Chapter 1
The Winning Formula: Sir Alex Ferguson's Leadership Legacy
In the autumn of 2012, Sir Alex Ferguson stood before a packed lecture hall at Harvard Business School, reflecting on his remarkable journey from a 16-year-old apprentice tool-maker to the most successful football manager in history. The students weren't there to discuss corner kicks or transfer strategies-they wanted to understand the leadership principles behind Manchester United's unprecedented success. This moment crystallized Ferguson's unique position as not just a football manager but a leadership icon whose methods transcend sport. Named one of Bill Gates' favorite books of 2015 and regularly cited by CEOs across industries, "Leading" distills five decades of experience into timeless wisdom about building winning teams, maintaining excellence, and navigating the complexities of human potential. As Ferguson himself puts it: "The job of a leader is to inspire people to be better than they think they can be."
Chapter 2
The Art of Observation: Developing Your Leadership Lens
The foundation of Ferguson's leadership philosophy rests on a deceptively simple principle: before you can lead others, you must truly see and understand them. "God gave us two ears, two eyes, and one mouth so we can listen and watch twice as much as we talk," Ferguson notes. This observational approach wasn't merely philosophical-it transformed his career when assistant Archie Knox convinced him to step back from conducting training sessions to observe from the sidelines.
Initially reluctant to surrender control, Ferguson discovered that this distance provided invaluable perspective. "It was the most important management decision of my career," he reflects. From the sidelines, he could detect subtle shifts in players' moods, energy levels, and habits that remained invisible when he was directly involved. This dual perspective-the ability to zoom in for details while maintaining the big picture-became his hallmark.
Ferguson's observational skills yielded countless dividends. While scouting an opponent, he noticed Ji-sung Park, a player he hadn't come to see but whose relentless work rate caught his attention. Park later became instrumental in Ferguson's tactical plans against elite European teams. In 1969, Ferguson observed West Germany training without goalkeepers, focusing entirely on possession-a revolutionary concept he immediately adopted and used throughout his career.
This commitment to observation extended beyond the pitch. Ferguson studied leadership examples across disciplines, drawing inspiration from UCLA basketball coach John Wooden, Green Bay Packers' Vince Lombardi, and military history. After attending SAS training with his Aberdeen squad, he adapted their flanking attack formations to football tactics, resulting in defender Gary Pallister scoring twice against Liverpool using precisely this approach.
Ferguson's reading habits reflected this cross-disciplinary curiosity. While most football autobiographies left him cold, he devoured accounts of Abraham Lincoln's "Team of Rivals" cabinet and JFK's measured decision-making during the Cuban Missile Crisis. These studies taught him the virtue of patience-a quality that tempered his natural impulsiveness as he matured as a manager. "Sometimes," he learned, "the wisest response is 'Let me think about it.'"
Chapter 3
Discipline: The Non-Negotiable Foundation
Ferguson's approach to discipline was forged in the working-class neighborhoods of Glasgow, where his shipbuilder father instilled punctuality and work ethic as sacred values. "My father would shake me awake at 6 a.m. and leave precisely at 6:45 to be at the yard when the gates opened," Ferguson recalls. This early imprinting explains why Ferguson routinely arrived at United's training ground "before the milkman."
At Manchester United, Ferguson immediately addressed discipline issues that had plagued the club. He replaced mismatched sponsor tracksuits with formal club blazers and ties, regulated hairstyles, banned excessive jewelry, and established clear standards of professionalism. These weren't arbitrary rules but part of a deliberate culture-building strategy. "When you see players walking around like they're in a fashion show," Ferguson notes, "they're thinking about themselves, not the team."
Ferguson's disciplinary approach operated on a graduated scale. For minor infractions, the silent treatment often proved effective. More serious violations warranted fines-typically one or two weeks' wages-or exclusion from the squad. The most severe penalties were suspension and transfer. What distinguished Ferguson's discipline was its consistency and principle-centered nature. He never allowed sentiment or expediency to override team standards, even when it cost the club championships.
This commitment to principle was tested in 1995 when Eric Cantona, United's talisman, kicked a Crystal Palace fan who had hurled abuse at him. Despite the potential impact on United's title chances, Ferguson suspended Cantona while simultaneously defending him publicly against excessive media criticism. This balanced approach-firm discipline coupled with fierce loyalty-earned Ferguson unwavering commitment from his players.
