Even King Fergie would agree football is the winner

IT had been 17 games since a newly-promoted team had taken so much as a point from Manchester United.

And Sir Alex Ferguson will have spent most of the last few days making sure it will be another 17 before Burnley's trick is repeated.

But, in the odd moment, you can be guaranteed Ferguson will have allowed himself a smile.

In defeat for his celebrated side, Ferguson was reminded why he is besotted by this beautiful, maddening game. He is the manager of a club that is nothing less than a global phenomenon.

Owned by American tycoons, revered in the Far East, a European superpower, a worldwide brand.

But where is the thrill? Where is the spine-tingling shiver that shook Turf Moor on a balmy Wednesday evening?

Where is football in the raw? Stripped of its commercial cloak - of its endless surveys by Deloittes, of its multi-billion TV deals, of its Ferraris, of its Rolexes, of its sprawling, tasteless mansions, of its tattoos, of its WAGs, of its yacht-owning, bodyguard-surrounded oligarchs.

Flittingly - bear in mind that the last two promoted teams to beat United were relegated in that same season - we had a glimpse of it five days ago. And Ferguson probably approved.

Approved that one game of football could make a working-class community forget the drudgery of everyday life in a town rendered irrelevant by the Blackberry-wielding, stock-dealing, bonus-pocketing parasites who have hijacked this country's values.

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He hinted as much in his post-game reaction, magnanimously accepting defeat and dwelling on 'a great occasion'.

I bet he even envied Owen Coyle. In fact, I don't bet, I am sure.

In 90 minutes, Coyle had pumped life into a flatlining community, given a deathly-grey populace a golden hue.

Win another Premier League, another Champions League and what will Ferguson achieve?

A hike in United's value? A telegram from Florida from an owner who wouldn't know a diamond formation from a dollar bill, a George Best from a George Washington? A thank-you from Old Trafford guides who make a living peddling bull to tourists who believe football only started when the Premier League was formed?

Ferguson, reared on the streets of Govan, probably gazed through the smoke-glassed windows of the team coach as it navigated its way out of Burnley - and approved. It may eventually cost him another title. But he would have approved.

Because, like the rest of of us who adore this sport, he will have been reminded that there is a reason for a football club to exist. That reason is not to inflate the ego of a Russian tycoon. Not to showcase the wealth of an Arabian billionaire. Not to line the pockets of a stock market opportunist.

Football clubs should be the focal points of a community. Instead, they are currently lined up like airbrushed photos in an estate agent's window.

Everton, Birmingham, Newcastle, West Ham, Portsmouth.

Ah, Portsmouth. A club that almost deserves to go to the wall.

A club that built an FA Cup success on foundations of quicksand. A club whose hierarchy - chief executive Peter Storrie and former manager Harry Redknapp - were happy to spend the money of a guy they clearly knew little about.

Values

To buy players - and don't forget, it wasn't long ago that humble Pompey supplied FIVE England internationals - they must have known the club could ill-afford.

Storrie still collects his seven-figure salary, Redknapp saw the signs and scarpered. Peter Crouch, Glen Johnson, Lassana Diarra, Jermain Defoe et al have fled.

Portsmouth, a club which should have similar values to Burnley but were turned doe-eyed by the reported wealth of an exotically-named buyer, lost sight of its real reason to exist. And that is why its existence is threatened.

Sad. Very sad.

Portsmouth could never fill a 40,00-seater stadium, as was once suggested. It could never attract genuine stars, as it tried to do when offering Defoe, Diarra and the like eye-watering deals. But it could have lifted a community. In the same way as Burnley Football Club has.

They may emulate Norwich and Wolves - the previous two promoted teams to beat Manchester United - and be relegated. They may not win another game this season. But they have restored faith in the fundamental, uplifting powers of football.

Powers that don't need generating by oil largesse. For that, Owen Coyle and Burnley deserve thanks.

And I suspect Sir Alex, for all the baubles of his success, would be the first to offer them.

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