A Quote by Neil Warnock
As a manager I always trusted my players on Christmas Day. I did not see any point in dragging them into the training ground - a three-hour round-trip for some of them on icy roads - when they could relax with their families instead.
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My parents always liked it when I cursed in front of them. I could see the pleasure of it in their faces. It signified that I trusted them, that I was myself in front of them.
There was no better manager at developing young players than Sir Alex. He knew just when to bring them in and take them out, and he believed in Paul Pogba. For once, in Paul's case, it did not work out. The timing was wrong, and the difference between expectation on the player's side and the manager's idea of his development did not match up.
I believe in treating players like adults - though if some of them behave like children, you have to treat them as such! - and I think there is big respect the other way from players to the manager.
I have a 100-mile round trip commute on some of the nations' busiest roads and enjoy every minute of it.
But for me at any rate it was all part of dissolving the God trip or father-figure trip. Facing up to reality instead of always looking for some kind of heaven.
One of my constant reminders was, "End practice on a happy note." I wanted the boys to want to come out to practice, and I wanted them to get a certain amount of pleasure out of basketball. It's a game. It should be fun. So I always tried to counterbalance any criticism in practice with a bit of praise. I wanted my players to feel that the worst punishment I could give them was to deny them the privilege of practicing. If they did not want to practice, I did not want them there.
I worked with many great assistants to Sir Alex Ferguson over the years. Yet sometimes a manager's second-in-command is more suited to that role than any other. You confide in them - you tell them things that you would not tell the manager - and they are that bridge between the boss and the players.
Gansey could’ve had any and all of the friends that he wanted. Instead he had chosen the three of them, three guys who should’ve, for three different reasons, been friendless.
Have you any old grudges you would like to pay,
Any wrongs laid up from a bygone day?
-Gather them now and lay them away
When Christmas comes.
Hard thoughts are heavy to carry, my friend,
And life is short from beginning to end;
Be kind to yourself, leave nothing to mend
When Christmas comes.
They were tricky, those demons. Could they be trusted? Of course they could be trusted. She'd created them. She owned them. They wouldn't lead her astray.
I had twelve years as a Tottenham player under Bill Nicholson and could not have wished to have played for a better manager. I can still hear his wise words in my head when I am out on the training ground as a manager myself.
I wasn't in a position that some other memoirists are, dealing with families who fed them meth, or kidnapped them, or did something that would make the writer not want to see that family again. I wanted to see my family. I wanted to celebrate them. I was proud of who we were, in the wilderness, floating down rapids or hiking over glaciers, and everywhere else.
I never really did Christmas before. Christmas Day? I mean - what's that? What's it all about? I was always flying on Christmas Day.
I never really did Christmas before. Christmas Day? I mean - what's that? What's it all about? I was always flying on Christmas Day
I always appreciated the ex-players. Being a Yankee, you get spoiled. Old-Timers Day, all these guys coming back, spring training, being around them, you get a chance to get to know them. So I always think you learn a lot by listening.
Sophia shrieked and fainted on the ground – I screamed and instantly ran mad. We remained thus mutually deprived of our senses, some minutes, and on regaining them were deprived of them again. For an Hour and a Quarter did we continue in this unfortunate situation – Sophia fainting every moment and I running mad as often. At length a groan from the hapless Edward (who alone retained any share of life) restored us to ourselves.
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