Ferguson's disciplinary standards extended beyond behavior to work ethic. "I could forgive players for making mistakes," he explains, "but I couldn't tolerate anyone who didn't give their absolute best." This standard was non-negotiable, regardless of a player's status or talent. When three star players showed up unfit after Christmas celebrations in 2011, Ferguson dropped them from a crucial match against Blackburn, which United subsequently lost. The defeat proved costly in that season's title race, but Ferguson never regretted the decision. "Principles," he insists, "matter more than short-term results."
Chapter 4
Hunger: The Driving Force Behind Sustained Excellence
What separates the good from the great? For Ferguson, the answer lies in an intangible quality he calls "drive"-a combination of work ethic, emotional fortitude, concentration, and refusal to admit defeat. "Drive is more potent than raw talent," Ferguson insists, pointing to players like Bryan Robson, Roy Keane, and Steve Bruce who achieved greatness through sheer determination rather than natural gifts.
Ferguson's own work ethic bordered on obsessive. During his career, he missed only three Manchester United matches out of approximately 1,500. At Aberdeen, he and assistant Archie Knox would drive six hours round trip to scout opponents, telling themselves, "If we miss one game in Glasgow, we'll miss two." This relentless commitment extended to his players, who understood that talent alone wouldn't secure their position.
The most successful United teams featured a core of players whose drive infected the entire squad. Bryan Robson, from the mining area of Chester-le-Street, performed a thousand daily press-ups despite recurring shoulder dislocations. Roy Keane's relentless standards elevated everyone around him. Ferguson would show younger players a photograph of Steve Bruce defending a corner, eyes glazed over in total concentration, as the embodiment of what he expected.
Ferguson recognized that drive manifests differently across personalities. David Beckham's obsessive practice habits, Gary Neville's meticulous preparation, and Denis Irwin's quiet reliability all represented variations of the same underlying quality. What united these players was their contagious winning mentality-they would, as Ferguson colorfully puts it, "run through barbed wire fences while older players looked for the gate."
This hunger proved particularly crucial during United's famous comeback victories. The team's ability to score decisive goals in the final minutes-what became known as "Fergie Time"-wasn't merely about luck or fitness. It reflected a collective refusal to accept defeat that Ferguson had cultivated over decades. When United scored two goals in injury time to win the 1999 Champions League final against Bayern Munich, completing an unprecedented Treble, it represented the ultimate expression of this mentality.
Ferguson understood that drive couldn't easily be instilled in someone who hadn't developed it before their teens. This insight guided his recruitment strategy-he sought players who had overcome adversity or demonstrated exceptional determination early in their development. Ole Gunnar Solskjaer, who arrived looking like "a choirboy," gradually developed real conviction and aggression under Ferguson's guidance, exemplifying how the right environment could nurture this quality.
Chapter 5
Building a Winning Organization: The Pipeline of Excellence
Ferguson's approach to building Manchester United extended far beyond the first team. He understood that sustainable success required a comprehensive organizational structure-what he calls "the pipeline." When he arrived at United in 1986, he found a club with just four or five departments and approximately 85 employees. Rather than immediately focusing on the team, Ferguson concentrated on rebuilding the club's infrastructure, confident that patience would eventually yield the best team.
Central to this approach was United's youth development system. Under Ferguson's guidance, the academy became a conveyor belt producing the talent needed for sustained success. "I always wanted to know what our team would look like three years ahead," Ferguson explains. This long-term vision contrasted sharply with the short-term thinking prevalent at many clubs.
The success of this approach was dramatically illustrated by the 1999 Treble-winning squad, in which half of the 30-player group was under 25, including homegrown talents like David Beckham, Ryan Giggs, Nicky Butt, the Neville brothers, and Paul Scholes. When television pundit Alan Hansen famously claimed "you can't win anything with kids" after United's 1995 loss to Aston Villa, Ferguson believed precisely the opposite-"you'll never win anything without them."
Ferguson created clear development paths through the youth academy, B team, A team, reserves, and first team. In the academy, fundamentals were drilled relentlessly, but as players matured, the management approach shifted to emotional and psychological support. Young players were protected from media pressure-Ryan Giggs didn't give his first interview until he was 20-while being exposed to mentoring from senior players who occasionally played with the reserves or watched youth matches.
