Neil Warnock exclusive: 'The worst thing about modern football? Players with big headphones'

It was not any great tactical innovation which won Neil Warnock more promotions than any other manager. Instead he got eight teams up with his ability to motivate. On a couple of occasions over lunch I am able to prompt him on a name he is struggling to remember.

“Good lad!” or “well done son!” he says, and I immediately feel ready to do whatever he wants me to. Lie down behind a wall, mark Aleksander Mitrovic, 10 laps of Dartmoor. I’ll do it gaffer.

His enthusiasm is infectious. Among the objectively un-thrilling things which excite him over the course of two hours: The big clock at Highbury, being shown how to use contact lenses, Beckenham High Street, and managing Rotherham. 

We meet in an airy restaurant overlooking Plymouth harbour, not far from his home in Cornwall. It was a recommendation from his postmistress, Warnock tells me, perhaps one of five people in the country who would still use that word. A waiter who seemingly does not recognise him, or the fact I am hoping to start an interview, engages us for longer than necessary with directionless banter. 

Warnock is a little over a month into his latest retirement. In 2008 he told this paper “three more years and I’m done”. Eight years on he was sure it was over. His wife Sharon was diagnosed with breast cancer, receiving chemotherapy at home and tiring of his hopelessness with household chores. “Rotherham had rung me that morning, asking if I could help them out until the end of the season. I said: ‘Darling, if you want me to get out your way, I’ll go there until the end of the season.’ That was that retirement ended.” 

Although he has an ‘evening with’ tour of theatres lined up for September it seems unlikely he would turn down the right job - in other words,