However, he was seen as a pragmatist, a strict disciplinarian, whose sides were perceived as ruthless rather than “easy on the eye”. Well, no sooner did he take charge of Brazil than he worked out a tactical system which not only suited them, but which would go on to conquer the world.

Brazil had the best players (Ronaldo, Rivaldo, Cafu, Roberto Carlos, Ronaldinho), and so he devised a system which allowed them to roam forward, by packing his midfield with defensive players.

Tactically, he’s as sharp as they come. A pragmatist who instills his sides with a fierce determination, and a man who also allows his players to play – Scolari is a winner.

Since taking the Portugal job, he’s excelled. Sure, they lost the final of the 2004 European Championships against Greece, and that blots his copybook, but no manager in the world has an entirely impeccable record. They were easily the best team of the tournament, even if they had their luck in overcoming England. The football they played was far superior to that of any other team. There were times when they ran rings round us.

Scolari is used to working with supremely gifted individuals. He gets the best out of them because of his tactical nous and man-management skills. However he doesn’t indulge in fantasy football, the type which might be great one season but which might implode the next, ala Rijkaard. His sides are awfully difficult to beat, because he puts as much emphasis on discipline and organisation as he does on allowing his ball-players to play.

Remember when he subbed Figo, and Figo threw a stop? His substitute, Postiga (of all people), scored the equalizer. Big Phil is not afraid to make a decision, nor afraid to court criticism, and willing to prick a few egos.

His brilliant, pro-active management put Sven’s into the shade. Scolari leads and inspires from the touchline – always thinking, always cajoling, never allowing his players off the hook, always driving them on. A more passionate manager you couldn’t find. He is also his own man.

He persevered with many old-timers in Germany 2006, against a backdrop of mounting criticism in Portugal. Those old-timers (such as the keeper Ricardo) delivered and Scolari’s reputation was enhanced. Remember, he’s stifled by the fact Portugal have no strikers to speak of, yet he got them to the semis where they were unlucky to lose to France. Carvalho clipped Henry who decided to dive. Later, Ronaldo was pushed and he too took a dive. One was given, the other wasn’t, hence France went through.

Scolari’s reaction after was telling. With the world watching, he wasn’t interested in ingratiating himself and adding to his mounting reputation. Instead, he showed exactly why his sides are so formidable. He chased the ref off the pitch, lambasting him. He had to be physically restrained. That spoke volumes. This guy does not like losing. He recently was punished for punching an opposing player. Great stuff. This is a guy not to be messed with. He would have killed that ref given the chance.

Now, I know not everyone will be impressed by such antics (I can hear “The Pompous & Sanctimonious Brigade” already penning their responses), but if you want a winner, airs and graces go out the window. Nice guys don’t make great managers. English football particularly is adversarial, it retains its Anglo-Saxon attributes, and a warrior’s mentality is needed. You have to passionately want to win. You have to be prepared to get your hands dirty. The likes of Sven and Rijkaard are unsuited to the cut and thrust of it. Continental football’s more up their street, where they can keep their hands clean. You have to go toe-to-toe with the likes of Fergie and O’Neill. A nasty side stands you in good stead.

Prior to the World Cup, England came calling and Scolari acted totally appropriately, illustrating why he’s held in such high regard by his players and commands so much respect. Rather than being an opportunist, he refused to court another job, particularly as it potentailly compromised his position, seeing as Portugal could be drawn against England, as eventually transpired. Contrast this to Sven’s courting of every job going while England manager.

Some may say it’s irrelevant. It’s not. Great managers are principled. They may appear to have no scruples whatsoever, because of the persona they create for public consumption, but without a moral backbone and a code of ethics by which they govern they can’t excel in their job, because their job requires fairness and honesty. That’s management for you, you have to maintain the players respect. If they view you skeptically, you’re done for. Just ask Avram Grant.

What happened during the World Cup quarter-final…? It was a master class in management. Portugal were decimated from their previous encounter with Holland. Deco suspended, Costinha suspended. Their irreplaceable playmaker and his irreplaceable shield. Their best player, Ronaldo, was far from fit with a dead leg. He’d been butchered in the previous encounter, hobbled off in the first few minutes, yet Holland were still knocked out.

England were supremely confident. Too confident. They didn’t bank on Scolari. Portugal more than matched England until Rooney’s red card, upon which Scolari (incredibly) took off their ineffectual striker and put the crocked Ronaldo up front. It was bizarre, but it showed an alert brain, and someone who’s unafraid of tough calls.