The pipeline extended globally as United's scouting network expanded. Ferguson signed promising talents from around the world, including the Da Silva twins from Brazil, Giuseppe Rossi from Italy, and Gerard Pique from Spain. Even in his final seasons, Ferguson continued this tradition by signing youngsters like Adnan Januzaj, Tyler Blackett, Paddy McNair, and James Wilson.
This methodical approach to talent development created a self-sustaining cycle. Young players brought vital energy and enthusiasm to the organization, while their loyalty to the club that had developed them created a strong cultural foundation. "Youngsters will run through brick walls for you," Ferguson notes, "while established stars often look for the door."
Chapter 6
The Art of Leadership: Creating Unity Through Diversity
Balance is the key to every successful team. Ferguson understood that winning required a careful blend of different talents, personalities, and ages. "It's impossible to win with identical talents," he explains. Throughout his tenure at United, he maintained the squad's average age at approximately 26, despite criticism when he retired that the team was aging.
Ferguson approached team-building as a jigsaw puzzle, with each player filling a specific role. He valued versatile players like Ryan Giggs and John O'Shea, reliability from workhorses like Brian McClair and Denis Irwin, and durability from stalwarts like Steve Bruce and Eric Cantona. The creative, attacking players-those who "see what others cannot"-particularly drew Ferguson's attention. Players like Cristiano Ronaldo, Ryan Giggs, and Eric Cantona decided matches, while the Roy Keanes and Nemanja Vidics provided the foundation.
Ferguson effectively rebuilt his team every four years, being clinical about player capabilities despite their past contributions. "The hardest part of rebuilding a team is leaving out the players who have been the foundation of your success," he admits. This process required careful integration of newcomers, as they needed time to adapt to United's style and their teammates' habits. Players like Patrice Evra and Nemanja Vidic took six months to settle, while academy graduates like Giggs, Scholes, and Beckham had an unspoken understanding that newcomers lacked.
Character clashes required delicate management. When Andy Cole and Teddy Sheringham refused to speak to each other despite playing as striking partners, Ferguson threatened dismissal if their personal feelings affected their professional relationship. They became model professionals thereafter. When tensions emerged between Ruud van Nistelrooy and a young Cristiano Ronaldo over passing decisions, Ferguson addressed the issue directly rather than allowing it to fester.
Ferguson's approach to captaincy reflected his leadership philosophy. He sought four principal virtues in captains: desire to lead, trustworthiness in conveying his intentions, respect from teammates, and adaptability to changing circumstances. Bryan Robson exemplified the perfect captain when Ferguson arrived-determined, tactically astute, and willing to speak his mind. Later captains like Steve Bruce, Eric Cantona, and Roy Keane brought different but equally effective leadership styles.
Ferguson valued his captains' opinions between games while maintaining his role as ultimate decision-maker. Before the 1996 FA Cup final, Eric Cantona suggested dropping Roy Keane in front of the back four to handle Liverpool's Steve McManaman-an astute tactical observation that helped United win the match. This collaborative approach, balanced with clear authority, created an environment where players felt valued while understanding the chain of command.
Chapter 7
Setting Standards: The Relentless Pursuit of Excellence
Ferguson established a culture where excellence was the minimum expectation. Rather than declaring specific trophy goals, he'd simply state: "At United we expect to win every game"-setting an agenda of excellence without creating unnecessary pressure. This approach evolved from early career lessons, like when he boasted St. Mirren wouldn't lose again one season, only to win just one remaining fixture.
Ferguson approached success in digestible chunks rather than giant leaps. He'd avoid specific objectives until November, when he might say, "If we're within three points of the lead on New Year's Day, we have a fantastic chance." This step-by-step approach applied during games too. When United trailed Tottenham 3-0 at half-time in 2001, he didn't demand four goals-he simply said, "Score the next goal and let's see where that takes us." They eventually won 5-3.
For Ferguson, excellence wasn't about statistical targets but creating an environment where players constantly pushed their boundaries. He used contract renewals to discuss performance and improvement areas, always explaining expectations to new signings. He challenged established players by asking how many medals they had, telling them they couldn't consider themselves true United players until they'd won ten-an impossible standard that nonetheless drove continuous improvement.
Ferguson understood that inspiration comes not through fear but by earning respect and convincing people they can improve. "The two most powerful words in English are 'Well done,'" he explains. "Leadership is about finding that extra 5 percent people didn't know they possessed."
