The news of Paul Sturrock's sacking by Southampton yesterday will have stuck in the craw of anyone who expects justice. Sturrock had been in charge at the Premiership club for five months and precisely 13 matches, of which the team had won five and lost six under him.

Cynics are entitled to say that, if this is the time allowed in which to judge a man's ability in any job, we're all as well packing it in.

To put the swift brutality of Sturrock's fate in context: Martin O'Neill won only one of his first 13 matches in charge of Leicester City in 1996, with supporters baying for his blood, before going on to become one of the most coveted managers in Britain.

It is the harshest of fates for Sturrock, and it presents one more timely reminder of the vaporous nature of reputations in football, especially those of managers. Six months ago, having hauled Plymouth Argyle up two divisions, Sturrock had rehabilitated himself as one of the truly respected figures in British football. Today, whatever the reason for his ejection, he must feel bruised and even damaged.

It isn't just the Scottish football community that is outraged by Sturrock's treatment. It was of some comfort last night to learn that a seeming majority of Southampton's own fans were outraged at his treatment.

And yet the obvious mistake to make, looking in from the outside on Southampton's dirty business, is to decry Sturrock's sacking as illogical and senseless. For unless Rupert Lowe, Southampton's admittedly eccentric chairman, is a demented egomaniac, there will be reasons, just or otherwise, for his manager's bloody removal.

For 10 days now there has been convincing talk of Sturrock having lost the dressing-room. His fall-out with striker James Beattie seems to have become an issue of substance, and on Saturday, after Southampton's 3-2 win over Blackburn Rovers, Kevin Phillips was said to be unconvincing in his encomium to the media about how Southampton's players were 100% behind Sturrock.

While they may be unfair, it won't be for merely bloodthirsty reasons that Lowe has removed Sturrock. The Southampton chairman had obviously reached the conclusion that stewarding a Premiership club was beyond the grip of his manager.

There are two other separate issues surrounding Sturrock's removal, the first regarding his own personality, the other a factor which is germane to managers at large, which have to be considered.

Sturrock in part seems to have become a victim of his own personality. He brings intensity to his craft as a manager, which worked at St Johnstone, failed to work at Dundee United, which worked again, supremely well, at Plymouth, but which appears to have been less convincing again at Southampton.

There is no rhyme or reason to football management. I regularly cite the case of Bill Shankly, who did the rounds of clubs such as Carlisle, Grimsby, Workington and Huddersfield Town, with no great success, before Liverpool surprisingly offered him a job. Yet in Sturrock's case you can be precise about one thing: because of his personality, clubs away from the media glare seem to suit him best.

Most people who come across Sturrock have found him both highly likeable and not a little complex. Given the latter aspect, Sturrock's coaching ability, which he undoubtedly possesses, will only flourish in circumstances in which he feels totally at ease. Sir Alex Ferguson and Alex McLeish are perfect examples of men who wear suits of armour in their work. Sturrock elects not to and there is evidence that he pays for it.

Sturrock has also now fallen foul of that age-old dilemma facing up and coming managers. Do you stay where you are, where you are valued, and where you revel in success? Or do you respond to the call of ambition?

For nearly four years the reverence of Sturrock down in Plymouth had grown with every passing month. The team climbed the table, the local crowds soared - crowds of 17,000 are attendances clubs like Aberdeen, Dundee United, Hibs and Hearts would die for - and Sturrock enjoyed demi-god status.

Not only that, but his quality of life in Devon, detached from the metropolitan madness, was enchanting. If you can believe it, Sturrock even wrote a food column for a local publication, so charming was life in its rural splendour. Yet as his team continued to soar higher, inevitably, people started saying to him, 'Paul, you've got to go to a bigger club'.

When Southampton came for Sturrock, the fact is, he didn't want to leave Plymouth, but he felt he had to. In football, it is the old Guy Roux principle. Like Roux, a revered coach who has built his empire at little Auxerre over decades, you either respond to the siren calls, or you know where you truly belong and reject them.

This morning, Sturrock must be rueing the choice he made.