The Australian sporting landscape has been dotted with its fair share of neurotic, eccentric and lovable (if semi-certifiable) loonies - and Kevin Sheedy, Jack Gibson, Ron Barassi, Lawrie Lawrence and John Kosmina are a few that come straight to mind - but I'd hazard a guess that, in the matter of sheer originality and barminess, this wide brown land has produced no-one that comes within cooee of English soccer manager Brian Clough.

Clough made his name as an outspoken and controversial manager of Derby County, which he transformed from a Second Division rabble to First Division champions in 1972, and then Nottingham Forest which he took to the Championship in 1978 and the European Cup in 1979 and 1980, an astonishing result for a club that had won nothing of note since the FA Cup in 1959.

Clough's methods were unique. He was essentially a dictator, and not always a benevolent one. "Have you ever been punched in the stomach, young man?" he once asked a centre-forward, Nigel Jenson, in the dressing room. When the answer was no, Clough suited the action to the word, remarking, "Well, now you have."

The Damned United is a film based on David Peace's wonderful novel of the same name which traced Clough's ill-fated 44-day term as boss at Leeds United in 1974. The film has just been released in Australia and, if it is anything like as good as the book - a masterpiece of its type - it will be well worth a look.

Here is an exerpt from the book* (The Damned United, by David Peace, 350pp, Faber) which gives some idea of the erratic, expletive-strewn rants Clough was often prone to as a manager, not to mention his paranoia, obsessiveness and arrogance. It is also a glimpse at a distant age, long before players had become tycoons who drove Maseratis to training and had their own special table permanently reserved at Nobu, when coaches and managers were often unrepentant autocrats:

... Here is where League Championships are won and lost; here at Leeds Road, Huddersfield. Not White Hart Lane. Not Anfield or Highbury. Not Old Trafford in front of 50,000 crowds and television millions -

... And Derby have just lost 2-bloody-1. You look around this filthy f...ing dressing room, these filthy f...ing players, soaked to their bloody skins and covered in filthy f...ing Yorkshire mud -

And you ask Colin Boulton, ‘You want to get me the f...ing sack, do you?'

‘No, Boss,' he says.

‘Well, you f...ing will because you're a useless c... of a keeper.'

You ask Ronnie Webster, ‘You want to get me the f...ing sack, do you?'

‘No, Boss,' he says.

‘Well, you f...ing will because you're utter f...ing shite, bloody rubbish.
You ask John Robson, ‘You want to get me the sack, do you?'

‘No, Boss,' he says.

‘Well, you f...ing will because you're the worst f...ing defender I've ever seen.'

You ask Colin Todd, ‘You want to get me the f...ing sack, do you?'

‘No,' he says. ‘I don't.'

‘Well, the amount of bloody money I f...ing paid for you, I must have been bloody pissed out of my f...ing skull. You can't even keep on your f...ng feet.'

You ask McFarland, ‘You want to get me the f...ing sack, do you, Roy?'

‘No,' he says.

‘No, what?'

‘No, Boss. I don't want to get you the sack.'

‘Well, I don't f...ing believe you,' you tell him and then turn to Terry Hennessy, ‘You want to get me the f...ing sack and all, do you?'

‘No, Boss,' he says.

‘So where the bloody hell were you this afternoon? You might as well have f...ing stopped at home, use you were to me out there.'

You ask John McGovern, ‘You want to get me the f...ing sack, do you John?'

‘No, Boss.' he says.

‘Well, you remember that open goal, that bloody open goal you should have stuck that f...ing ball in?

‘Yes, Boss.'

‘Well, that looked like a deliberate miss to me, to get your manager the sack.'

‘I'm sorry, boss,' he says. ‘It wasn't.'

‘F... off,' you tell him. and turn to Archie Gemmill. ‘ You want to get me the f...ing sack and all, do you, Scotsman?'

‘No, Boss,' he says.

‘Come on, admit it,' you tell him. ‘You liked it better back in the Third Division, didn't you? Come on, admit it.'

‘No, I didn't,' he says.

You shake your head and turn to John O'Hare, and ask him the same question: ‘You want to get me the f...ing sack, do you?

‘No, Boss,' he says.

You point at Hinton and ask O'Hare, ‘You know how many centres he sent in?'

‘I'm sorry, Boss,' he says.

‘No, you're not,' you tell him. ‘Or you'd be out there now f...ing practising.'

You ask Kevin Hector, ‘You want to get me the f...ing sack, do you?'

‘No. Boss,' he says.

‘Really?' you ask him. ‘Didn't bloody look like that to me. Not when they took the lead and you had that chance - not chance - that f...ing sitter when you landed flat on your bloody arse. They'll be laughing about that in Huddersfield all f...ing season.'

You turn to Alan Hinton. You tell him, ‘You played well, Alan. Thank you.'