Peter Corrigan: Retirement clock struck by poor timing

Among the lower echelons of sporting achievement, deciding when to quit is not normally a problem; you get flung out when someone else decides your time is up. For those at the top, however, it is rarely as neat or as emphatic as that.

Indeed, to reach a position where you can decide yourself when to clear your throat and make a farewell speech is far from being the luxury it would appear. So many have tried and failed to leave the stage with their reputation and dignity intact.

When Sir Alex Ferguson announced that this was to be his final season, I am sure he was not attempting to organise for himself a memorable exit through clamouring crowds. He'll get that anyhow.

He would not be averse to his team winning the Champions' League and the Premiership, as they still might do, but he probably felt that there were enough persuasive anniversaries coming up.

He has just completed his 15th year at Manchester United – in total, he has been a manager for 28 years – and he will be 60 on 31 December. Added to the decisive role the calendar is playing is his impression that the Bosman rule has changed the game's emphases to the extent that team-building is an art it is no longer possible to practise.

That, plus his desire to catch up with lost time with his family, completes a serious justification to choose a suitable date upon which to set off on a tangent towards a more tolerable life.

Upon none of this can he be faulted. Any man deserves to rest upon his laurels, especially if he has enough to stuff a mattress. But where I would question his wisdom is in the timing of his announcement. I don't know if managers have notice periods in their contracts or if, in the case of a plc, the stock market requires a long warning of a planned change at the top but surely he could have cloaked his intentions until at least the beginning of next year.

The early disclosure of his departure has created more problems than he could have anticipated. When a leader as fiercely dominant as Ferguson makes it clear that he is embarking on his last lap it is bound to make a difference to those around him.

I'm sure he wasn't expecting this season to be a lap of honour and would have entered it just as purposefully as he has always done, but if the setting of his retirement clock diminished his authority even subconsciously it would have been storing up trouble. The phrase "demob happy" used to refer to the nonchalant, carefree attitude of a soldier in the final days of his service. But, in this instance, I suspect it applies not to Ferguson but to some of his players.

Does this supply part of the reason for Jaap Stam's costly little rebellion at the start of the season? Is it in any way responsible for the lapses in form from which United have been suffering?

Ferguson's eventual departure has caused a ripple or two of disquiet throughout the rest of the game because a number of clubs are wondering if their manager is going to be approached to take over at Old Trafford.

The fact that his days were numbered also affected the position of his coach. Ferguson doesn't have one now because no one wants a job that will probably cease when the manager's successor walks in with his own entourage.

And now we have witnessed the painful row with Paul Scholes, very much a Ferguson product. Scholes refused to play in what was virtually a reserve team away to Arsenal in the Worthington Cup on Monday night. Those in the know say that Scholes would not normally react like that.

The player was fined and has since apologised but an atmosphere remains. As David Beckham pointed out to his England team-mate on Thursday: "You never question Sir Alex. He is the boss." So he is, but on Friday another United player, Mickaël Silvestre, decided to offer a few views on where Ferguson is going wrong – mainly involving his own omission from the team, of course.

I don't mind Manchester United having a struggle to win the Premiership this season. It will liven up the winter no end if they have to battle every inch of the way and, in any case, I tend towards Liverpool in these matters. But I'll take no pleasure if it means that Ferguson's long goodbye forces him to bow out with any less acclaim than that to which his long and successful career is entitled. Perhaps, the only answer is that he should delay his retirement.

Parallel lives

The long, sad saga of Michael Watson's battle for compensation from the British Boxing Board of Control for the disabling injuries he suffered in his defeat by Chris Eubank 10 years ago has finally ended.

Watson will receive a sum of around £400,000, which is well short of the £1 million damages he was seeking, but for him to pursue the matter further would have meant the BBBC going into liquidation. Watson did not want that and so agreement was reached on the lesser figure. Even then the Board are having to sell their London headquarters, Jack Petersen House, to meet the costs.

The Board never sought to avoid their obligations but are thankful to escape bankruptcy and the effect that would have had on the sport. The settlement will allow them to come out of administration and regain control of their own finances. They will now relocate to the centre of Cardiff, which is not an inapppropriate place. The country's first board of control was formed in Cardiff four years before the British body was set up in London in 1929 – and Cardiff was the birthplace of the great Jack Petersen, after whom their London HQ was named.

And by a curious coincidence, while all these negotiations were going on last week, a book on Petersen's life by Bob Lonkhurst was being launched at the Mansion House in Cardiff. Like Watson, Petersen's career ended prematurely, but outside the ring and not with such dire finality. He was advised to retire or risk permanent damage to his eyes. He was 25.

He would have lasted longer and gained more titles had he fought as a light-heavyweight. In his first year as a professional in 1931 he won both the British light-heavyweight and heavyweight championships within 51 days. He elected to stay with the heavies despite frequently giving away up to two stones to his opponents. His all-action style and courage made him immensely popular and his fights drew crowds of over 70,000 to the White City in London.

Lonkhurst's book details his epic battles against Larry Harvey and Walter Neusel and gives a fascinating insight into a great boxing era. My favourite story concerns Petersen's knock-out victory against Charlie Smith in Cardiff in 1934. Petersen threw just two punches to record the quickest ending to a heavyweight contest in Britain. It was over in 16 seconds including the count. When Smith recovered consciousness he said to his cornermen: "When do we start?"

Petersen went on to take a leading role in adminstration in boxing and sport generally and charmed everyone he met. In 1986, he became the first ex-pro to become president of the Board of Control and he deserved the honour of having his name put over the door.

Gentleman of the Ring is obtainable, price £16.95 plus £3 p & p, only from the author, Bob Lonkhurst, 6 Drayton Avenue, Potters Bar, Herts, EN6 2LF.

White fright

The bad time Wasps are having on the rugby field was compounded by an anthrax scare last week. Wednesday's practice session was halted when players reported a strange white substance on the pitch. Baffled officials sent them to the dressing-room and called the police. Home Office chemists later identified the substance as the try line.