IMPOSSIBLE not to respect; incredibly difficult to like. Sir Alex Ferguson might have been the greatest British football manager of the last three decades, but it would be wrong to suggest he was showered with universal acclaim.

So while the tributes that have flowed in the wake of Wednesday's shock retirement decision have been understandably fulsome when it comes to Ferguson's undoubted managerial genius, it is a shame the other side of the coin has been completely ignored.

For those of us who do not have emotional ties to Old Trafford, Ferguson was often reviled as much as revered, admonished as much as admired.

None of which is to downplay his brilliance or his seismic importance in terms of shaping the British footballing landscape.

His 13 Premier League titles, nine domestic trophies and three European triumphs as Manchester United boss stand as testament to the strength of his vision, while his ability to survive 26 years in one of the toughest jobs in the game reveals an adaptability and willingness to change with the times that is often overlooked.

Ferguson will rightly be remembered as one of the all-time greats, but whereas someone like Brian Clough inspired widespread affection, the brusque, flint-edged Scot was always a less lovable character.

Was it jealousy that turned some people off him? It undoubtedly played a part. Football is a much more tribal game these days, and the list of clubs to have suffered disappointment at the hands of Ferguson's United is lengthy.

Newcastle fans never forgave him for snatching the title from their grasp in 1996, just as Liverpool supporters were never going to be appeased after Ferguson led Manchester United to the title that eclipsed their own club's domestic record.

Yet when it came to engendering hostility, it was always about more than simple envy at Ferguson's achievements.

Rightly or wrongly, the 71-year-old was regarded in many quarters as a bully, whose all-consuming will-to-win rode roughshod over notions of fair play, sportmanship and the wider good of the game.

He regularly belittled opposition managers in the name of mind games, with his rudeness and paranoia becoming most apparent when it came to his long-running battles with Arsenal boss Arsene Wenger.

When his opponents bit back, he would resort to even more obvious insults, hence his "wee club" comment aimed at Newcastle United when Alan Pardew had the temerity to question his conduct after he harangued referee Mike Dean on the pitch during the half-time interval of December's game at Old Trafford.

His relationship with authority was never an easy one, and his lack of respect for referees in particular surely helped shape an environment in which the authority of Premier League officials has all but disappeared out of the window.

For all the celebratory scenes of success, one of the abiding images of Ferguson's Manchester United reign was the sight of a posse of players led by a manic Roy Keane surrounding referee Andy D'Urso like a pack of rabid dogs during 2000's league game with Middlesbrough.

Whereas Clough, who is one of the few managers to stand alongside Ferguson as an equal, regarded the referee's role as sacrosanct, the recently-retired Manchester United boss viewed the officials as a means to an end. Hence the non-too-subtle attempts to pile on the pressure from the touchline.

If modern-day footballers are often regarded as out of control, then Ferguson is at least partially to blame for that development. He would never criticise his players in public, a stance that gave the impression that their excesses were either encouraged or condoned.

His attitude towards the press was just as myopic. People often ask what Ferguson is like when you talk to him. The simple answer - I have no idea.

Despite covering more than 20 Manchester United matches, I am still to hear Ferguson speak because unlike any other manager in the country, he refuses to attend post-match interviews.

The Premier Leagues rules forbid such a stance. Was Ferguson ever challenged? Not once, a situation that suggested the footballing authorities were scared of him.

In terms of his media responsibilities, which were diluted further by a lengthy self-imposed boycott of the BBC, it felt like it was one rule for Ferguson and another for everyone else.

And there was more. Ferguson claims to be a dyed-in-the-wool socialist and makes great play of his Govan youth, yet he was complicit in the Glazers' takeover of Manchester United, a debt-ridden deal that encapsulates much of what many believe is wrong with the financially-driven world of modern football.

By overtly expressing support for the Glazer regime, Ferguson helped legitimise a financial model that even many Manchester United supporters believe to be abhorrent.

Then there was the decision to withdraw Manchester United from the FA Cup in 1999, which was confirmed at a press conference where Ferguson sat shoulder-to-shoulder with chief executive Martin Edwards.

As someone who professes to love the history of the game, shouldn't Ferguson have done more to defend the profile and status of a competition that has now been demeaned to the extent that tomorrow's final will be played at 5.15pm when supporters will find it almost impossible to get home?

The status of the England team has plummeted in the same manner, with Ferguson's blatant disregard for international football surely a contributory factor.

Despite, or perhaps as a result of, his own unsuccessful spell as Scotland boss, Ferguson always appeared reluctant to release his Manchester United players for England duty.

Would Paul Scholes have announced his premature retirement had Ferguson not been whispering his ear? Would Rio Ferdinand have felt compelled to let down Roy Hodgson as recently as this March?

As plenty of commentators have outlined in recent days, Ferguson was a managerial giant. But he had his faults. They should not be airbrushed from history out of reverence for his achievements.