The Lead

Last night I was on the Ossington bus home when I got an email.

“Fergie is off.”

As ridiculous as it seemed, a slow wave of reports came trickling in from all around. Various officials within the club had been put on standby for interviews, the players had been alerted, word was spreading through fan groups. It all seemed a bit fantastical until Mark Ogden at the Telegraph let loose.

As someone pointed out to me, the time from first rumour emerging to published story: 37 minutes.

Everyone always said when it happened, it would be quick. And now already the next morning:

There is currently an avalanche of news and reaction, photo retrospectives, expansive op-eds, backlash against all the attention, sour grapes, reports of at least one person calling into a phone in show to report they’d been sent home they were so distraught.

I honestly haven’t had time to put two thoughts together on the end of the Sir Alex years. Even if I had those two thoughts I’m not sure they’d be worth adding to the cacophony at the moment. Sir Alex Ferguson is gone. He was football’s Thomas Tallis. All I’ve got is a fairly slim bag of forced metaphors for you. Something about the Internet age, club branding, and old choir directors he reminded me of. More as the day goes on obviously.