OpinionHome and Away: Chip prohibition sparks rebellion that led to Moyes' fall

Chips - or as Americans call them, fries - are the enduring staple of the Great British diet. But they can bring a man down. Just ask David Moyes. According to former Manchester United defender Rio Ferdinand, Moyes dared to ban the deep fat-fried potato dish on nights before a big game. Within a week of becoming manager he had outlawed them "for no good reason", claims Ferdinand in his newly released (ghost-written) autobiography, #2sides. The smallest side-dish controversy can be magnified and seed unrest among a silent, brooding shop floor The players "loved" their chips to bits, reveals the 35-year-old defender, who left for QPR in the summer. And "all the lads were p****d off" when their favourite fodder was shown the door. Chips had long been part of the United's pre-match ritual in the dressing room; the fusion of superstition and grease had fuelled the team to many a win and many a title. Yet Moyes' aversion to the humble lard-induced slithered spud upset his brooding stars. They started polishing the sharp elements of the Old Trafford cutlery collection and had begun plotting over pudding. Within 10 months and with United facing EPL and Champions League meltdown, Moyes was gone and replaced by Old Trafford stalwart Ryan Giggs. One of Giggs' first acts was to return chips to the menu, Ferdinand says. "Moyes has been gone about 20 minutes, we're on the bikes warming up for the first training session without him and one of the lads says: 'You know what? We've got to get on to Giggsy. We've got to get him to get us our f***ing chips back." Moyes was sacked because he made too many changes in a short space of time, argues Ferdinand, who it must be noted, was marginalised by Moyes. The decision to bin well-liked first team coach Mike Phelan along with the pomme frites added to the recipe for disaster - as did the "mixed messages and lack of clarity" when it came to tactics. "Moyes missed a lot of the subtleties about players and the culture of United," writes Ferdinand. He lacked the appreciation of what it meant to be part of United. And he was often naive, says the former England international, recalling a "bizarre" practice session held on a Munich public training pitch in front of cameras ahead of a Champions League game at Bayern. "It was amateurish. I mean, why not just send Bayern a DVD," he groans. Moyes then humiliated Ferdinand, informing him he would not be playing against the Germans "in front of everybody". "It was probably the worst moment I had at United. It killed me. Inside I wanted to scream and grab him," Ferdinand writes. Then, when it came to delivering instructions for the match, Ferdinand claims Moyes confused the players by saying they could employ "three formations" depending on "how Bayern played". You detect glee in Ferdinand's words when he continues: "We lost and 13 days later Moyes was sacked." Moyes accepted he might have taken "a slightly different approach" to management at Old Trafford, admitting what proved reasonably successful at Everton did not go down as well at United. He insisted last month that he was not "given time to succeed or fail". Whatever his shortcomings, he was doomed to fail because he took up the poisoned chalice of being the man who replaced Ferguson. To his credit he has since been magnanimous, maintaining a respectful and dignified tone, and praising the players for their work ethic, saying "they were fantastic". Ferdinand shows no mutual respect in his kiss-and-tell, however. In trashing Moyes' reputation, the player reveals the level of denial over the inevitable wane of his career. He comes across as blaming Moyes for nature's annoying habit of us growing old. Throughout you sense Ferdinand and his fellow United players acted pettily, suspicious of any change conceived by Ferguson's replacement - especially those by a moribund, trophy-less manager from Everton. As Ferdinand reveals, they all lacked respect for Moyes from the off. The Scot was on a hiding to nothing, his authority undermined from day one. A takeaway from Ferdinand's bean-spilling is perhaps a cautionary tale for the current crop of EPL coaches and managers in other industries; the smallest side-dish controversy can be magnified and seed unrest among a silent, brooding shop floor. Napoleon Bonaparte, another of history's overreaching leaders, once said an army marches on its stomach. So do football teams.

.css-1c6uqr6{color:inherit;font-weight:inherit;font-size:inherit;font-family:inherit;line-height:inherit;overflow-wrap:break-word;}Loss of dressing room tradition in serving of humble pomme frites was the beginning of the end for Scot in United players' eyes

Loss of dressing room tradition in serving of humble pomme frites was the beginning of the end for Scot in United players' eyes