After each season, Ferguson insisted players erase the previous campaign's memory, whether they'd won or lost. Success didn't guarantee future victories, and he refused to let defeat create a hangover. This forward-looking mentality prevented complacency-football's "dry rot" that remains unnoticeable until devastating. Ferguson witnessed complacency's curse firsthand as a Rangers player in 1968 when they lost the final match and the league title. At United, he remained vigilant against it, particularly after major trophies.
While Ferguson celebrated achievements, his satisfaction rarely lasted beyond a couple of hours. After matches, he'd give press interviews, attend receptions, and finally collapse into bed around 1 AM. Any satisfaction would be gone by morning, as he was already thinking about the next challenge-how to improve, which players were aging, how to prevent complacency from undermining future success. This relentless forward momentum defined Ferguson's approach to excellence.
Chapter 8
The People Factor: Measuring Character and Potential
The ability to accurately evaluate character forms the foundation of effective leadership. Throughout his career, Ferguson developed a keen eye for assessing people-from job candidates and potential signings to existing team members whose roles might need adjustment.
As an interviewer, Ferguson sought specific qualities: ambition, commitment, enthusiasm, positive attitude, eye contact, and personal courage. Small signals mattered-someone sitting upright and leaning forward showed eagerness, better than cockiness or disinterest. He valued candidates who asked thoughtful questions, revealing their thinking process and maturity.
For player assessment, watching performances mattered more than interviews. While meeting a 16-year-old might reveal little about footballing ability, it might show determination. Character judgments remained educated guesses until proven through performance over time, particularly during setbacks. "The ultimate judge," Ferguson notes, "is Father Time."
Ferguson built extensive networks that yielded spectacular results. His Portuguese-speaking assistant Carlos Queiroz encouraged a relationship with Sporting Lisbon, which led to signing Cristiano Ronaldo. Veteran players formed a valuable intelligence network-Ferguson regularly consulted Ryan Giggs, Paul Scholes, Gary Neville, and Rio Ferdinand about potential signings, particularly English players. Their recommendations led to signing Michael Carrick from Tottenham in 2006.
These networks extended beyond current team members. Former players and staff who were treated well maintained affection for the organization and willingly helped when needed. Ferguson cultivated this approach at United, integrating former players into coaching roles to ensure continuity of excellence. Brian McClair, Jim Ryan, and Mick Phelan brought their experience of success, while Ryan Giggs served as assistant manager after retirement.
Ferguson also maintained connections with supporters through three long-time fans who watched training sessions and gave unfiltered feedback. Norman Williams, in his eighties when United overtook Liverpool's Championship record in 2011, thanked every player, telling them "You've made my life." He died that same night.
Perhaps most challenging were Ferguson's decisions about releasing players. The hardest conversations were with youngsters who'd dreamed of playing in the Premier League but weren't good enough for Old Trafford. "These boys and their families had sacrificed everything pursuing their dreams," Ferguson recalls. "I felt terrible for the parents who'd endured countless practices and games in all weather, and often all three of us would end up in tears."
Ferguson worked hard to create opportunities for released players, calling other clubs to help them find positions. Many thrived after United released them-David Platt went on to captain England, Robbie Savage built a Premier League career, and dozens of Premier League players like Ryan Shawcross and Phil Bardsley came through United's academy. "The quality of an organization," Ferguson believes, "shows in how it helps people land comfortably when they don't quite make the grade."
Chapter 9
Focus: The Discipline of Attention
Ferguson's father always said, "Don't lie, don't steal, and always be early." This emphasis on punctuality reflected a deeper philosophy about valuing time. Ferguson was invariably first into work, arriving at United's training ground by seven each morning. This early-rising habit gave him uninterrupted hours for planning before others arrived.
As Ferguson matured, he developed an acute awareness of time's value. "Young people think they have endless time," he observes. "For a ten-year-old, waiting for their next birthday feels eternal because that year represents 10% of their life. At fifty, the wait to your next birthday is just 2% of your lifetime." This perspective made him increasingly protective of how he allocated his attention.
Shielding players from distractions became a crucial part of Ferguson's job. The commercial department constantly wanted players for sponsor events-an insatiable demand that grew as United's global profile increased. Ferguson's assistant Mick Phelan expertly managed these requests, scheduling many during pre-season and limiting training session access to just minutes.
