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Itranspired Ruben Amorim endured defeat by Grimsby. He weathered a decisive European final against a particularly poor Tottenham teams in living memory. He withstood home defeats to West Ham and Wolves, finishing 15th, the tactical inflexibility, undermining some of the club’s best academy products, the 32% win rate, labeling the squad the poorest the club has ever seen. Yet, there existed one adversary with whom the Portuguese coach would not be allowed to dance. You come at Jason Wilcox, and you best not miss.

Regrettably, similar to numerous top-flight defender during Blackburn Rovers' championship 1994-95 season, the coach took on the executive and seems to have missed. The most distracted of readers can see the paradoxical situation: a manager who often railed at his players for losing one-on-one duels crumbling in the face of the white heat and animal charisma of a the Premier League’s most intimidating sporting directors.

In truth, this entire bruising episode seems to paint Jason Wilcox in a different perspective. It may have been easy, given his nine months in a similar role with the Saints, to regard Jason Wilcox as merely a drudge within the club's structure: a man who owed his position largely to his close relationship with ex-colleague Omar Berrada as any demonstrable skill. How mistaken we all were. By masterfully outmanoeuvring the club's celebrated head coach, as he outmanoeuvred the unfortunate Dan Ashworth earlier, Jason Wilcox has demonstrated 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 Strategic Clash Regarding Formation & Philosophy

For example, it was the director who being involved in the leadership that hired the rigid 3-4-3 advocate the coach originally, was instrumental in trying to persuade Amorim to ditch his beloved formation. Naturally, these pleas met a certain resistance. However, these judgements hold greater authority when delivered from the mouth with the unimpeachable football pedigree of Jason Wilcox, holder of three England caps and a role in a championship team from 31 years ago.

Perhaps in time he might agree to explain his reasoning to the rest of us. Perhaps at some point questions may arise why Amorim is departing with a full payout, without any penalty clause in place. But Jason Wilcox seldom speaks publicly, for excellent reasons. The real thinkers in football – men like him – function at a level exceeding our mundane comprehension. If he ever did speak, most likely we would perceive would be ultrasonic blips and complex calculations. Desiring an explanation is not quite equivalent to being prepared to comprehend it.

An Supreme Power Behind the Throne

But of course, in training our focus on the sporting director we are obscuring the real power behind the club's current leadership. The director is, after all, simply carrying out the commands of his ultimate superior Sir Jim Ratcliffe, who privately has made very clear his preference for a back four. According to reports, the owner has also proposed playing Bryan Mbeumo as a right wing-back. Ratcliffe is keen for the club to adopt data science and analytics. Per reports, in an executive meeting soon after his investment, he declared that United’s style to football “will be decided in this room”.

After all, Ratcliffe is an expert in this technical footballing stuff, leveraging his previous experience in industry and yachting. Most importantly he is immensely wealthy, and as we all know, the rich are the best of us: more perceptive, more wise, more tactically astute, fundamentally better. Whom else would you trust to manage an enlightened programme of cost-cutting, the construction of a new stadium that appears a lot like an abstract design, the acquisition of a new striker?

A New Football Hierarchy: Directors Above Managers

This represents a shift we are increasingly seeing at the elite levels of the game. For decades, teams mistakenly entrusted major sporting choices to subordinate staff like managers, scouts – players themselves. Perhaps it was once feasible for a young, innovative manager with a philosophy and energy to go into a club and see their vision through to completion. Yet how many companies have these guys established? What number of mass redundancies have they overseen? Far preferable to place the real power where it belongs: the executive class, the open-necked shirt brigade, the guys with the jaw-dropping professional resumes. Better by far to decide the strategy by the directors and appoint someone who can tailor their methods to suit. If coaches were formerly chefs, they have become more akin to Deliveroo drivers: not really responsible for the food, but still ultimately answerable if it arrives poorly or fails of the box.

Nowadays, their job is increasingly less about defining the vision and more about marketing it: the receptionist of the operation, the visible figurehead for a club they can do little to change. A coach at Chelsea takes a squad of literal children into Europe and secures two medium-sized trophies, and essentially gets sacked for talking. A manager at Celtic sees his reputation ruined whereas the people who hired him live to blunder indefinitely.

The Neoliberal Football: Accountability for the Few

And possibly on some microcosmic level this represents neoliberalism in action: the rise of a gilded overclass who are infallible, whose decisions are always untouchable, whose mistakes can invariably be sacked away without justification. Hire the system coach and then fire them for playing too much 3-4-3. Hire the project manager and then bin him 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 grownups – regardless of their expertise – remain in control.