Tbecame clear the manager was able to withstand a loss to lower-league opposition. He weathered a decisive European final against a particularly poor Tottenham teams for many years. He withstood home defeats against domestic rivals, finishing 15th, the tactical inflexibility, laying waste to the team's most promising academy products, a poor winning percentage, calling the squad the poorest the club has ever seen. Yet, there existed a single opponent against whom Ruben Amorim was not permitted to engage. You come at the sporting director, and you best not miss.
Regrettably, like many a Premiership right-back during Blackburn Rovers' championship campaign, the coach took on Jason Wilcox and seems to have failed. Even the most distracted of readers will notice the paradoxical situation: a manager who frequently berated his squad for losing one-on-one duels crumbling in the face of the white heat and animal charisma of a England's top division's most feared sporting directors.
And frankly, this entire painful saga appears to portray Jason Wilcox in a different perspective. Perhaps it might have been easy, given his nine months in a similar role with the Saints, to regard Jason Wilcox as merely a functionary within the club's structure: a man whose appointment was due largely to his friendship with ex-colleague a fellow executive as any demonstrable skill. How wrong we all were. By masterfully outsmarting United’s feted head coach, just as he bested the hapless Dan Ashworth earlier, he has demonstrated as one of football's true generals: a strategic mind of which the club's competitors will now be rightly wary.
For example, it was the director who being involved in the leadership that hired the rigid 3-4-3 advocate the coach originally, played a key role in attempting to convince him to ditch his favored 3-4-3. Naturally, these pleas were resisted. However, these judgements carry more weight when delivered from the mouth of a man the unimpeachable football pedigree of Jason Wilcox, a veteran of international appearances and a contributor to a championship team decades past.
Maybe eventually Jason Wilcox might agree to outline his thought processes publicly. Perhaps at some point he might be asked why Amorim is walking away with full compensation, with no penalty clause in place. The director seldom speaks in public, for excellent reasons. The true intellectuals in football – individuals such as Jason Wilcox – simply operate on a plane beyond our own mundane comprehension. Were he to speak, most likely all we would hear is a series of high-frequency signals and complex calculations. Wanting is not quite equivalent to being ready to comprehend it.
Naturally, in training our focus on Jason Wilcox we overlook the true genius behind the club's current leadership. The director is, after all, simply carrying out the directives of his ultimate line manager Sir Jim Ratcliffe, who in private has made very clear his preference for a four-man defense. It is reported, Ratcliffe has also suggested playing Bryan Mbeumo in a wing-back role. The owner is eager for the club to embrace data science and analytics. Per reports, during a leadership summit soon after his investment, he announced that United’s style to football “shall be determined in this room”.
After all, Sir Jim is an expert in these intricate football matters, leveraging his background in petrochemicals and yachting. Above all he remains incredibly rich, and it is known, the rich are the best of us: more insightful, sagacious, more tactically astute, simply superior. Whom else could one trust to oversee a strategic plan of cost-cutting, the building of a modern arena that appears similar to an abstract design, the acquisition of a new striker?
This is a trend that is becoming prevalent in top-tier of the game. For decades, clubs foolishly delegated major sporting choices to subordinate staff such as coaches, talent spotters – even footballers. Maybe previously possible for an up-and-coming, visionary coach with ideas and drive to go into a club and see their vision through to completion. Yet how many businesses have these guys established? What number of mass redundancies have they managed? Better by far to place genuine authority where it rightly belongs: the executive class, the open-necked shirt brigade, the guys with the jaw-dropping LinkedIn profiles. It is wiser to decide the tactics by the directors and hire a coach who will adapt their offering accordingly. If managers were once chefs, they are now more like Deliveroo drivers: not really creating the food, yet ultimately answerable should it be delivered poorly or leaks out to meet standards.
Nowadays, their job has become less about crafting the philosophy and more about selling it: the front-facing representative of the operation, the visible figurehead of an organisation they have minimal power to change. A coach at Chelsea leads a team of very young players into Europe and secures two medium-sized trophies, and effectively gets sacked for speaking out. A manager at Celtic finds his standing damaged while the people who hired him live to blunder another day.
And perhaps in a small way this represents neoliberalism at work: the elevation of a gilded overclass who can never be wrong, whose decisions are always sacrosanct, whose errors can invariably be resolved by sacking without justification. Appoint the system coach only to fire them for playing too much that system. Hire the project manager and then discard them for requiring too long. And above all be grateful; for the incremental increases in ticket costs, for the latest summer signings, for the reality that the adults – however well qualified – remain in control.
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