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Transpired Ruben Amorim endured defeat by Grimsby. He weathered a decisive European final against one of the worst Spurs sides in living memory. He withstood losing at home to West Ham and Wolves, a lowly league position, the tactical inflexibility, squandering some of the club’s best academy products, the 32% win rate, labeling his team the poorest in Manchester United history. Yet, there existed a single opponent with whom Ruben Amorim was not permitted to engage. If you challenge Jason Wilcox, you had better succeed.

Regrettably, similar to numerous Premiership defender in Blackburn’s championship 1994-95 season, the coach took on Jason Wilcox and appears to have failed. Even the most casual observer will notice the irony here: a coach who frequently berated at his players for losing individual battles crumbling in the face of the white heat and formidable presence of a England's top division's most intimidating football executives.

In truth, this entire bruising episode appears to portray the director in a different perspective. It may have been easy, based on his nine months in a similar role at Southampton, to regard Jason Wilcox as little more than a functionary in the United exoskeleton: a man who owed his position largely to his friendship with ex-colleague a fellow executive rather than any demonstrable skill. How mistaken we all were. By masterfully outsmarting the club's celebrated manager, as he outmanoeuvred the unfortunate Dan Ashworth earlier, Jason Wilcox has demonstrated to be among football's true generals: a tactical intellect that the club's mid-table rivals will now be justifiably concerned.

A Strategic Clash Regarding System & Philosophy

To illustrate, it was Jason Wilcox who having been part of the hierarchy that appointed the rigid 3-4-3 advocate the coach originally, played a key role in attempting to convince him to ditch his beloved 3-4-3. Naturally, these pleas met a certain resistance. However, these judgements carry more weight when issued by a man of a man the impeccable soccer background he possesses, a veteran of international appearances and a role in a championship team from 31 years ago.

Maybe eventually Jason Wilcox may be persuaded to outline his thought processes publicly. Perhaps at some point questions may arise why Amorim is walking away with a full payout, with no compensation reduction clause activated. The director speaks rarely in public, and with very good reason. The true intellectuals in football – men like him – simply operate on a plane exceeding our mundane comprehension. Were he to speak, most likely we would perceive would be high-frequency signals and four-dimensional whirring. Desiring an explanation is not quite the same as being prepared to receive.

An Supreme Authority In the Throne

But of course, by focusing our attention on Jason Wilcox we overlook the true genius behind the modern United throne. Jason Wilcox is, in reality, simply carrying out the directives of his line manager Sir Jim Ratcliffe, who in private has emphasized his preference for a back four. According to reports, the owner has also suggested deploying the forward as a right wing-back. Ratcliffe is keen for the club to adopt analytics and metrics. According to ESPN, in an executive meeting soon after his investment, he declared that United’s style of play “will be decided in this room”.

Ultimately, Ratcliffe is a specialist in this technical footballing stuff, drawing from his previous experience in petrochemicals and sailing. Most importantly he is immensely wealthy, and as we all know, the rich are superior: more perceptive, sagacious, more tactically astute, fundamentally superior. Whom else would you trust to oversee an enlightened programme of cost-cutting, the building of a new stadium that looks similar to someone’s leftover knitting, the signing of a new striker?

A Modern Football Hierarchy: Directors Over Managers

This represents a shift that is becoming prevalent in top-tier football. Historically, clubs foolishly delegated big footballing decisions to subordinate staff like managers, scouts – players themselves. Perhaps it was once possible for an up-and-coming, visionary coach with a philosophy and drive to go into a club and implement their plan supported to fruition. Yet how many companies have such individuals set up? How many mass redundancies have they overseen? Far preferable to invest genuine authority where it rightly belongs: the executive class, the open-necked shirt brigade, the guys with the jaw-dropping LinkedIn profiles. Better by far to decide the strategy by the directors and appoint a coach who will adapt their offering to suit. If managers were formerly chefs, they are now more like Deliveroo drivers: not really creating the food, but still finally accountable should it be delivered poorly or fails of the box.

Nowadays, a coach's role has become less about defining the vision and more about marketing it: the front-facing representative on the front desk, the visible figurehead of an organisation they can do little to change. A coach at Chelsea takes a squad of very young players into Europe and secures domestic cups, and essentially is dismissed for speaking out. A manager at Celtic finds his reputation ruined whereas those individuals who appointed him live to blunder indefinitely.

A Neoliberal Football: Responsibility for the Coaches

And possibly in a small way this represents corporate governance in action: the rise of a gilded overclass who can never be wrong, whose choices remain untouchable, whose errors can invariably be sacked away without explanation. Hire the system coach only to dismiss them for using excessively that system. Hire the process guy and then discard him for taking too long. And above all show gratitude; for the incremental season ticket price rises, for the latest player acquisitions, for the reality that the adults – regardless of their expertise – are in charge.