Never mind who shot JR Ewing. In the days when Dallas was the warm-up act for Match of the Day and Sportscene, the old gunslingers of British management blew their enemies away with a half-time hairdryer.
When Jock Stein, Brian Clough and Alex Ferguson ruled the roost, the language of the dressing room was English with a liberal dose of Anglo-Saxon profanities.
There was no need for a translator.
Times move on and so does football. These days a coach in the English Premier League is more likely to be called Jose or Andoni than Jock or Alex.
The age of the old-school British managerial colossus is over.
Sir Alex Ferguson during his heyday as Manchester United manager
Ferguson has lost his ambassadorial role at Old Trafford
News of Sir Furious being nudged toward the exit at Manchester United as Thomas Tuchel checked in as manager of England felt symbolic.
The king had been toppled from his throne. And a new Kaiser was riding into Blighty to run the royal standard up the flagpole.
When the Premier League kicked off in 1992-93, all but one of the 22 gaffers hailed from England, Scotland or Northern Ireland.
The sole exception was Wimbledon’s Joe Kinnear, born in Ireland before he moved to Watford at the age of eight.
As recently as August 2011, Ferguson was still one of seven Scottish managers in the English Premier League, and now they’re all gone. In the three decades since the EPL came into being, meanwhile, an Englishman has never actually won it and those asking why Eddie Howe failed to make the final FA shortlist should probably start right there.
English pundits spent the week tying themselves in knots trying to explain why they loved the idea of Spaniard Pep Guardiola taking charge on Tuesday, but loathed the idea of German Thomas Tuchel coming in on Wednesday.
As Jamie Carragher, Gary Neville and Danny Mills wrung their hands and asked why, oh why, an Englishman couldn’t do the job, the only thing missing was Stan Boardman on Sky Sports News in a pair of rolled up trousers and a knotted handkerchief on his head.
Thomas Tuchel became the England national team's first-ever German manager this week
Tuchel’s arrival almost overshadowed the news that Sir Alex had lost his role as a £2million-a-year global ambassador at Old Trafford.
Strip away the disbelief that he ever earned such vast sums for a meet-and-greet gig in the first place and the sacking of the Godfather felt like another nail in the coffin of the humble British boss.
When a job came up five years ago, the bookies would hit the F5 key and the usual list of names featuring Martin O’Neill, Sam Allardyce, Harry Redknapp, Roy Hodgson and Mark Hughes would fill the screen.
A chairman would seek the recommendation of Sir Alex and the deal was done with a nod and a wink.
These days the old boys don’t get a look in.
A new generation of Arabic and American owners scan the data charts for the name of the next thirtysomething overseas prodigy willing to hand control of the player-trading model to a sporting director or director of football.
Strip away the likes of Howe or Brendan Rodgers and the one place you never find the elite British boss now is in the technical area of a club with trophy-winning aspirations.
The best they can hope for these days is a match-day gig telling tales from the old days to well-oiled punters in a hospitality suite.
The times are a changin’ and the quest to get with the programme exposed the Hearts hierarchy to a world of grief this week.
Had Tony Bloom’s Jamestown Analytics recommended Neils Critchtoffsen from Sweden instead of Neil Critchley, an Englishman with a patchy record at Blackpool and QPR, the Tynecastle board would have been lauded for modern, progressive thinking.
By heeding the data which told them to go for a meat-and-two-veg candidate from Crewe, they stood accused of making a Hibs-type appointment. And everyone knows how they finish up.
Just recently, this column has fixated on the dearth of bright young players earning a crack at first-team football.
Hardly anyone stops to ask where all the world-class managers from England and Scotland have gone.
Or whether the two issues might be more closely related than anyone wants to admit.
By appointing Tuchel, the English FA have just acknowledged the failure of their own coach-education system. All that talk of fostering an England DNA has been tossed into a skip beside Lee Carsley.
No-one will care who sang the National Anthem and who didn’t if Tuchel does a Sarina Wiegman and leads England to glory in a major finals in 18 months’ time.
And, the minute he does, you can put the kettle on for those who marched on Wembley with pitchforks and flaming torches being the first to drape a flag of St George from a car window on the M6.
Celtic comeback for a fit Tierney is a no-brainer
The annual Kieran Tierney-to-Celtic rumour is up and running again.
And it hardly needs the deductive powers of Detective Inspector John Rebus to conclude that, this time, there might be something in it.
That Alex Valle deal in August was the giveaway. When Celtic were smashing their transfer record to sign Adam Idah and Arne Engels, a willingness to settle for a left-back on a 12-month loan was a curious anomaly.
There was no buy option. No realistic suggestion a 20-year-old under lock and key at Barcelona would be hanging around Scottish football for four or five years.
While Greg Taylor needed someone to give him a nudge, a permanent signing made more sense all round.
The usual accusations of penny-pinching and a lack of ambition ignored the more intriguing possibility. What if they already had a plan for next summer?
Tierney and Rodgers deep in conversation at Celtic Foundation's London Gala
The penny finally dropped when images appeared this week of Brendan Rodgers deep in conversation with Tierney at the Celtic Foundation’s London Gala.
Fans bored rigid by a turgid week of international football began to put two and two together. And for once they might top up to make four.
But for a serious hamstring injury suffered against Switzerland at the Euros, Tierney would have moved somewhere else by now.
To another club in England or back to Spain where he spent a successful loan spell with Real Sociedad. His misfortune has created a window of opportunity for Celtic next summer.
Listen, no Scottish club can take a £10million punt on a player who spends his life on a treatment table.
Yet, with one year left on his Arsenal contract, Tierney becomes a more realistic proposition for a club like Celtic than he would have been in August.
If he’s fit, it’s a no brainer.