They asked me to comment. I have nothing to say. Nothing to add. The F word is not something I buy into. And Sir(!) Alex Ferguson always seems like a celtic gum chewing bad tempered nasty bastard when I see him. just don't get it.
What I do get is the sadness. The feeling of entrapment from August to Maytime. The mood swings. The solo excursions with the kids at the weekend, the slipping out for a football pink and a few beers. The homecoming for steak and salad eagerly prepared by the waiting wife. Then Match of the Day.
And later, the perfunctory shag. Was the highlight apparently. The apology for coming too soon. No memorable extra five minutes here.
Well done Sir Alex. A nation applauds. Your Missus must be very proud.... if dreading having to gaze upon the miserable big red Scottish face morning, noon and night.