Rivalry between Arsène Wenger and Sir Alex Ferguson unmatched in sport

The hostility may have gone but theirs is a contest which surpasses all others
Sir Alex Ferguson
Sir Alex Ferguson and Arsène Wenger have enjoyed a more harmonious relationship in recent years. Photograph: John Peters/Getty Images. John Peters/Man Utd via Getty Images

From the shipyards of Govan and a bar-restaurant in Alsace came the two romantics who have done most in modern times to imbue English football with artistry.

If the world's favourite game is pretty much one long episode of Wacky Races, Sir Alex Ferguson and Arsène Wenger have been wheel to wheel since the last century, or September 1996, when Professor Pat Pending, as he would most likely be, entered Highbury's marble halls to declare war on the prosaic 1-0 win. For 14 years, hard Scot and visionary Frenchman have raced one another demonically, dropping out of the frame only briefly to allow Dick Dastardly (José Mourinho) to seize a pair of Premier League medals.

Ferguson served up Eric Cantona, Ryan Giggs, Cristiano Ronaldo and Wayne Rooney, and Wenger has offered us Thierry Henry, Cesc Fábregas and Robert Pires. Each manager has bestowed gifts on the English game that far transcend the tribal loathing that will splash across this afternoon's confrontation in north London. Neither chieftain will kick a ball as the teams grapple for vital psychological points but the match will be an expression of the characters of the two managers just as it always was.

This eternal conflict is in a class apart. Almost without respite the pair have fought over the high ground of expressive winning football. Ferguson went off to deal with Chelski for a while and Wenger busied himself rebuilding the London Colney kindergarten after the Invincibles had been reacquainted with defeat (and the pizza had flown) at Old Trafford in October 2004.

Today's convergence comes as Wenger's House of Promise might finally churn out the goods and United ride high in the title race despite five league defeats in 23 outings and a dip on their flamboyance chart. In Wednesday's Carling Cup semi-final second-leg, there was an early sense that the victors would be the side with the greater appetite and conviction. Manchester City may have that one day but it takes years to acquire. Fighting spirit has always competed with creativity to determine who goes home with the points when Arsenal and United clash.

Only when you really study the Ferguson-Wenger years do you realise how big a part they have played in our sporting lives. There may be nothing to match it in any major team sport across the world. When one looks for equivalents in post-war English football, Bill Shankly versus Matt Busby and Brian Clough against Don Revie drift back on the wind. But they fall far short.

The Busby-Shankly overlap spanned 12 years if you include the season Wilf McGuinness took charge before Busby returned, briefly, from upstairs. From 1959-71 Shankly won two league championships while Busby grabbed a couple to go with his 1968 European Cup.

The Clough-Revie duet was short and toxic. Revie was in charge at Leeds from 1961-74 but collided with Clough properly only when his successor at Elland Road was at Derby County from 1967-73. They won a title each in that period. It was Clough's hatred of Leeds and the 44 days he burned trying to eradicate their culture that turned his rivalry with Revie into such a rich seam of writerly material. Clough won his two European Cups with Nottingham Forest when "uncle" Bob Paisley was in charge at Liverpool and that, too, deserves a mention. Revie had his own skirmishes with Busby and Shankly in the 1960s.

But now consider the Ferguson‑Wenger narrative. In their 14 years Wenger has scored three Premier League titles and four FA Cups. Ferguson has amassed eight domestic championships, two FA Cups and two Champions League garlands. Their ambitions have played out continuously on the grandest stage conducted for club football: the Champions League, which has added a dimension denied to earlier generations, however piquant the old European Cup.

Today's Arsenal-United games lack the incendiary macho drama of the Roy Keane-Patrick Vieira era. From mutual disdain Ferguson and Wenger have evolved to respectful tolerance. The realisation that there was more to unite than divide them set in when Roman Abramovich came down in his helicopter to buy Chelsea.

The two have also seen from north and south the slow death of the autocratic manager. They have watched power shift to speculators and know-nothing owners who consider it business suicide to abdicate full control over a corporation to a guy in a tracksuit, however good.

Ferguson and Wenger are the last two untouchables in top football management. Through their wisdom and success they have saved their trade from being fully downgraded to the status of departmental head (man in charge of stuff that happens on the pitch).

They know they need each other to uphold the autonomy of the choreographer. When they're finally pulled apart, a huge light will go out.

Tait left on the sidelines by grunt and grind

Mathew Tait, England's underused utility back, offered a precious insight into rugby union's machismo problem when talking of the No13 shirt, once the livery of high-stepping cavaliers. "You're a glorified No7 [open-side flanker]," he said. "There's more contact in that channel and you probably only touch the ball five or six times a game. There's a lot more grunt and grind."

Tait has been horribly undervalued by England coaches. As Martin Johnson conceded last week, his versatility has been his curse. A test of the present regime's trust in skill and ingenuity is whether Johnson rewards Tait for some fine efforts at club level. "It feels like he's been around for ages, but he's only 23 and has 32 caps," the England manager said. "Most people are just starting their England careers at that stage." To select the more buzzy but less gifted Dan Hipkiss at outside-centre against Wales would suggest terminal conservatism.

Five things we've learned about football debt

1 Beneath Premier League grandeur there is an increasing end-of-era pathos, such as the Portsmouth website going down because its provider had not been paid. Players not receiving wages on time is also incompatible with global domination.

2 Britain's extreme laissez-faire economic model has done for football what it did to the property market: exposed us as reckless gamblers and free-market dopes.

3 Leveraged buy-outs should be outlawed where more than, say, 50% of the purchase price is met by borrowing. Using the money clubs earn to pay the interest on huge loans is just plain wrong.

4 The temptation to compete by spending tomorrow's earnings today is still too great to resist, despite the Leeds United precedent. Portsmouth and West Ham ran up wage bills way beyond their means. Lady Thatcher's children (chairmen and owners) disdain regulation but the 20 Premier League clubs will have to set self-limits to escape boom and bust.

5 Britain's absurd financial privacy code has allowed clubs to hide accounting data from supporters. If fans were allowed to monitor income and expenditure (including a precise breakdown of all transfers) there would be warning sirens and accountability.

Cause of the week

Susceptibility to big-game pressure stops many good players becoming great, and the top ones in tennis have long suspected that the way to conquer Andy Murray is to pile on the stress.

Roger Federer fired up this psychological bulldozer on the eve of this morning's Australian Open final. "I think he [Murray] really needs it more than I do, so I think the pressure's big on him," said the 15-time grand slam title winner (Britain's No1 has none, but never mind). "It's not going to be easy for him, that's for sure." Murray needs to laugh at that. Then prove him wrong.