Ronaldo could hardly move, yet Scolari had limited options in terms of personnel. Whilst Sven was rendered impotent, Scolari’s management came to the fore, as he tried everything in his power to put England to the sword. He didn’t hope for it, he went about making it happen. That’s Scolari for you, and it’s an attitude that transmits itself to his team.

Typically, upon being reduced to ten men, with their backs against the wall, England showed their fighting spirit and made a game of it, playing their best football of the tournament. However, if Scolari had more options on the bench, it would have been academic.

During the shoot-out, England looked burdened by pressure, whilst Scolari’s troops were supremely confident and relished every second of it, particularly the much-maligned keeper. That’s what did for us – Scolari inspired. Looking at his bench during the shoot-out, you could see his whole squad were as a family. They were in it together.

Remember, Portual had no right to compete with Engalnd in terms of size and resources. They’re a tiny country. Yet under Scolari, they’ve come within a whisker of winning the Euros and the World Cup. To do that, Scolari has had to change their mindset, and I’ve seen him speak on the subject many times. He understands character. He understands winning. Much like Jose Mourinho did.

Upon arriving, he found Portugal had a defeatist mentality, one that needing changing. As a nation, he felt there was an inferiority complex, and it was deeply imprinted in their psyche. Now, thanks to him, they expect. And you know what, I think they’ll do it this summer, with a side he’s re-built and injected with youth.

Scolari has enormous personality, enormous charisma, and enormous backbone. Pressure doesn’t faze him. He’s strong with players, which is undoubtedly what Chelsea need with so many high-profile performers there. There’ll be no “player power” with him in charge.

Crucially, and unlike Jose, he’s of a more worldly age, and as such will be able to deal with Roman better. Jose and Roman were more or less the same age, so an ego battle was unsurprising as they were both relatively new to it all, whereas Scolari should have the “tools” to appease the owner better whilst still maintaining his authority.

Make no mistake, with Big Phil around there’ll only be one boss. Look out Ferguson.

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there was a club called Chelsea. There was even a song written about them. It was called…and I kid you not…Chelsea Chelsea.

Chelsea were the best. I don’t mean the best in the sense that they had the best name (even though they did), or the best strip (even though they did), or the best crest or location or anything like that. I mean they really were the best. How do I know…? Well, I looked at the league table.

I saw their captain lift so many shiny metal things with handles (trophies I believe they’re called) that I presumed, in my naivety, that they were rather good. I was wrong.

So bad were they in fact, so utterly horrendous, that their owner (a Russian chap well known for his frankness and approachability) imposed global superstars upon them and generally started sticking his oar in. These superstars arrived on higher wages than everyone else. Well, they were superstars, and everyone else just had to lump it.

The manager (a little known underachiever by the name of Jose) converted from his tried and tested (and ludicrously successful) 4-3-3 to a 4-4-2 with a narrow diamond in order to accommodate two such superstars.

The superstars (surprise surprise) didn’t perform, things got tetchy, a threadbare squad was further decimated by an unprecedented injury crisis, Jose had to put square pegs in round holes, yet the owner refused to sanction any signings in the window because he was short of a few bob that month. There was his wife’s alimony, and his kid’s birthday, and what with the mortgage and all the bills, well, we all know what it’s like.

Of course this then lead to speculation. I don’t mean a little speculation. I mean a lot of speculation. Chelsea were the lead story every day for six months. Wherever they played opposing fans would chant; “You’re getting sacked in the summer” – and so on.

The Chelsea job was a difficult job, made to look remarkably easy. The media did all in their power to create unrest. Expectation was huge, the pressure immense, and failure unthinkable. “Did Jose buckle?” I hear you ask. Did he let the unrest affect his players…?

Those of you asking such silly questions don’t know Jose very well I take it. He was working in intolerable circumstances, pressure not only coming from outside but within, yet amazingly his side continued competing on all four fronts right up until the season’s end, exerting every last sinew of effort, often clutching victory from the jaws of defeat, never knowing when they were beaten, and generally showing an obstinacy not seen since the days of that bloke in Big Brother who kept getting nominated but kept surviving the public vote. .

The fans loved him. They’d waited a lifetime for him. For once, they were top of the pile, a side that no longer conceded last minute goals, but scored them. A side that defied the odds rather than confirming them. A side that just had an air about them. An air never before associated with Chelsea. Previously, sides had always fancied their chances against the Blues. Not any more.

More than anything, for the first time in living memory, he made Chelsea consistent. Hitherto, Chelsea had always been able to turn on the style. It wasn’t that hard. They trounced opponents 4-0 only to follow that up with a shock cup exit to the likes of Scunthorpe. That was Chelsea. That’s what Jose had to compete with upon arriving, a deeply-ingrained culture of unpredictability, and an inferiority complex.

