Is this Rooney’s walk of shame or stride of pride?

WHEN I first interviewed Alex Ferguson in the mid-Nineties, having always prided myself in being able to remain unimpressed in the face of celebrity, I emerged from the session somewhat shamefaced.

For I had experienced what I would later describe in writing – with a deliberate nod to Third Reich historiography – as ‘Fergiepower’: a charisma and intimidating force of persuasion that renders all opposition virtually helpless.

In one-on-one eyeballing, few can best him; and even though I have always been more sympathetic to Fergiephobes than ‘philes, I have always been careful to laud his single greatest quality – that of personal man-management.

It hasn’t always worked, mind: the self-possessed iconoclast Roy Keane seemed to be immune to his powers, perhaps as the result of having survived and prospered under Brian Clough.

But for more than 20 years, his ledger is dominated by credits on this account. Cantona 1995, Ronaldo 2008, Scholes 2009 and now Rooney 2010 – all forceful personalities, seemingly intent on a course of action against Fergie’s preferences, yet all talked out of it in just one conversation by an inspired Alex.

Probably the closest parallel with this week’s extraordinary events was Fergie’s madcap trip to Paris in the summer of 1995, when he waylaid a disillusioned Cantona en route to Inter Milan, took a ride on the back of his motorbike to a restaurant, and convinced him to devote the rest of his career to Old Trafford. In one meal!

Arguably, however, over the past hundred hours, he has topped even that coup de theatre. From a dazzling piece of PR at Tuesday’s press conference through the hours of frenzied talks with Gill, Glazer, Paul Stretford and Rooney, Fergie has somehow emerged triumphant, defying almost every hack, bookmaker and fan in the process.

Don’t get me wrong: this may yet all end unhappily, as we shall see below. Moreover Fergie (and the dilatory David Gill) had clearly failed on the management front up to this point, if he had allowed a player to become so disillusioned over so many months and – as he claimed on Tuesday – had “no idea” as to why the player should have felt the way he did. (As a BBC Radio Four presenter plaintively asked: “if he says he doesn’t know why Rooney feels like this, why doesn’t he just ask him?”).

But all that will be forgotten amidst the euphoria with which most will greet this U-turn of U-turns.

I look forward to seeing the dancing on pinheads that will be required of all those knee-jerk fans who rushed out to paint their ‘Whore’ banners in time for Wednesday’s European game: is he still to be regarded as a gentleman of the night, then, for accepting a hefty payrise from United?! The volte-face of the suddenly-silenced anti-Rooney mob will be mirrored by the disappointment of the brave minority who had backed Rooney, and who had enthusiastically saluted his decision to invoke the Glazer Curse as a reason for his gloom. What had promised to be a giant political stick with which to beat the hated Gimp regime seems to have instantly turned into spent matchsticks.

However, the saga may not be over. A five year deal, these days, is only worth more than a bucket of warm spit in one sense – it increases the transfer value of a player sold mid-contract.

Many are already concluding that yesterday’s armistice is just that: a possible prelude to a permanent peace treaty, yes, but equally possibly a mere ceasefire before a new war. For, in the cynic’s scenario, Rooney has maybe merely ‘done a Ronaldo’, and could still leave in January or June, and would then do so with the club and Fergie’s reluctant acquiescence. They would also argue that he has possibly so damaged his relationship with the management, fans and certain team-mates – that we are just postponing the inevitable.

NORMALLY, I’d line right up with the pessimists and cynics on all that, save for one salient factor: all my informants agreed this week that the Glazers, far from welcoming the chance to cash in on Wayne’s sale, were desperate to keep him for various political and financial reasons. They are certainly said to have coughed up various concessions to David Gill during their allegedly panic-stricken transatlantic phone call on Wednesday night.

Throughout Thursday, at the very moment a mob of would-be Manchester Education Committee hoodies were preparing their nighttime ‘encouragement’ visit to Casa Roo in Prestbury, Red Issue’s website was beginning to receive whispers that a U-turn was on the way as a result of these top-level discussions. Word also reached us that Paul Stretford was “in full-on grovel-mode”, to quote one journo informant, having realised that the situation had careered out of control, and having allegedly been informed that his client was having second thoughts anyway.

Where does this leave us now? There’s an obvious paradox that the week’s events (and the weepy pathos of the press conference in particular) demonstrated clearly how much weaker Fergie has become over the past five years in wrestling with both star players and miserly owners – yet the outcome of his week’s genuflections will strengthen him massively, at least in the short-term.

It shows that the supposedly impervious Glazers can be rattled, perhaps; and it gives an example to every other player who thinks in the future about playing fast ‘n’ loose with the media, with colleagues, and with fans’ sentiments. Most of all, though, we have all learned a lesson in not rushing to judgment, or decreeing finalities, until every move has been played out. For it ain’t truly over until the fat scouser sings......