Philip Kerr - False Nine

Whenever I want to feel better about life I go on Twitter and read some of the tweets about myself. I always come away from this experience with a strong feeling about the true sporting character and essential fairness of the great British public.

Youre a useless bastard, Manson. The best thing you ever did was resign from this football club. #Cityincrisis

Did you really resign Manson? Or were you sacked like every other overpaid cunt in football management? #Cityincrisis

You left us in the lurch, Manson. If you hadnt quit we wouldnt have that stupid bastard Kolchak in charge and we might not be 4th from bottom. #Cityincrisis

Come back to the Crown of Thorns, Scott. Mourinho did it. Why cant you? All is forgiven. #Cityincrisis

I suppose you think that what you said about Chelsea on @BBCMOTD was clever, you stupid black cunt. You make Colin Murray look good.

Most @BBCMOTD pundits are the walking dead. But if Darryl Dixon ever needed to put a crossbow bolt in a someones eye, its yours.

Just because youve been on the cover of GQ doesnt mean youre not a black bastard, Manson. Youre just a black bastard in a nice suit.

We miss you, Scott. The football is rubbish since you left. Kolchak hasnt a fucking clue. #Cityincrisis

When are you going to explain why you quit City, Manson? Your continued silence about this is damaging the club. #Cityincrisis

Im only on Twitter because my publisher thought it would help to sell more copies of my book before Christmas. Theres a new edition out in paperback with an extra chapter about my short reign at London City. Not that it says very much. Id already signed a confidentiality agreement with the clubs owner, Viktor Sokolnikov, which forbids me from saying why I left the club, and mostly its to do with the death of Bekim Develi. Or at least as much as I can say about that. The new chapter had to be read by Viktors lawyers, of course. Frankly, its really not worth the paper its written on and all the tweets in the world arent going to alter that fact.

Im not a fan of social media. I think that wed all be a lot better off if every tweet cost five pence, or you had to put a postage stamp on it before you sent it. Something like that. Most peoples opinions arent worth shit, mine included. And thats just the reasonable ones. It goes without saying that theres a lot of hate on Twitter and a great deal of that hate is to do with football. Part of me isnt surprised. Back in 1992 when a programme cost a quid and a seat no more than a tenner, I expect people were a bit more forgiving about football-related matters. But these days with a ticket at a top club like Man U costing six or seven times as much, you can forgive the fans for expecting a bit more from their team. Well, almost.

The funny thing is that while I never pay a lot of attention to the nice things people tweet about me, I cant help but pay attention to the insults and abuse I get. I try not to but its hard, you know? To that extent, Twitter is a little like air travel: you dont pay it much attention when its going well, but you cant help but pay attention when its going badly. Its curious but theres a small part of me that thinks theres an element of truth to the unpleasant tweets. Like this one:

If you were any good, Manson, youd be at another club by now. But for the death of Joao Zarco youd still be picking up cones.

And this one:

Deep down, you always knew that the boots you were wearing were much too big for you. Thats why you fell, you stupid fuck. #Cityincrisis

Then again, just occasionally you read something that seems to have something interesting to say about the game itself.

You never understood that the purpose of passing is not to move the ball but to find the free man.

And perhaps, this one, too:

The trouble with English football is everyone thinks hes Stanley Matthews. Dont dribble the ball, run with it; run to provoke.

For anyone who calls himself a football manager, being unemployed is probably your default position. Losing your job or leaving it because you find its just untenable is as inevitable as scoring a few own goals if youre a good number four. As Plato once said, shit just happens. Its always painful to leave a football club youve been managing but the high rewards for success mean there are also high risks for failure. Its the same with investment; whenever I see my financial advisor for lunch he always reminds me of the five levels of risk appetite. These are: Averse, Minimal, Cautious, Open and Hungry. As an investor I would describe myself as cautious, with a preference for safe options that have a low degree of risk and may only have a limited potential for reward. But football is very different. Football is all about the last level: if youre not risk-hungry youve no business being a manager. Anyone who doubts that should look at the colour of Mourinhos hair or check the lines on the faces of Arsne Wenger and Manuel Pellegrini. Frankly, its only when youve lost your job that you can truly say youve made your bones as a manager. But lets face it, todays managerial pariah can quickly turn into tomorrows messiah. Brian Clough is the best example of a manager who failed badly at one club only to succeed spectacularly at his next. Its tempting to imagine that Leeds United might have won two European Cups, back to back, if only theyd kept faith with Clough. In fact Im sure of it.

Even so, its hard being out of football management. It wasnt so hard during the summer, but now that the season is well under way I just want to be on the training ground with a team even if I am just picking up the cones. I miss the game a lot. I miss the lads at London City even more. Sometimes I miss the team so much I feel physically sick. Right now I feel ill-defined as a person. Like I have no meaning. Etiolated. Which is a good word for what its like to be an unemployed manager: it means someone whos lost their vigour or substance, and it also means pale and drawn-out due to a lack of light. Thats exactly how I feel: etiolated. Just dont use a word like that on MOTD or theyll never ask you back. I can just imagine the tweets Id get about using a word like that.

The fact is that youre only a manager when youre managing, as Harry Redknapp might say. When youre not doing it when youre appearing as a pundit on MOTD, or a guest on A Question of Sport youre what, exactly? Im not sure that Im anything at all. But heres another tweet that puts it very well, I think:

Now that youve left City, Manson, youre going to find out that youre just another cunt in football.

Yeah, thats exactly right. Im just another cunt in football. Its worse than being an actor whos working as a waiter because no one knows when youre a resting actor. But when youre a manager whos out of work the world and his fucking dog seem to know about it. Like the bloke who sat beside me on the plane to Edinburgh this morning.

Im sure youll find another job in management soon, he said, encouragingly. When David Moyes was sacked from United I knew that it wouldnt be long before he was back at a top club. Itll be the same for you, mark my words.

I wasnt sacked. I resigned.

Every year its the same old game of musical chairs. You know, Scott, I think people should bear in mind that it takes time for a manager to turn things around when a club is not doing well. But if you give a manager that time, then quite often hell prove his gainsayers wrong. Nine times out of ten, the managers just the scapegoat. Its the same in business. Take Marks & Spencer. How many CEOs has Marks & Spencer had since Sir Richard Greenbury left in 1999?