No time like the present for Fergie

Was it even legitimate for Alex Ferguson to write yet another new book?

Yes, some critics have dared ask that, pointing out with a snigger that this is his eighth. A snigger I was momentarily tempted to share, until I realised that this total is still two fewer than I’ve managed, and I’m a nobody. It’s true that another autobiographical tome does smack a little of those modern post-Becks celebrities Alex so loathes, the type who are on the third life story by the time they’re 30, but who have nothing to show for their lives beyond some TV reality shows and a novelty record. But if any football life deserved multiple literary visits, it was Fergie’s.

Moreover, one can hardly argue that post-retirement is an inapt timeframe in which to do another one — although the precise timing is another matter.