Page 95 - Alex Ferguson: My Autobiography

would be defused.
If I try to imagine those 20 years without the homegrown lads, I find it hard to visualise the base of
the team. They provided our stability. Manchester United are recognised for the great players we
found in the 26 years I was there, from Bryan Robson and Norman Whiteside and Paul McGrath

onwards, through to Cantona and Ronaldo. But those homegrown boys carried the spirit of
Manchester United inside them. That’s what they gave the club: spirit. They were a great example to
our coaching staff of what could be achieved through youth development, and a beacon to the young
players coming through. Their presence told the next 19-year-old coming up the line: ‘This can be
done. The next Cantona can be created here at our academy, on our training ground.’
I will always remember Paul Scholes’ first day at our club. He came in with a little guy called Paul
O’Keefe. His father, Eamonn, had played at Everton. They were standing behind Brian Kidd, who had

told me he was bringing in two lads he liked the look of. They were 13. ‘Where are these two young
kids?’ I asked Brian. They were so small they were invisible behind Brian’s frame.
They were about 4 feet 8 inches tall. I looked at this tiny pair and thought: ‘How are these two
going to become footballers?’ It became a standing joke at the club. When Scholesy came into the
youth team, I said, in the coaches’ room: ‘That Scholes has got no chance. Too small.’ When he
joined us properly at 16 he was still minuscule. But he really did shoot up. By 18, he had risen three

or four inches.
Paul never said a word. He was exceptionally shy. His father had been a good player and they had
shared a nickname, Archie. When I harboured those initial doubts about his size, I had never seen him
play in a game, though I had looked at him in training at the school of excellence. At the indoor centre
we mainly taught technical skills. When he progressed to play for the A youth team, he was a centre-
forward. ‘He’s not got the pace to play centre-forward,’ I said. They played him just behind a striker.
In one of the early games at The Cliff, he hit one on the drop just outside the box and it stopped my

breath with its power.
‘He’s good, but I don’t think he has any chance of making it. Too small,’ said Jim Ryan, who was
watching with me. It became a stock phrase at the club. Scholesy: too small.
As his time with us rolled on, Paul Scholes encountered problems with his asthma. He didn’t play
in the youth team the year they won the FA Youth Cup. Beckham joined the team only in the later
rounds because he had grown gangly and weak. Simon Davies, who played for Wales, was the

captain. Robbie Savage was also in the side. The majority of them went on to be internationals.
Another, Ben Thornley, would have earned a cap, but for major knee trouble.
As a young forward, in the hole, Scholes would be guaranteed 15 goals a season. When he
developed into a central midfield player, he had the brain for the passing game and a talent for
orchestration. He must have been a natural. I loved watching teams trying to mark him out of the game.
He would take them into positions they didn’t want to go to, and with a single touch would turn the
ball round the corner, or feint away and hit the reverse pass. Opponents would spend a minute

tracking him and then be made to appear inconsequential and sometimes even foolish. They would
end up galloping back to their own box. He would destroy a marker that way.
Paul endured several disappointments with long-term injuries but would always come back better.
He was a superior player after his eye problem and after his knee injury. He would return re-
energised.
In his early thirties, he was prone to occasional bouts of frustration as the competition for midfield

places intensified. I had Darren Fletcher and Michael Carrick to consider in the two central positions.
I confess, I made an error here. Taking people for granted is not a mistake you are necessarily aware