So Sir Alex Ferguson is retiring from football management. On one or two occasions in my youth I took a bet from him in the Victoria Road branch in Glasgow of Mecca Bookmakers, later to become William Hill. Nothing big as I remember. No scandal to report.  It was a “line” – 3 or 4 selections in multiples.  He was very polite and called me “son”, the Glasgow term for callow youth with a name unknown to a stranger. After “son” you get called “pal” as you get older. He left Glasgow for Aberdeen so I never got the chance to be his “pal”.

He was plain Alex then and I knew him as the ex-Rangers centre forward known to many of my pals as “The Helicopter” for the way he extended his arms and elbows in flight. I saw him then as a professional who made best use of his talents and never gave up on the pitch. A good player. A decent player. Not a great one. But a give-it-your-all one.

Then came management. At Aberdeen in particular where he built sides that took on and destroyed the Old Firm’s dominance of Scottish football and won the Cup Winners Cup in Gothenburg with a provincial Scottish team against the men in white of Real Madrid. What he achieved at Aberdeen marked him as a great to many fans in Scotland outside the Old Firm. What he did at Man Utd delighted Scots everywhere and was no real surprise to those who watched the man in action during those years at Aberdeen. He was a great in Scotland and then became a great in England.

A man with the common touch. A man who was never content. A crabbit, hard-to-please Scot at times. A builder of teams. A supporter of youth. A winner. He’ll be missed by Wrigley’s, watchmakers everywhere and hair dryer manufacturers as well as Scots of a certain age who watched his progress in awe from East Stirling right through to Aberdeen and Man Utd.

He’s the greatest ever Scottish manager. Above Busby and Shankly and Stein. The big question though is what is it about Scots in English football management? Why do they do so well? What makes them tick? It’s complicated and hard to explain but maybe a few words of poetry can give more insight than a few hundred football pundits.

“This is my country,
The land that begat me.
These windy spaces
Are surely my own.
And those who here toil
In the sweat of their faces
Are flesh of my flesh,
And bone of my bone.

Hard is the day’s task –
Scotland, stern Mother –
Wherewith at all times
Thy sons have been faced:
Labour by day,
And scant rest in the gloaming,
With Want an attendant,
Not lightly outpaced.

Yet do thy children
Honour and love thee.
Harsh is thy schooling,
Yet great is the gain:
True hearts and strong limbs,
The beauty of faces,
Kissed by the wind
And caressed by the rain.”

Sir Alexander Gray

David Moyes will instinctively know what it all means. He’ll do well at Man Utd. The fear of failure will see to that.