Dear Alex,
Ever since I first started watching the English Premier League, you've always been the gaffer at Old Trafford. For decades you've built teams, you've broken up teams and won shitloads of trophies and cups in the process. I've hated and admired you in equal measures. I've cursed your teams and tactics, but only because they were that bloody effective and good.
For years I've been waiting for your dynasty to crumble, for you to lose that magic touch and for your teams to f**kin' stop making those Hollywood-style comebacks that irritated the shit out of any non-United fan - I've been waiting till now and still those wishes of mine are nowhere near to coming through.
You brought an interesting concept of "time" to the English game - "squeaky bum time" and "Fergie time" being one of your more famous contributions. You've seen off many, many challengers to the managerial throne and your teams are a constant favourite for the title almost every season.
As you walked out of tunnel to the sea of red at the Theatre of Dreams, passed by the guard of honour and lapped up the bittersweet attention of millions and millions of teary-eyed fans all around the globe, I felt a sense of sadness that this would be your last ever home game as manager of Man United. It would certainly be a strange new feeling not seeing you in that familiar seat next season.
Thank you for all that you've done for the game, from the bottom of my heart. You truly have been and will be (for a long time more, I think) the greatest ever manager to have graced the beautiful game, across all leagues, all countries, all eras and all generations.
You will be deeply missed. And not just by United fans, I can assure you.
The only (slight) consolation for me is that I am not a United fan at this point in time.
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