Chelsea were special in their own way, charming even. But they didn’t dine at the top table with blue-chip clubs. Oh no, those clubs all dressed in red. Jose changed all that. He made Chelsea predictable. And boy was it special.

As a reward, he got told to keep his trap shut (akin to asking a gorilla not to nick all the bananas), to adopt a more expansive style, and to field the Russian’s trophy signings. Inevitably, it all went a bit skew-whiff, if you can call losing two games in your last sixteen and winning the FA Cup in the process skew-whiff.

So Jose departed, and was replaced by the Russian’s mate, Billy No Mark, whom no-one had ever heard of. He was less handsome than the Russian, less charismatic (even though no-one had the foggiest what sort of person the Russian was), less successful, and less revered. Some speculated these were the very attributes which got him the job.

Billy No Mark said he was appointed to improve the playing style, omitting to mention that in his native land his sides had a reputation for being dour and boring. If it was thrills they were after, surely they should have just called in Britney Spears.

Despite being in his mid-fifties, Billy No Mark didn’t have his own coaching staff, so the club head hunted personnel from other clubs whom he had never worked with. Always a good strategy.

The club went into decline. At first, the mentality instilled in the players under Jose stood them in good stead. However, the more the season entered the business-end, where a leader of fortitude and bravery was required, someone who got going as the going got tough, the more the cracks appeared, until it all went tits up and the club even failed to make top four. Some had seen the glaringly obvious from the outset and predicted it.

What possessed the Russian…? Well, he was good at business. He was good at getting his own way. Throw money at something and it usually went the way he wished. He thought he could apply the same principles to football. He was new to the game thus neglected to realise it’s not an exact science.

Yes, his money had been pivotal, but ego got the better of him, and he failed to realise the role played by the manager, without whom the trophy cabinet would have remained bare. He wanted to impose his own ideas upon the side. He didn’t want someone with his own mind. He was used to being obeyed.

Thus he appointed his mate. His mate did as he was told, so grateful was he to be in gainful employment. There was a small matter of a UEFA Coaching Badge, but they quickly got round that little side issue. Then there was the fact he couldn’t train on the Sabbath. But that didn’t matter, seeing as he never took training anyway. In fact, as became abundantly apparent, he didn’t even do team talks, preferring instead to leave them to others.

So what exactly did he do…? Well, he picked the team, or at least wrote the team down, having been told who’s playing. Good work if you can get it. Here was a man who had neither his own methodology nor his own philosophy. Rather, he could pander to any of the Russian’s whims. I Won’t Do It My Way, I’ll Do It Your Way was his mantra. Not a mantra often heard amongst the higher echelons of coaches. Things had certainly moved on since Bill Shankley’s day.

Jose held a press conference. He loved Chelsea, the club were still in his heart. He didn’t dismiss the idea of returning one day, presumably if the brief was somewhat different than before. Was he holding out an olive branch, or just teasing…? Hard to say. All we did know with absolute certainty was he was out of work, but that would change come the summer.

At Chelsea, he had the finances to compete, he had the world’s media in his thrall, and he was centre stage, in the place to be. The world’s most popular league, and the world’s most cosmopolitan city.

And that my friends, is the end of the fable. We, as fans, have a decision to make, starting at Stamford Bridge against Derby. Some will be loathe to create further unrest in the hope that their unswerving support will aid us in our quest for glory. Others have seen enough and know full well the present incumbent’s incapable of delivering anything more than a pizza.

Sorry, but some of us have been watching football long enough to know a dud when we see one. Does chanting for The Special One harm our chances…? No more I’d venture than actually sacking him. If The Special One’s ever to return to our club, however unlikely that appears, the fans’ voices need to be heard, if only as a vote of no-confidence in the way our club is being run.

Grant’s appointment was unacceptable, even for someone who’s ploughed in as much money as Roman. As far as I’m concerned, the sooner the dissenting voices start getting louder the better. We can tell the board whom we want to replace him, even if they’ll never approach him, and even if he’ll never say ‘Yes’ anyway. It may at least lead to them appointing a proper manager, someone with credentials, rather than someone who canoodles up to the owner.

For the sake of our club, Roman Abramovich has to learn to butt out of team affairs, and leave them in the care of someone qualified. Some will say Grant deserves time. Not me. I say he didn’t deserve the job in the first place. And Jose didn’t deserve to be sacked.

So; BRING BACK THE SPECIAL ONE!

Why…? It’s perfectly simple really. I love Chelsea Football Club.