As the man world pauses this week, either to mourn the end of the greatest reign in football history or to declare that Alex Ferguson was never as good as Bill Shankly anyway, spare a thought for the nation's Fergie widows.
Victoria Beckham for instance. David Beckham has never been shy of declaring his love for the stone-faced Glaswegian who became his surrogate father.
It's a devotion which has survived its object's withering disdain and even having a shoe thrown at its face. Mere hours after The Announcement, Beckham again expressed his passion for the gum-chewing granite one. No one, he said, 'has had an impact like that in football, ever'. You could tell that when he said 'football', he meant 'me'.
Like so many of Sir Alex's adoring sons, Beckham will be in bits tonight and it'll be his wife, who knows deep down she can never be his dad, his gaffer or his hairdryer, who'll have to pick up the pieces.
Ditto ex-goalie Peter Schmeichel's better half, left to deal with a shattered husband who picked himself up off the floor today just long enough to tweet 'Disappointed, shocked, sad. Didn't think THAT day would be today.' As for Rio Ferdinand's spouse, I shudder for her. His twitter feed, usually a constant, happy flow, has simply gone dead.
I feel for these women, because I too am a Fergie widow. He's being brave, but I can see it in his eyes. They've gone from Jimmy Nesbitt to Samuel Beckett overnight. Tough times ahead.