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Turns out Ruben Amorim could survive a loss to lower-league opposition. Survive losing a crucial European final versus one of the worst Tottenham teams for many years. He withstood losing at home against West Ham and Wolves, a lowly league position, his rigid approach, laying waste to some of the club’s best homegrown talent, the 32% win rate, calling his team the worst the club has ever seen. But there was one adversary with whom the Portuguese coach would not be allowed to tango. You come at the sporting director, and you best not miss.

Unfortunately, like many a Premiership right-back in Blackburn’s championship 1994-95 season, the coach came at Jason Wilcox and appears to have failed. Even the most casual observer can see the paradoxical situation: a manager who often railed his squad for failing in individual battles succumbing in the face of the white heat and formidable presence of a England's top division's most intimidating sporting directors.

In truth, this whole painful saga appears to portray Jason Wilcox in a whole new light. It may have been tempting, based on his nine months in a similar role with the Saints, to view him as merely a drudge in the United exoskeleton: an individual whose appointment was due as much to his close relationship with ex-colleague Omar Berrada as any verifiable talent. How mistaken we all were. By masterfully outmanoeuvring the club's celebrated manager, just as he bested the hapless Dan Ashworth earlier, he has demonstrated as one of football's true generals: a strategic mind that United’s competitors are now justifiably concerned.

The Strategic Clash Over Formation & Philosophy

For example, this was the director , after having been part of the hierarchy that appointed the 3-4-3 fundamentalist the coach originally, played a key role in attempting to convince Amorim to ditch his beloved 3-4-3. Unsurprisingly, these pleas faced pushback. But perhaps these judgements carry more weight when issued by a man of a man the unimpeachable soccer background of Jason Wilcox, holder of international appearances and a contributor to a title-winning side decades past.

Perhaps in time Jason Wilcox may be persuaded to explain his reasoning publicly. Maybe one day he might be asked why Amorim is walking away with a full payout, with no penalty clause activated. The director speaks rarely in public, for excellent reasons. The true intellectuals in football – men like him – simply operate at a level exceeding our mundane comprehension. If he ever did speak, most likely we would perceive would be high-frequency signals and four-dimensional whirring. Wanting is not quite the same as being ready to receive.

An Ultimate Power In Command

Naturally, in training our focus on the sporting director we are obscuring the real power behind the modern United throne. Jason Wilcox is, after all, simply carrying out the commands of his line manager Sir Jim Ratcliffe, who privately has made very clear his desire for a back four. It is reported, 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, in an executive meeting early in his investment, he announced that United’s style of play “will be determined by this group”.

Ultimately, Ratcliffe is a specialist in these intricate footballing stuff, leveraging his background in industry and sailing. Most importantly he is immensely wealthy, and it is known, the wealthy are the best of us: more perceptive, more wise, more tactically astute, simply better. Who else would you trust to oversee an enlightened programme of austerity, the construction of a modern arena that looks similar to someone’s leftover knitting, the acquisition of a new striker?

The Modern Soccer Order: Executives Above Managers

This represents a shift we are increasingly seeing in top-tier of the game. Historically, clubs foolishly delegated major sporting choices to low-level employees such as coaches, talent spotters – even footballers. Maybe previously possible for an up-and-coming, innovative manager with a philosophy and drive to go into a club and see their vision through to completion. Yet how many companies have such individuals set up? What number of mass redundancies have they managed? Better by far to invest genuine authority where it belongs: the leadership tier, the open-necked shirt brigade, the individuals with the jaw-dropping professional resumes. Better by far to determine the strategy by the directors and appoint someone who can tailor their offering accordingly. If managers were once chefs, they have become more like delivery personnel: not responsible for the product, but still finally accountable if it arrives poorly or leaks out of the box.

Nowadays, a coach's role has become not about defining the vision and more about selling it: the front-facing representative on the front desk, the public face of an organisation they have minimal power to influence. A coach at Chelsea takes a squad of very young players into the Champions League and wins two medium-sized trophies, and effectively is dismissed for talking. A manager at Celtic sees his reputation ruined whereas the people who hired him live to blunder indefinitely.

The Modern Corporate Football: Accountability for the Few

And perhaps in a small way this represents neoliberalism in action: the elevation of a gilded overclass who can never be wrong, whose choices remain sacrosanct, whose mistakes can invariably be sacked away without explanation. Hire the system coach only to fire him for playing too much 3-4-3. Bring in the process guy and then bin them for requiring excessive time. And most importantly be grateful; for the incremental increases in ticket costs, for the latest player acquisitions, for the fact that the grownups – regardless of their expertise – remain in control.