Who is the real Paul Ince? The aggressive, insecure and somewhat resentful midfield enforcer once described by Sir Alex Ferguson as a “big-time Charlie” or the magnanimous, self-aware and progressive manager holding forth at the Milton Keynes Dons training ground after a gruelling training session with his coltish charges?

Ince’s credentials as one of the brightest young managers in the country are beyond dispute. He performed heroics at Macclesfield Town last season when he saved the club from relegation having taken the reins when they were seven points adrift at the bottom of Coca-Cola League Two. He then moved to MK Dons in the summer, taking over from Martin Allen, and has steered them five points clear at the top of the table.

But it is the transformation of Ince – more even than the transformation of the clubs he has managed – that will intrigue those who remember his playing days. His colleagues describe him as an assiduous and cerebral manager, who has proved himself both as a man-manager and a shrewd player in the transfer market. Whatever happened to the man who, according to a rumour he denied, insisted on being called “the guv’nor”?

“I have changed a lot,” Ince, 40, says softly, sipping a mug of tea and smiling. “But I was also a little misunderstood in my playing days. Part of my aggression was simply my will to win, which has always been very strong. This is also important to my management style, although, to be truthful, I haven’t completely discovered my identity as a manager. I only started out a year or so ago so I am new to this game. One of my advantages is that I worked with a lot of great managers, so I have plenty of experiences to draw upon.”

Ince – a very private person – is one of the few top players to have resisted the temptation to cash in on an autobiography. It is a pity because his early life, and the many crushing jolts he endured, explains much about the belligerence and vulnerability of one of the outstanding English footballers of the 1990s. In many ways Ince’s aggression was the consequence of deep insecurity.

“I grew up in a two-bedroom council flat with my mum, brother, sister, cousins and aunties in Ilford,” he says. “I shared a bedroom with my brother, sister and cousin. But I didn’t see it as poor; it was just the way it was. I had to fend for myself from a very young age.”

Ince’s father left home when he was 2 and his mother went to work in Germany when he was 10, leaving him with an auntie in Dagenham, East London. The lack of stability in Ince’s life led him, like so many dispossessed young men, in search of the camaraderie of the gang culture that was starting to sweep London in the late Seventies and early Eighties. For a while it seemed inevitable that he would get sucked into drugs and crime.

“I was in a gang from about 13 to 17. We would drink Tennent’s Super and go up to Kings nightclub every Friday night for a fight,” he says. “The big turning point came when I was 17 and the police came to the West Ham training ground after a big punch-up where this guy ended up with broken ribs. John Lyall [the West Ham manager at the time] called me into his office and told me that he had spent an hour with the police persuading them not to send me to prison.

“He told me that I had to go and apologise to the police and also to the guy who got hurt and his parents. Then I had to come into the club every morning to paint the gate claret and blue and creosote the fences. It took hours but I made sure I did it right.

“That pep talk from the manager was a turning point in my life: it had a huge impact. From then on I went about my life in a completely different way. Don’t get me wrong: there were things about gang life that I loved: that sense of family. But I realised that I had to get my act together.”

Does he have any contact with his father today? “The first time I saw him was when he decided to jump out at the press conference when I joined Man United from West Ham,” he says. “He had arranged it with the press, which I wasn’t best pleased with, so it wasn’t the nicest thing in the world. It was the first time I had seen him since, well, the age of 2. I don’t have any contact with him now.

“That is why Sharon [his wife of 18 years] is so important to me. When we got engaged it was the best day of my life. We met before I became famous so I knew that she loved me for me. She gave me the stability that I had lacked in my family life, something to hold on to. But a lot of people gave us stick because she is white and I am black. For the first few months of our relationship it was difficult but we made it through. I am a strong believer in loyalty.

“We have three kids who mean the world to me. Even now people still think of me as that aggressive footballer. But they never see me walking with my kids or being with my wife. It has been a sacrifice to be down in Milton Keynes for most of the week but one of the upsides is when I go home and see the faces of the children. They get excited because I have been away and give me lots of cuddles.”

Despite his newfound judiciousness, Ince is still outspoken about the things that really matter to him. He has made no secret of his horror that the England manager’s job has gone to a foreigner and has forcefully stated the rather glaring truth that black managers are being held back because of a lack of opportunity.

Whether he can blaze a trail by becoming the first black English manager of a Premier League side remains to be seen, but reasons for optimism are to be found in his proven ability to inspire the best from his players. MK Dons are playing a brand of highly attractive passing football far removed from the usual fare in League Two and Keith Andrews, the captain, who had a bust-up with Ince when they were at Wolves, is in the form of his life.

“Getting the best out of players is about caring about them as individuals,” Ince says. “You have to be a father, a mentor, a role model and a motivator. If they can see that you are on their side they will go the extra mile.”

It would seem that Ince, now in his fifth decade, has learnt what it takes to be a real governor.

INCE ON:

Tackling
“I love tackling, love it. It’s better than sex.”

The appointment of Fabio Capello
“It’s a sad indictment on English football that we’ve got to go to Europe for a manager. We have enough managers in England who could do just as good a job.”

The lack of black managers
“Most chairmen are 65 or 75, so maybe it’s a generational thing. Maybe black managers will have more of a chance with foreign owners coming into the game, people who don’t really see this as an issue.”

Sir Alex Ferguson
“He’s a gent from Monday to Friday . . . then on Saturday, out comes the beast.”