Chelsea managers past and present.

Chelsea managers past and present.

Deep in the bowels of Stamford Bridge the ghosts of Chelsea managers past and present hover in clandestine Dickensian corners. Occasionally you can hear the gentle whispers of Eddie McCreadie, the straight talking pronouncements of Tommy Docherty and then the philosophical utterances of the great David Sexton, a man of such wisdom and immense knowledge of the game's inner workings and rudiments that it almost seemed at times as if he were studying the game for a major academic exam.

It would have been intriguing to know what exactly either of the aforesaid managers might have thought of Jose Mourinho if indeed they thought him worthy of consideration. McCreadie would have probably told Mourinho exactly what he thought of him in no uncertain terms, Docherty would have invited him into his room for a bottle of champagne and Sexton would have given the Portuegese chapter and verse on Nietzsche or the complete works of Freud. But then Jose may well have suspected this would be the case anyway.

Yesterday Mourinho returned to his old stomping ground at Chelsea where he is still highly regarded as a saint by some but blasted as a villainous traitor by others. This time Jose Mourinho was Manchester United manager and any comparison with Tommy Docherty has to be an appropriate one. Both Docherty and Mourinho have graced the corridors of both the West London club and at Old Trafford with a unique humour and flamboyance that can never be challenged.

Now by the strangest of coincidences Mourinho is Manchester United boss and Docherty, now a long time resident in the managerial retirement home, can only cast his eyes at his modern day successor with the most wistful of smiles. Mourinho and Docherty have combined the best of both worlds, Chelsea and Manchester United coursing through their bloodstreams. But it would have been interesting to be a fly on the wall of the Docherty living room as he cast what must have been a severely critical eye over the present day Manchester United incumbent.

Yesterday lunchtime Jose Mourinho was caught up in the most unsavoury of scuffles at the end of Manchester United's 2-2 Premier League draw with Chelsea at Stamford Bridge. It was almost as if history had quite literally come back to haunt Mourinho. In the general scheme of things he would have shrugged off the whole incident as just one of those things that happen in the heat of battle. But the man from Portugal had been deeply offended by a childish taunt made by one of the Chelsea staff and just exploded.

Slowly but surely Jose Mourinho is beginning to reveal the very darkest side of his combustible character. At times it seems that he genuinely enjoys being the centre of attention and any psychologist would probably force Mourinho to lie back on a couch and talk about his childhood.  Sometimes it's almost impossible to know what it is that he finds so distasteful and repugnant about life and footballing officialdom.

His almost inexplicable outburst yesterday reminded you of dearly beloved Brian Clough. In a League Cup tie against QPR, Clough's face turned an angry shade of red and purple as a couple of over exuberant supporters invaded the pitch. Clough took the law into his hands, grabbed the miscreants by the scruff of the neck and rained down a series of rabbit punches on the fans as if determined to mete out his personal retribution.

And this is where some of us find ourselves straying into parallels with Mourinho. Clough was blunt, outspoken, militant, stubborn, idealistic and very forthcoming with his opinions. Clough conducted his press conferences rather like the Spanish inquisition, as probing and at times personal questions were dealt with ruthlessly, a long lecture and full blooded reprimand ready to be delivered. Clough knew what he was doing and this is where Mourinho came in.

As the players left the pitch after the game Mourinho strode away from his dug out with a smug look on his face. He hadn't won the match which is pretty much why he always feels hard done by. But then he smirked, grinned again repeatedly before lifting up three fingers in the air, a gesture which represented the number of times his Chelsea had won the Premier League under his stewardship.

Minutes beforehand Mourinho had been ranting and raving uncontrollably, wildly flailing his arms about rather like a man whose life savings had just been stolen from him. The final whistle had just gone, both teams honourably shook each other's hands and it looked as though that was that. But the red mist descended on the Portuegese and with emotional testosterone raging, a member of the Chelsea staff went too far in the estimation of the man from Portugal.

There was almost a delayed reaction before it suddenly hit Mourinho that he'd been humiliated and disgraced. How dare you bring the game into disrepute and how satisfying that last gasp equalising goal from Ross Barkley must have been?  Stick that in your pipe Jose. The flame had been lit and the smoke seemed to pouring from Mourinho's now silvery hair. Suddenly Manchester United had been viciously attacked and Mourinho was like a Spanish bull ready to charge at any moment.

For a while it looked as if the fire in Mourinho's eyes would never be doused but then sanity prevailed, everybody calmed down and then saw reason which it had to do eventually. A small gaggle of players and officials pushed and shoved their way into the fracas before things simmered down. At the end of it all none of us really knew why the Manchester United boss was so furious but then the latest episode of the soap opera that Mourinho has singularly written now finds itself beyond ridicule and parody.

Maybe Mourinho will indeed find peace within himself because at the moment there are more short fuses ready to be sparked if somebody decides that they don't like the colour of his coat and the way he walks over to his technical area. At the moment the menacing scowl is still there, the eyes still blazing like a bonfire, the face still screwed up into a twisted smile and then pained anguish leaving horrible scars on his cheeks.

Still, the Manchester United boss, although at internal war with himself, can of course justifiably point to the League titles in Portugal, Spain and three times over with Chelsea. That's what it says on his CV and few can argue with its validity. The football season is a long and punishing slog for most Premier League managers and your heart goes out to all of them. But Mourinho remains the persecuted one, the one picked out from the rest of the crowd for harsh and savage criticism.

The next weeks are still crucial for Jose Mourinho because when United so much as lose one game, Mourinho growls like a terrier, snaps off heads perhaps too abruptly and then spurts out his objections when somebody tries to damage either his ego or reputation. Mourinho is not a happy bunny at the moment and probably feels as though the only signing he was allowed to make for United, a player called Fred, would not nearly be good enough or effective enough to make United a side to be reckoned with.

The natives are restless, discord and dissension is beginning to grow, the United fans are beginning to look at their season tickets with a jaundiced eye and a nervous tension is festering away in the United camp that could never have been envisaged when Sir Alex Ferguson was in charge. There are worried glances, concerned head scratching and genuine panic at times. This is not quite the time for a revolt or uprising at Manchester United because the chances are that this particular crisis will blow over.

When the idolised Sir Matt Busby and Sir Alex Ferguson left Old Trafford there was a slanderous suggestion that United would fall off the footballing map and never re-surface again. In Busby's case that almost sentimental and unbreakable attachment to Manchester United would never be broken and although it took a man of Ferguson's managerial stature to resurrect the club again, Ferguson's record breaking Premier League titles and two European Cups speak for themselves.

When Mourinho goes to bed tonight he may be tempted to think that he can never do anything right in the eyes of those who have never believed in him. But Jose Mourinho will fight all of his fires and battles with a grim determination and a sense that he is the manager once and for all, he decides what is right for Manchester United and that independent streak in his nature will prove all the doubters wrong. It is hard to know whether Mourinho has a healthy collection of Frank Sinatra records in his collection but if he can do it his way then the world may seem a much better place for him. The Jose way has to be the right way. Of that you can be sure.