It was almost an hour after the end of the game on Tuesday night when the door in the corner of the Sunderland press room opened and Sir Alex Ferguson walked in, preoccupied with buttoning his coat and following the official leading him out of the stadium. When the old
Ferguson is haunting Moyes - so why does he do it?
Subscribe to listen
Manchester United coach David Moyes. Photo / AP
Of course, being United manager in 2014 encompasses many more challenges, above and beyond being constantly compared with one's virtually ever-present, ultra-successful predecessor, that Moyes must overcome. But Ferguson attending games? For all the hurdles United currently face, it is one the club can do something about.
Why does it make a difference? To divine that, Ferguson only needs to look back at what made him successful. He always grasped the power of the way he was perceived. It was why he insisted on trying to win his public battles with players, rival managers, the game's authorities, the newspapers and, latterly in his career, the 24-hour rolling news cycle. He did not win them all, but he won enough to build and preserve the reputation that served him so well. The reputation was a crucial tool in marshalling his players, signing big names and then in engaging with the wider game that he sought to dominate. However much he may support Moyes in private, Ferguson's presence at games - especially those as relatively innocuous as a Capital One Cup semi-final first leg on a Tuesday night in January - is damaging the way in which the new United manager is perceived.
In short, the results have been bad enough for Moyes without him looking like the apprentice, trapped in an eternal, hellish assessment by the 72-year-old behind him. A 72-year-old who said last May that he had finally reached the point where he no longer needed football yet, seven months on, just does not seem able to walk away.
Yes, when Ferguson took over a United team in a bad way back in November 1986, Sir Matt Busby was still attending games. But Busby had quit the manager's seat for the second time 15 years earlier. Ferguson was not being compared with Busby in those days. He was being compared with Ron Atkinson, whose record, not to mention whose aura, were nothing like that of Busby.
And while Ferguson has not made the well-chronicled errors that Busby did when he handed over to poor old Wilf McGuinness in 1969 - keeping an office at Old Trafford, continuing to meet with players - that alone does not mean Ferguson does not have the power to damage Moyes. History does not have to repeat itself in every detail for United to botch another managerial handover.
If Moyes' team were top of the league and the summer had brought to the club the likes of Cesc Fabregas, Robert Lewandowski and Leighton Baines it would matter little. But the situation is what it is and now Ferguson looms over Moyes, creating the kind of distraction that Ferguson himself would have swept away without thinking twice, were he still in charge of the club.
What happened to the Ferguson who once said that in retirement he was going to learn Italian, travel more and take piano lessons? Instead he finds himself compulsively retracing his old steps, following United obsessively. And, in doing so, casting a long shadow over a successor who just cannot catch a break.