Massive Ferguson

The reaction to an OAP called SAF deciding to GTFO from MUFC has been decidedly OTT, but after an unprecedented and unparalleled 26 years of success (or at least 20 years of success preceded by six years of winning fuck all) at the highest level of English football, Sir Alex Ferguson certainly deserves a few bouquets thrown his way at his curtain call. Even if, like me, you think Man U are shitcunts followed by arrivistes and wankers. His Legacy speaks for itself. It has a voicebox like KITT from Knight Rider. As BBC Sporf (yes, Sporf) put it:

26 Years

13 Premier League Titles

10 Community Shields

5 FA Cups

4 League Cups

2 European Cups

1 Piece of Chewing Gum

Which just leaves the minor issue of who you sent on as a following act. Succession planning hasn't particularly been Man U's bag - all of SAF's 2ICs have POQ'd when offered the chance to manage other sides rather than hang around and wait for the old fucker to toddle off - which necessitates the MUFC PLC sifting through candidates from outside the tent. These can broadly be sorted into three groups:

(1) Former club stalwarts 
The traditional recipe for the procurement managers in the Prem. Often also the traditional recipe for Epic Fail for the procurement of managers in the Prem.
Pros: All that touchy-feely bollocks about 'knowing the culture of the club'. Guaranteed positive reception from the terraces. Likely to already have a tracksuit in club colours.
Cons: Usually have fuck-all idea about how to manage a football team. Particularly if they got through their career on raw talent rather than intelligence or acumen. See Maradona, D.A.
Candidates: Pretty scant, despite Man U's generation of the early '90s having reached their 40s and garnered their FIFA 'A' Licences. Steve Bruce - coaching's Littlest Hobo, who's thumbed lifts between clubs up and down the top divisions of English football, last seen at Hull. Paul Ince - no. Just no. Sparky Hughes - would have been airdropped straight in four or five years ago, after flopping at Citeh and QPR wouldn't get an interview.
Dr Y's pick: Eric Cantona. Can he coach? No. Would they win? No. Would it bring the Maradona-grade lulz? Fuck yeah. The seagulls will certainly be following the trawler.

(2) Flashy Euros
Favourite route of nouveau riche clubs owned by cashed-up overseas owners (Chelski, Citeh etc). Can directly relate to the playing staff as they have much in common with them. Huge reputations. Huge wages. Huge egos.
Pros: Huge egos.
Cons: Huge egos.
Candidates: Your Svens, your Capellos, your Ancelottis, your Pep Guardiolas - all highly credentialled, all highly competent, all highly under contract to other clubs - but it's not as though tapping up is any kind of sin in the modern Premier League, after all.
Dr Y's pick: The Special One. Because he's Special. And if he signs up for a second crack at Coaching Employment Russian Roulette with Chelski, he's Special as in Needs.

(3) Angry Scotsmen
Preferred option of pretty much every club in the top two divisions of English football.
Pros: Coaching staff will not need a translator, being are already fluent in Agitated Glaswegian Bollocks
Cons: Unlikely to find another angry Scotsman who's prepared to be paid in duty free single malt and crates of cleanskin Chilean merlot
Candidates: By passport, half the Prem and two thirds of the Championship
Dr Y's pick: David Moyes of Everton. Highly experienced in taking a bog-average, unimaginative, uninspiring team and keeping them at exactly that level for as long as the cheques continue to roll in, by spending fuck-all, playing dull, ugly football, winning 1-0 and complaining a lot about refereeing decisions.

He'll be perfect for Manchester United.

The Doctor is OUT.