IN nine months, Terry Butcher encountered more Australian mysteries than Skippy the Bush Kangaroo. During a season of unimaginable drama and intrigue at Sydney FC, the former Motherwell manager tended to as many emergencies as the Flying Doctors and participated in enough soap-opera antics to warrant a guest spot in Neighbours.

Replacing Pierre Littbarski at one of the elite franchises of the developing Australian A-League was embraced as a once in a lifetime opportunity. Given the internal and external distractions that became part of his daily routine, Butcher is relieved to have survived with sanity and reputation intact after the arduous adventure.

His season with Sydney FC includes Hollywood-sized egos and Coca-Coca League One standards. A bitter fall-out with Anthony LaPaglia, club shareholder, actor in Without a Trace and all-round antagonist, did little to enhance Butcher's wider appeal among an audience ambivalent to his pedigree as the iron-willed warhorse of English football. To some, he was simply another pom stuck at the wrong end of the planet in Ashes season.

Mulling over his experiences with a comforting mug of coffee (more of which later), Butcher declared himself satisfied with the achievement of taking Sydney to the finals, scraping into the qualifying quartet on goal difference. This, having endured regular adverse publicity from LaPaglia, a public vote of no confidence from a senior player, Sasho Petrovski, and the kind of financial restraints that spawned the nickname Budget FC.

Having lost Dwight Yorke and been unable to replace him, injury and suspension contrived to leave Butcher, at his nadir, with only 13 available players and second-choice goalkeeper, Justin Pasfield, regularly forced to wear an outfield jersey for emergency use.

"They were a testing nine months but I always preferred jobs that were challenging and instructive," he said pragmatically. "I had a great rapport with the players and fans and I think we did well to achieve what we did, especially when the circumstances were largely self-inflicted. We had six players sent off in 23 games and obviously there were other events on the outside that didn't help."

The curse of football's freedom of speech, the confidentiality clause, prevents Butcher from giving full vent to his spleen, especially when a healthy percentage of the payment has yet to be received. He is evidently uneasy with the arrangement, having earned his coaching spurs as a straight talker with a combustible temperament. Suffice to say, he is not well disposed to LaPaglia, whose interference would doubtless have cost a door its hinges.

Mercifully, Butcher's wife, Rita, was a constant source of support throughout the sun-kissed chaos. "Rita was my rock," he said gratefully. "You can't help but bring your problems home and we went through a lot of stuff together. Everything was a test and day after day there was another problem but we got through them. We were docked three points for a salary infringement and still qualified for the finals. We had broken collarbones, a guy played 45 minutes all season, and sometimes we had to keep an outfield jersey ready for our goalkeeper in case we needed him.

"We were like a gypsy club and I felt like a nomad. My office was on the 18th floor of a shopping complex, we had a rented stadium and no home. I missed the teas in the office and the football banter."

To that end, Butcher and Maurice Malpas remained in regular contact, a kind of helpline for a stricken former management team. Where Butcher arrived in Sydney to an administrative shambles, Malpas struggled to eradicate his shadow at Fir Park. After losing his opening four games as Butcher's successor, they were able to soothe each other's troubles.

"It was hard leaving him behind, really weird, and we kept in touch every week," said Butcher of the friendship fostered during their coaching days under Alex Smith at Dundee United. "It must have been like the Samaritans in the early weeks when things weren't going well for either of us. We communicated through the internet a lot, too.

"Motherwell was a fantastic club for me and I am glad to see Mo is doing a great job. I am pleased he has continued the job we started. I hope we can work together again. It's ironic that I gave him a job when he was out of work and now I'm out of a job. It was hard for him but you have to be your own man."

Indeed, in order to avoid any distraction, Butcher declined an invitation by Setanta Sport to return to Fir Park as a studio guest for the recent visit of Aberdeen. He has no intention of going back for the foreseeable future. "It's not really fair on Maurice and it would feel awkward going back," Butcher explained. "I have had my time there and Maurice has done a great job."

Much has changed during Butcher's hiatus but at least he survived in Sydney longer than Paul Le Guen at Rangers. Butcher had been tenuously linked to the post vacated by Alex McLeish but he can relate to the Frenchman's ill-fated reign. "I know how he felt, I felt like Paul Le Guen myself sometimes," he said. "I can sympathise with him. I suppose outlasting him is a feather in my cap but it must have been harder for him dealing with a new culture and a new language, especially with the demands. It takes time but you don't get time at the Old Firm."

While Malpas has guided Motherwell to safety and just short of the top six, Butcher must now wait for the managerial merry-go-round to crank-up. Having repaired his reputation at Motherwell, it is doubtful if the stint in Australia will have helped his cause in the eyes of chairmen south of the border. He made the mistake of entering into management without a proper grounding, Coventry City and Sunderland buying into the heroic caricature from his playing days only to panic when results went awry. He harbours ambitions of one day returning to Ipswich Town, scene of his UEFA Cup triumph against AZ in 1981. Until then, he will ponder how much damage has been done by his season Down Under.

"It is possible people might think that but I know what I can do and what I can achieve," he said boldly. "I think it's a pretty good achievement with a squad of 17 players. The geographical problems meant that some games, like Perth or New Zealand, took four days' preparation.

"Football is only two years' old and in its infancy. They cannot get to the standards of other leagues unless they go abroad for the best coaches and the best players. There are a lot of things they can improve on. I would say some games would be League One and sometimes below that."

Football will always be peripheral to the popularity of rugby league, Aussie rules and cricket. Especially cricket, as the British bulldog discovered. "The Ashes didn't help," he said with a hearty laugh.

"England's success in one-day series came too late for me. I knew right away Australia would win comfortably, they see it as their own and they made you know about it. I'm not saying they were anti-English, but you could sense there was not the same humour that exists between the Scots and the English. At least the Barmy Army had a great time out there . . ."

Butcher has kept himself occupied with regular media work for Setanta and Radio Five Live. Ironically, he saw enough of Australia's natural beauty to consider emigrating at retirement age but has missed his home comforts.

"I didn't want to rush back to the Scottish weather so we became tourists for a month," he said. "I even tried body surfing. I would love to retire out there. I stayed by the harbour on Rose Bay. It's not Ramsay Street but it's not far off it.

I even found the Vintage Cellars, a great little place that kept me stocked up on wine. It's a very vibrant city but charming as well.

"What did I miss? Coffee. Half-caff, flat whites and all that stuff are no problem but when I asked for a normal filter coffee with a side of milk in a decent sized cup, they looked at me like I was an alien.

I would have killed for an instant. And decent newspapers. I wrote a column for the Sydney Morning Herald and they still slaughtered me."