, that was £2m a year well spent.

Protesting fans, meanwhile, could never understand why it was that Fergie did not say anything critical on the record about the Glazers. Worse than that, what he did say in public was unambiguously approving.

Without the backing of the legendary chief – who, in 1999, guided United to the historic treble of the Premiership, Champions League and FA Cup; who discovered the Class of ‘92 and put his faith in a young Ryan Giggs, David Beckham, Paul Scholes, Nicky Butt and the Neville brothers, Gary and Phil; who managed brilliantly the mercurial genius of Eric Cantona; and who persuaded Wayne Rooney to desert his boyhood team and join United –  without him, anyone trying to unseat the Glazers would not get anywhere.

And so it proved. There were repeated attempts down the years to buy United; all of them failed. Perhaps those who came the closest were the Red Knights, the group of super-wealthy supporters assembled by Jim O’Neill, the Goldman Sachs chief economist. O’Neill had gathered together sufficient financial firepower to not only take over United but have enough left over for big-ticket transfers.

To the surprise of O’Neill and his band, the Glazers did not budge. This, despite them having to endure relentless personal abuse from United supporters (the Glazers’ offence was to have borrowed the funds from fellow American financiers in order to purchase the club and to put that debt onto United’s books, and then not to visit Old Trafford to follow the games). A tipping point might have been if Ferguson had gone on the attack and fuelled the anti-Glazer campaigners, exhorting them to even greater heights, or depths.

It didn’t happen. Instead, he said nothing to back the illustrious Red Knights, and the potential purchasers were sent packing.

Now, Jim Ratcliffe, United’s new part owner with the Glazers, has bitten the bullet and ended Ferguson’s contract.

Apparently, the 82-year-old took the news with good grace. He will still be welcome at the matches, but will no longer be paid and the changing room will be off limits.

United’s fans have reacted with predictable anger, accusing Ratcliffe of betraying their hero and treating him abominably. Instead of sacking him, it should have been current manager Erik ten Hag shown the door, such has been the club’s disappointing run of results.

Ratcliffe, though, is pursuing a tough cost-cutting drive. Since coming on board, he’s made savings across the club, some seemingly trivial but nevertheless adding up. When you’re making backroom staff redundant, ignoring a former chief being paid a lot for doing very little would have appeared contradictory and hypocritical.

What Ratcliffe is also doing is what any supporter would do when buying a new house; he’s making it his. He’s having a clear-out. Being surrounded by reminders of a glittering past does not guarantee a glorious present.

That’s not how many supporters see it. But instead of raging against Ratcliffe, they might prefer to dwell on why it was that Ferguson never joined their long campaign against the Glazers and how things might have turned out differently if he had.

Chris Blackhurst is the author of The World’s Biggest Cash Machine: Manchester United, the Glazers, and the Struggle for Football’s Soul (Macmillan)