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Itbecame clear the manager endured losing against lower-league opposition. He weathered a decisive continental showpiece versus one of the worst Tottenham teams in living memory. He could survive losing at home against domestic rivals, a lowly league position, the tactical inflexibility, squandering some of the club’s best homegrown talent, a poor winning percentage, labeling his team the worst the club has ever seen. But there was one adversary against whom Ruben Amorim was not permitted to dance. If you challenge the sporting director, you had better succeed.

Unfortunately, similar to numerous Premiership defender during Blackburn Rovers' title-winning 1994-95 season, the coach came at the executive and appears to have failed. Even the most distracted of readers will notice the irony here: a coach who frequently berated at his players for losing one-on-one duels crumbling when confronted by the intense pressure and formidable presence of one of England's top division's most intimidating football executives.

In truth, this whole bruising episode seems to paint Jason Wilcox in a different perspective. Perhaps it might have been easy, based on his brief stint of experience with the Saints, to regard him as little more than a functionary within the club's structure: an individual who owed his position largely to his close relationship with ex-colleague a fellow executive as any demonstrable skill. How wrong we all were. In brilliantly outmanoeuvring the club's celebrated manager, as he outmanoeuvred the hapless Dan Ashworth earlier, he has proved himself to be among the sport’s strategic masterminds: a strategic mind of which the club's mid-table rivals will now be justifiably concerned.

A Tactical Conflict Regarding Formation and Philosophy

To illustrate, it was Jason Wilcox , after having been part of the leadership that appointed the 3-4-3 fundamentalist Amorim originally, was instrumental in trying to persuade Amorim to ditch his beloved 3-4-3. Naturally, these pleas were resisted. But perhaps these judgements hold greater authority when delivered from the mouth with the impeccable football pedigree of Jason Wilcox, a veteran of three England caps and a contributor to a championship team decades past.

Perhaps in time Jason Wilcox may be persuaded to outline his thought processes to the rest of us. Perhaps at some point he might be asked regarding why the coach is departing with a full payout, with no compensation reduction clause in place. But Jason Wilcox seldom speaks publicly, for excellent reasons. The real thinkers of this sport – men like him – simply operate at a level exceeding our prosaic understanding. Were he to speak, most likely all we would hear is a series of ultrasonic blips and complex calculations. Desiring an explanation is not quite equivalent to being prepared to receive.

The Supreme Authority In the Throne

But of course, by focusing our attention on Jason Wilcox we are obscuring the true genius behind the club's current leadership. The director is, in reality, merely executing the commands of his 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 deploying the forward in a wing-back role. Ratcliffe is keen for the club to adopt data science and metrics. Per reports, in an executive meeting early in his minority ownership, he announced that United’s style of play “shall be determined in this room”.

Ultimately, Ratcliffe is an expert in these intricate football matters, drawing from his background in petrochemicals and yachting. Above all he is incredibly rich, and it is known, the wealthy are superior: more insightful, more wise, strategically brilliant, simply better. Whom else could one trust to oversee a strategic plan of austerity, the building of a new stadium that looks similar to someone’s leftover knitting, the signing of Benjamin Sesko?

The Modern Football Hierarchy: Directors Over Coaches

This is a trend that is becoming prevalent in top-tier football. Historically, teams mistakenly delegated major sporting choices to subordinate staff like managers, talent spotters – even footballers. Maybe previously possible for an up-and-coming, visionary coach with ideas and energy to join a club and implement their plan through to completion. Yet how many businesses have such individuals established? How many mass redundancies have they overseen? Better by far to place the real power where it rightly belongs: the executive class, the casually dressed executives, the individuals with the jaw-dropping professional resumes. Better by far to determine the tactics in the boardroom and hire someone who can tailor their methods to suit. If managers were formerly chefs, they are now more akin to Deliveroo drivers: not creating the product, yet finally accountable if it arrives poorly or leaks out to meet standards.

Nowadays, a coach's role has become less about crafting the philosophy and more about marketing it: the receptionist of the operation, the public face of an organisation they have minimal power to influence. Enzo Maresca takes a squad of literal children into Europe and wins domestic cups, and essentially gets sacked for talking. A manager at Celtic sees his standing damaged while the people who appointed him live to blunder indefinitely.

A Neoliberal Football: Accountability Only for the Few

And possibly in a small way this represents corporate governance at work: the elevation of a gilded overclass who are infallible, whose decisions are always sacrosanct, whose errors can invariably be sacked away without justification. Appoint the 3-4-3 coach and then fire him for playing too much that system. Hire the project manager and later bin him for taking too long. And most importantly show gratitude; for your modest season ticket price rises, for your new player acquisitions, for the fact that the grownups – however well qualified – are in charge.