Before major matches, Ferguson developed the ability to mentally cocoon himself, often becoming so lost in thought that staff conversations would pass by unnoticed. He emphasized to players: "Don't play the occasion, play the game"-ignoring the bands, new suits, and pre-game theatrics that don't influence results. "The only way to enjoy a final," he would tell them, "is to win it; nobody remembers the losers."
Ferguson's approach to failure further demonstrated his focused mentality. He was always a better manager after a loss-it made him sharper, driven to prove he wasn't a loser and to avenge defeat. "After the 1993-94 season," he admits, "every year we didn't win the League felt like failure." Eventually, his desire to win outstripped his fear of failure.
Losing became a powerful management tool. After Manchester City won the Premier League in 2012, Sunderland fans taunted United mercilessly. In the dressing room afterward, Ferguson told the players to remember this treatment whenever they returned to play there. The following season, United beat Sunderland 1-0 on their way to reclaiming the title.
With experience, Ferguson became more gracious in defeat. As a young manager, he was terrible-once making Aberdeen players run through town after a bad loss so fans could berate them. The most gracious lesson came from Bayern Munich manager Ottmar Hitzfeld, who showed remarkable dignity after United's 1999 Champions League victory snatched the trophy from them in the final minutes.
Perhaps Ferguson's most important lesson about handling failure came from his mother. At 21, disillusioned at St Johnstone, he nearly emigrated to Canada. After faking illness to avoid a game, the manager discovered his deception and forced him to play. Ferguson scored a hat-trick, changing his life trajectory. His mother had read him "the riot act," teaching him never to give in-a lesson he passed on to generations of players.
Chapter 10
Communicating with Purpose: Owning the Message
Ferguson communicated with diverse constituencies requiring different approaches: owners, staff, players, and supporters. With Manchester United's ownership, he established clear communication patterns-meeting twice weekly with chairman Martin Edwards in the early years, then working closely with CEO David Gill, who became his conduit to the American Glazer family after their 2005 takeover.
With players, Ferguson's communication occurred in three settings: during training, on match days, and one-on-one. He kept team talks brief and direct, especially as the squad became more international. "I never showed intimidation by opponents," Ferguson explains, "and always emphasized winning individual battles." At halftime, he'd share observations without issuing individual reminders that might plant doubt.
The delivery method mattered greatly. Ferguson rarely lost his temper in crucial games when trailing, saving his "bark" for when United were ahead to prevent complacency. Sometimes silence after bad results proved more effective than words. He maintained eye contact during team meetings, never using notes which would undermine authority.
Ferguson constantly sought fresh themes for team talks, never wanting to seem repetitive. Once, after attending a classical concert with assistant Carlos Queiroz, he compared the conductor's work to his own-seeking control, harmony, tempo, timing, and rhythm. Some stories became familiar to veterans like Giggs and Scholes, such as his tale about Canada geese migrating as a team, taking turns breaking air at the front and helping injured members.
Ferguson's public communication strategy evolved throughout his career. At United, he immediately eliminated his predecessor's daily press briefings, limiting media interactions to pre-match and post-match sessions. Press conferences became exercises in control-complete when issuing statements, challenging during live questioning where journalists hunted for verbal slips.
Ferguson banned over 20 journalists who manufactured stories during his tenure. Even United's own television channel MUTV occasionally irritated him enough to withhold interviews. After losing to Real Madrid in 2013 due to a controversial red card, he was too upset to face reporters and sent his assistant Mick Phelan instead.
For direct communication with supporters, Ferguson used match-day programs. Unlike media interactions that risked having messages garbled or taken out of context, the program offered reliable direct communication with Old Trafford attendees. Ferguson injected intimacy by including tributes to former players who had died or friends from his early career-offering something beyond mundane match recaps.
Perhaps Ferguson's most meaningful communication came in brief personal responses to correspondence. Before email and texting became prevalent, he regularly sent condolence cards, congratulatory messages, and thank-you notes to fans. "I still send about 2,000 Christmas cards annually," he notes, "not to be extravagant, but to let people know I'm thinking of them."
Chapter 11
The Business of Winning: Leadership Beyond Management
The distinction between leadership and management formed a central theme in Ferguson's approach. "Authority rests on the confidence of those who provide it," he explains. "No leader succeeds when those under him sense his position is tenuous." At United, Ferguson benefited from unwavering support from the club's ownership, which made his job immeasurably easier.
