In this newspaper yesterday, alongside a fabulous picture of Ryan Giggs on a camel (we will surely never tire of seeing images of footballers enjoying a bit of dromedary action mid-season), was another thought-provoking interview with Sir Alex Ferguson. I say another because the Manchester United manager is becoming one of those rare public figures who generally says only interesting things – whether you agree with him or not.

The first thing that caught the imagination was his support of Rafael BenÍtez, the gist of which was that the Liverpool manager is being undermined and treated unfairly by his American bosses and this is bad for both him and the club.

Most of us would agree, and most of us are glad that he articulates it. Sure, cynics will say that it’s easy for Ferguson to sit 16 points ahead of his once arch rivals and offer support, knowing that in their present state they are unlikely to catch up this year or next; perhaps if they were a bit closer in the table, he may feel less sympathetic, but I suggest not.

In his 22 years in charge of United, Ferguson has evolved into the elder statesman of the top flight; a kind of self-appointed union leader, or, for the more romantic among us, a Gandalf figure, willing to stick his head above the parapet and say when all is not well in the world (or Middle-earth).

Time and reputation have earned him that right and his inherent sense of right and wrong makes him a natural in the role. You get the feeling that, even as a little boy, Ferguson knew what he stood for. In acknowledging that he and Arsène Wenger, the Arsenal manager, have had great support from their chairmen and boards, the Scot was taking a swipe at the running of Liverpool and not at the fans, players or manager. I imagine it will win him some friends at Anfield, temporarily at least.

There was something else, rather more philosophical, in Ferguson’s interview, which was an insight we don’t always get. “There are times as a manager, moments in every week, where you are very much on your own . . . people don’t want to knock on the door all the time because they think that you are busy . . . but you’re twiddling your thumbs . . . and in moments like that, Rafa must feel very much alone,” he said. My heart sank a little, not just for BenÍtez but for every football manager.

I have made it a mission on these pages over the years to point out when footballers and managers are behaving like spoilt boys and have tried to encourage them to get a grip on reality when their millions appear to have gone to their heads. It’s very hard for people to muster sympathy for footballing folk who have a moan or a gripe about their lot. But Ferguson wasn’t moaning – he was revealing something that even as a child of a footballer and manager I had forgotten. These men are real people, with real feelings, and if that sounds a bit Oprah Winfrey, well, so be it.

Occasionally we see behind the mask. A manager resigns to get his life back, only to come back into the game a few months later (Paul Jewell) and even more occasionally there come along managers such as Martin O’Neill and Gordon Strachan, who talk about feelings and emotions in a way that other more defensive managers (and I am talking emotional state, not on-the-pitch strategy) would find very uncomfortable.

But it is rare that we learn how that manager under the spotlight in his postmatch interview is really feeling. How often have we heard about moments of quiet in a manager’s life, where all you are left to do is twiddle your thumbs? Never – but if the manager of Manchester United is admitting to it then it must get to them all at some stage.

Ferguson also suggested that you could fill this time “ringing other managers”, which gives you an idea of how all-consuming this life is. You or I have some down time at work; we grab a coffee, gossip at the water cooler, go home early, shop online, ring our kids or get a haircut. These guys ring each other and console or support each other in a way only 19 others know how.

I have spent enough time over the years at Carrington, United’s training ground, to know that Ferguson is omnipresent. It doesn’t matter how early you get there or how late you leave, his car is still parked there. I have read that he aims to be there for 7am, when most of his players are still asleep. His manner around the ground is like that of any good CEO, always busy, always rushing.

I remember in 2003 when we were interviewing him before a Champions League quarter-final match against Real Madrid. He was late and then said that we could have only ten minutes. He was abrupt and businesslike, but five minutes into the interview he was smiling as he reminisced about Ferenc Puskas and the great Real sides of the past, and half an hour into the interview I realised that the ten-minute thing was to cover his back if he didn’t fancy carrying on. I guess I was eating into twiddle-your-thumbs time.

It was 3021 when Gandalf’s work was over and he was able to leave the future of Middle-earth in the hands of the people. As ubiquitous as he is, Ferguson’s time at United will end sooner than that. I only hope we have another manager ready to step into the role of Premier League Overlord when that day comes.