from somewhere on the net :
He spoke like a father who had been betrayed by his favourite son.
“The boy,” he kept calling him. An old man still in mourning for a dear and cherished gift that had been lost.
A man who found himself caught between vengeance and grief.
For the first time in his public life, Sir Alex Ferguson did not bother to try to cloak his hurt in a fit of anger or a burst of resentment.
Instead, the Manchester United manager made it clear that the pain he feels at what he views as the treachery of Wayne Rooney runs deep.
His vulnerability, his utter bemusement at how and why this had happened, filled the hushed room at Old Trafford and turned it into one of the most compelling pieces of football theatre that we have ever seen.
By the end of it, he had buried Rooney by painting him in vivid colours as the villain of the piece, the vandal who had daubed graffiti on the altar.
It was the performance even of Ferguson’s life, a masterclass of a speech that reached out to United supporters by invoking the club’s history and its traditions, a stirring call to arms in what feels like a gathering crisis.
To achieve that, though, Ferguson knew he could not spare himself. And so suddenly, this man who has always hated even hinting at internal conflict at his club was speaking about his best player as if he had desecrated everything Manchester United stood for.
Suddenly, he was sitting before us fighting to uphold his honour and the honour of the football club whose modern value system is his creation.
It was easy to think of him as he sat on that dais, flanked by John O’Shea and the United press officer Karen Shotbolt, as an old man holding his arms out wide, trying to halt the tide.
He had lost Cristiano Ronaldo and Carlos Tevez but Ferguson did not even try to hide the fact that he never thought he would lose Rooney.
If there was one tiny corner of innocence left in Ferguson after all these years of staying at the top in a hard, hard game, his demeanour yesterday said that it had vanished when Rooney told him he wanted to leave.
There was a catch in his voice as he spoke. Tears welled in his eyes.
It was as if he had invested more in Rooney than the rest.
As if Rooney was his last great hope, the brightest light in the autumn of Ferguson’s career, the man who would deliver the third European Cup Ferguson craves to crown his career.
He was his final project, the street footballer he thought that he could relate to, the lad he thought was immune to the whispers of agents and the lure of gold.
He believed him, he said, when Rooney told everyone he wanted to stay at United for life.
He believed him when he said there was nowhere else he would rather be. Maybe he was this angry when David Beckham left but he was never this wounded and never this despairing.
He had sensed an inevitability about Beckham’s departure. It was business. But this was personal and so it cut deeper.
But Ferguson was always going to come out fighting and so, out of the mire of his *bemusement, Britain’s greatest manager found great strength and determination.
Ferguson has made some powerful speeches in his time but most of them have been behind a closed dressing room door.
This oration was different.
This one laid bare in front of everyone the great schism between him and Rooney.
The depth of its rawness startled everyone who witnessed it.
It was as if he viewed Rooney’s turning away as a symptom of all that is wrong with a modern game that even Ferguson, the great survivor, the eternal enthusiast, is struggling to love.
It was as if Rooney’s defection was an assault on all the values that have underpinned his 24 years in charge at Old Trafford.
Ferguson couched Rooney’s refusal to sign a new contract in emotive terms.
He spoke of how he had always ensured that United was “a harbour” for him in times of trouble.
He drew a portrait of an ungrateful man, a man who he had tried to protect him from the slings and arrows of the wider world and who had flung all the club’s kindnesses back in his face.
Indignation began to colour Ferguson’s words now. Rooney, he made it clear, had not just betrayed him. He had betrayed the family that Ferguson has built at Old Trafford.
“We have done nothing but help him since he came here,” Ferguson said, as if Rooney had been United’s favourite Oliver Twist. “I can’t believe this has happened.”
Rooney may just be realising the fury he has unleashed.
He is not fit to play against Bursaspor tonight which, given the strength of feeling Ferguson has stirred up against him, may be a good thing.
It is hard to see, in fact, how the relationship between the two men can ever be repaired.
Rooney is the favourite son no more.