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Tbecame clear Ruben Amorim was able to withstand defeat by Grimsby. He weathered a decisive European final against one of the worst Spurs sides in living memory. He could survive home defeats to domestic rivals, a lowly league position, the tactical inflexibility, squandering some of the club’s most promising homegrown talent, a poor winning percentage, calling the squad the poorest the club has ever seen. But there was one adversary against whom Ruben Amorim would not be allowed to dance. You come at Jason Wilcox, you had better succeed.

Regrettably, like many a top-flight defender in Blackburn’s championship campaign, the coach took on Jason Wilcox and seems to have failed. The most distracted of readers will notice the irony here: a coach who often railed at his players for failing in individual battles succumbing in the face of the intense pressure and formidable presence of a England's top division's most intimidating sporting directors.

In truth, this entire bruising episode seems to paint the director in a different perspective. It may have been tempting, based on his brief stint in a similar role at Southampton, to regard Jason Wilcox as little more than a functionary within the club's structure: a man who owed his position as much to his friendship with ex-colleague Omar Berrada as any demonstrable skill. How wrong we all were. By masterfully outmanoeuvring United’s feted manager, just as he bested the hapless Dan Ashworth earlier, he has proved himself to be among football's true generals: a strategic mind that United’s mid-table rivals are now justifiably concerned.

A Strategic Conflict Regarding Formation and Ideology

For example, this was Jason Wilcox , after being involved in the hierarchy that hired the 3-4-3 fundamentalist Amorim originally, was instrumental in attempting to convince him to abandon his beloved formation. Unsurprisingly, these entreaties were resisted. However, such directives carry more weight when delivered from the mouth with the unimpeachable football pedigree he possesses, a veteran of three England caps and a contributor to a title-winning side decades past.

Maybe eventually Jason Wilcox may be persuaded to explain his reasoning publicly. Perhaps at some point he might be asked why Amorim is walking away with full compensation, with no compensation reduction clause in place. But Jason Wilcox seldom speaks in public, for excellent reasons. The true intellectuals of this sport – individuals such as him – function at a level exceeding our prosaic understanding. Were he to speak, most likely we would perceive would be ultrasonic blips and complex calculations. Wanting is not equivalent to being prepared to comprehend it.

The Supreme Authority Behind the Throne

But of course, in training our focus on the sporting director we are obscuring the true genius behind the club's current leadership. Jason Wilcox is, after all, simply carrying out the commands of his ultimate line manager Sir Jim Ratcliffe, who privately has made very clear his desire for a back four. According to reports, the owner has also suggested playing Bryan Mbeumo as a right wing-back. Ratcliffe is keen for United to adopt data science and metrics. According to ESPN, during a leadership summit early in his investment, he declared that the team's approach to football “shall be decided by this group”.

After all, Sir Jim is a specialist in this technical footballing stuff, leveraging his previous experience in industry and yachting. Above all he remains incredibly rich, and it is known, the rich are the best of us: more insightful, more wise, strategically brilliant, fundamentally superior. Whom else would you trust to manage an enlightened programme of cost-cutting, the building of a new stadium that appears similar to an abstract design, the signing of Benjamin Sesko?

The Modern Soccer Hierarchy: Directors Over Managers

This represents a shift that is becoming prevalent in top-tier of the game. Historically, teams mistakenly delegated major sporting choices to subordinate staff like managers, scouts – players themselves. Perhaps it was once feasible for an up-and-coming, visionary coach with ideas and energy to go into an organization and implement their plan supported to fruition. But how many companies have such individuals established? How many mass redundancies have they managed? Far preferable to place the real power where it rightly belongs: the executive class, the open-necked shirt brigade, the guys with impressive professional resumes. It is wiser to determine the tactics by the directors and hire a coach who will adapt their methods to suit. If managers were formerly chefs, they are now more akin to Deliveroo drivers: not really creating the food, yet ultimately answerable if it arrives cold or fails to meet standards.

Nowadays, a coach's role is increasingly not about defining the vision and more about selling it: the receptionist of the operation, the visible figurehead of an organisation they can do little to change. A coach at Chelsea leads a team of very young players into the Champions League and wins two medium-sized trophies, and essentially gets sacked for talking. A manager at Celtic sees his standing damaged while those individuals who appointed him live to blunder indefinitely.

A Neoliberal Football: Responsibility for the Few

And perhaps on some microcosmic level this is simply corporate governance at work: the rise of a gilded overclass who can never be wrong, whose choices are always sacrosanct, whose errors can always be resolved by sacking without justification. Hire the system coach and then fire them for using excessively 3-4-3. Bring in the project manager and then bin them for requiring excessive time. And most importantly show gratitude; for your modest increases in ticket costs, for your new player acquisitions, for the reality that the adults – however well qualified – are in charge.