Ferguson, Alex - Alex Ferguson My Autobiography

I reported this conversation to David Gill, who passed it through to the Glazers. I’m sure it found its way back to Real Madrid as well. At that point we were petrified that the details of our agreement might creep out. We warned Cristiano to that effect. I don’t believe he would have told Real Madrid. His agent Jorge Mendes is, I should say, the best agent I dealt with, without a doubt. He was responsible, looked after his players to an incredible extent and was very fair with clubs. My feeling was that he was anxious about Cristiano going to Spain for the obvious reason that Real might just swallow him up. Different agents, different people. I think he feared losing him.

What I always thought about Ronaldo was that, even if he was having a dire game, he would always create three chances. Every game. Look at all the matches. In the mountain of video evidence, you could not find one instance where he failed to create at least three chances. He possessed an unbelievable talent. I can place everything on that list: training performances, strength, courage, skill with either foot, heading ability.

In the early days, there is no doubt that he acted a bit. His earliest lessons were in a theatrical footballing culture. Injustice was never far from the judgments formed around him. But he changed. One aspect frequently ignored by his critics was the speed he moved at. You only need to tap a player going that fast and there is a tendency for him to go over. Human balance isn’t refined enough to protect the runner from tipping over at an unnaturally fast speed. A wee prod into the side of the leg or an elbow into the body can disturb the equilibrium. The failure to appreciate that speed-to-balance factor was unfair.

In the early days, I accept, he showboated a lot, and Carlos worked hard on that part of his repertoire. He would say to Cristiano all the time, ‘You’re only a great player when people outside the club start recognising you as such. It’s not enough to be a great player to us at Manchester United. When you start delivering the passes, delivering the crosses, at the right time, people won’t be able to read you. That’s when the great players emerge.’

Opponents knew what to expect of him. They knew he was going to hold on to the ball. If you looked at his goal in the semi-final against Arsenal, you see the transition. We struck on the counter-attack, Ronaldo back-heeled it into Ji-Sung Park and we were up at the other end within nine seconds. It took nine seconds to put the ball in the back of the net.

That was the transformation from the wee show-off who was desperate to convince everyone how good he was. Yes, that’s really what it was: the need that so many gifted players have to prove just how blessed they are. And nobody could kick him out of that. No matter how many tackles or fouls he absorbed, his whole being expressed defiance: ‘You’re not going to kick me out of this game. I’m Ronaldo.’ He had that wonderful courage and confidence in his ability. He elevated himself, in my mind, and in those of the other United players, to a point where those around him were in awe of his talent.

The players were good with him in training. They helped him learn. At first when he was tackled at Carrington he would let out a terrible scream. ‘Aaggh!’ The players would give him pelters. He soon learned not to make that kind of racket. His intelligence helped. He was a very smart boy. Once he realised the players would not be a willing audience for his screaming and amateur dramatics in training, he stopped. Over time it erased itself from his game. In his last season he overreacted a couple of times to earn himself a foul, but no more than anyone else. He was granted a penalty kick against Bolton in 2008 that was never a penalty kick. Equally he hadn’t tried to earn that advantage. It was just a bad mistake by the referee. The defender stretched to win the ball, intercepted it cleanly and Ronaldo went over. It was embarrassing, not from Ronaldo’s point of view, but for Rob Styles, the match official.

Despite everyone saying they could have signed him (Real Madrid and Arsenal made that claim), we had an alliance with Sporting Lisbon, his first club in Portugal. We were sending coaches over there and they were dispatching them in the opposite direction. When Carlos joined us in 2002, he told me, ‘There’s a young boy at Sporting and we need to keep an eye on him.’

‘Which one?’ I asked. Because there were two or three.

‘Ronaldo,’ he said. We knew all about him. At that stage Cristiano had been playing centre-forward. Carlos said we would need to act because this boy was special, so we sent Jim Ryan to watch Sporting Lisbon train as part of our reciprocal deal. Jim returned and said, ‘Wow, I’ve seen a player. I think he’s a winger, but he’s been playing centre-forward in the youth team. I wouldn’t be waiting too long. At seventeen someone will gamble.’

So we threw the boy wonder’s name into a conversation with Sporting. The response was that they wanted to keep him for two more years. I suggested a deal that would keep him at Sporting for that length of time before we took him to England. At this point, though, we had not spoken to the agent or the player. It was purely a club-to-club discussion.

That summer Carlos left, to coach Real Madrid, and we went to America on tour. Peter Kenyon left, Juan Sebastián Verón left. Part of our arrangement was that we would play against Sporting Lisbon in their new stadium, which had been built for the 2004 European Championship.

So over we went. John O’Shea was right-back. People persist in saying Gary Neville was in that unenviable position. But it was John O’Shea. The first pass Ronaldo took prompted me to howl: ‘For Christ’s sake, John, get tight to him!’

John shrugged his shoulders. A look of pain and bewilderment was creeping across his face. The other players in the dug-out were saying: ‘Bloody hell, boss, he’s some player, him.’

I said: ‘It’s all right. I’ve got him sorted.’ As if the deal had been done ten years ago. I told Albert, our kit man: ‘Get up to that directors’ box and get Kenyon down at half-time.’ I told Peter, ‘We’re not leaving this ground until we’ve got that boy signed.’

‘Is he that good?’ Kenyon asked.

‘John O’Shea’s ended up with migraine!’ I said. ‘Get him signed.’

Kenyon spoke to the Lisbon people and asked their permission to speak to Cristiano. They warned us that Real Madrid had offered £8 million for him.

‘Offer them nine, then,’ I said.

Ronaldo was downstairs in a small room, with his agent, where we told him how much we would love to sign him for Manchester United. In front of Jorge Mendes I said, ‘You won’t play every week, I’m telling you that now, but you’ll become a first-team player. There’s no doubt in my mind about that. You’re seventeen years of age, it’ll take time for you to adjust. We’ll look after you.’

A private plane was hired for him, his mother, his sister, Jorge Mendes and his lawyer to come over the next day. We needed to get that deal done. Speed of action was paramount. I used to scout myself, on a Saturday morning in Glasgow, and I would always say to the men I employed in that capacity: ‘It must be great when you can spot someone you know is going to be the business.’

One night I was watching a movie, White Fang , the Jack London book about going down to Klondike in search of gold. That’s what it must be like for a scout. You’re standing watching a game on a Saturday morning and you see a George Best, a Ryan Giggs or a Bobby Charlton. That’s what I felt that day in Lisbon. A revelation.

That was the biggest surge of excitement, of anticipation, I experienced in football management. The next best was from Paul Gascoigne, for a different reason. Newcastle had been fighting relegation and Gascoigne had been out injured. We were at St James’ Park on the Easter Monday. I played Norman Whiteside and Remi Moses in the centre of the park. It was hardly a midfield of choirboys. You wouldn’t dance round that duo. Well, Gascoigne nutmegged Moses right in front of where I was sitting in the dug-out, and then patted him on the head. I flew out of that dug-out, shouting, ‘Get that so-and-so …’