Ferguson advises aspiring managers to carefully examine ownership before accepting any job. "A housefly has a longer life expectancy than the manager of a Premier League team," he notes wryly. When his former player Ole Gunnar Solskjaer was negotiating with Cardiff City, Ferguson advised him to get everything in writing while his leverage was strongest.
Control and delegation formed two sides of Ferguson's leadership coin. While he maintained complete authority over team matters, he learned that working through others is far more effective than trying to do everything personally. "When I hired someone," Ferguson explains, "I trusted them completely, whether coaches, medical staff or analysts."
This delegation extended to business operations. As Manchester United grew more complex, Ferguson let CEO David Gill handle commercial matters while he focused on football. Between 1986 and 2013, United's commercial operations transformed dramatically, with turnover reaching 363 million in Ferguson's final year. This natural division of responsibilities mirrors other creative industries-like newspapers or fashion houses where editors or designers focus on product creation while CEOs handle business activities.
Ferguson's approach to financial matters reflected his Scottish upbringing and modest earnings as a player. Despite eventually commanding substantial resources at United, he maintained a frugal mindset. "Throwing money at problems never produces lasting solutions in football," he insists. The backbone of United's success was built relatively economically-5.5 million for Patrice Evra, 7.5 million for Nemanja Vidic, and just 2 million for 34-year-old Edwin van der Sar.
When negotiating transfers, Ferguson remained strategic and unemotional. "I always reminded myself our success didn't hinge on one player," he explains. United walked away from Sergio Aguero and Lucas Moura when prices became unreasonable. Sometimes failed negotiations led to better outcomes-missing Glenn Hysen but getting Gary Pallister instead.
Ferguson's business acumen extended to information management. He divided information into two categories: what he'd share and what he'd keep secret. While generously sharing training methods with visiting coaches, he maintained absolute secrecy about strategic matters-transfer funds, target players, and injuries. "Tell them nothing" was his mantra regarding sensitive information. He even had Wayne Rooney continue wearing his rehab boot to deceive Bayern Munich about his availability before a crucial Champions League match.
Chapter 12
Legacy and Transition: The Final Challenge
Ferguson's retirement in 2013 marked the end of an era at Manchester United. After 39 years in management, including 26 at United, he recognized it was time to prioritize family, particularly his wife Cathy who had supported him throughout his career. "My first retirement attempt at 60 was botched," Ferguson admits. "I announced it too early, which made the players 'go to sleep,' but thankfully my family convinced me to change my mind."
The transition to David Moyes wasn't seamless, particularly given the disappointing 2013-14 season that saw United fail to qualify for Champions League for the first time since 1995. Ferguson acknowledges there are things Moyes might have done differently, like keeping assistant Mick Phelan who would have provided continuity and institutional knowledge.
Ferguson points to Bob Paisley succeeding Bill Shankly at Liverpool as a rare example of successful transition in football. Paisley was initially reluctant but kept Shankly's team intact while gradually improving it, winning three European Cups. This model of gradual evolution rather than revolution provides a template for effective succession.
Retirement has brought Ferguson new freedoms. "For the first time since childhood, I control my own schedule instead of being imprisoned by the relentless calendar of management," he explains. He wakes at eight instead of six, has breakfast with Cathy-something he hadn't done for 30 years-and enjoys village lunches without rushing back to Manchester.
Ferguson has balanced staying engaged while living at a different pace through various roles: United board member and ambassador, Harvard Business School lecturer, and UEFA coaching ambassador. Horse racing has become a pleasurable pastime-he studies bloodlines and pedigrees, owns shares in several horses, and enjoys lingering at tracks without rushing back to work.
What Ferguson misses most isn't the trophies or spotting talent, but the camaraderie-talking with assistant Mick Phelan, seeing kit manager Albert Morgan daily, bantering with groundsmen Tony and Joe, and interacting with laundry and canteen staff. "Most of all I miss being around young people eager to take on impossible challenges," he reflects.
Despite these occasional pangs, Ferguson has embraced his new chapter. Before retiring, he received simple but profound advice: "Don't put your slippers on." This philosophy continues to guide him as he contributes to football and leadership development in different ways. "That's why," he concludes with characteristic determination, "I put my shoes on right after breakfast."
