I hope and pray Franco Zola makes a decent fist of it at West Ham - and that's a hard thing for this column to wish.
I've always revelled in any misfortune at the socalled Boleyn being the 'academy'. Mostly because Irons fans will tell you they play 'football' in that lofty way that makes them purists while the rest of us kick-and-rush.
They run a mile when you mention Julian Dicks.
And of course they're out of earshot before you can add Tomas Repka, and quite a few more who saw the beautiful game as three points by any means. Not that they've had many of those - show us your medals, Hammers.
Now, my disdain for the place in Green Street, E13, (was there anywhere less greener?) has been cruelly compromised by the arrival of everyone's favourite Italian.
Franco was a gem at Chelsea - and a true gentleman to boot.
When all around him was doom because of a bad result, the man dubbed 'horseface' by Dennis Wise, always had time for the press, including your favourite local paper.
He was the only footballer I ever witnessed earn a round of applause from hardened hacks when he quit Stamford Bridge in 2003, which is one of the reasons he's now a Hammer.
West Ham director Mike Lee has alluded to Zola's quality with fans and the media - and as far as that goes the Premiership title is already in the bag.
But, and it's a really big BUTI've never seen Franco chewing out players, and being all things that seem to have been the making of Sir Alex Ferguson and Phil Scolari.
I'm trying to imagine that toothy Zola grin after a dressing room row; after a bad defeat; after being turned down by the board as he asks for a new player.
If nothing else, it will be fascinating to see how the man changes from Premiership player to Premiership manager.