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Itbecame clear Ruben Amorim was able to withstand losing against Grimsby. He weathered a decisive continental showpiece against one of the worst Spurs sides in living memory. He withstood losing at home against West Ham and Wolves, finishing 15th, an unwavering system, squandering some of the club’s best homegrown talent, a poor winning percentage, calling the squad the worst the club has ever seen. Yet, there existed a single opponent against whom Ruben Amorim would not be allowed to dance. You come at Jason Wilcox, and you best not miss.

Unfortunately, similar to numerous top-flight defender during Blackburn Rovers' championship 1994-95 season, the coach came at the executive and seems to have missed. Even the most distracted of readers will notice the paradoxical situation: a coach who often railed at his players for failing in one-on-one duels crumbling in the face of the white heat and animal charisma of one of England's top division's most feared sporting directors.

And frankly, this entire bruising episode seems to paint the director in a whole new light. It may have been easy, given his brief stint in a similar role at Southampton, to view Jason Wilcox as merely a drudge within the club's structure: a man who owed his position largely to his close relationship with his former boss a fellow executive rather than any demonstrable skill. How wrong everyone was. In brilliantly outsmarting United’s feted head coach, as he outmanoeuvred the unfortunate a previous executive earlier, he has proved himself as one of football's true generals: a strategic mind that United’s mid-table rivals are now rightly wary.

A Tactical Conflict Over System and Philosophy

For example, this was the director , after being involved in the hierarchy that hired the rigid 3-4-3 advocate the coach originally, played a key role in attempting to convince Amorim to ditch his beloved 3-4-3. Unsurprisingly, these entreaties met a certain resistance. But perhaps such directives carry more weight when issued from the mouth with the impeccable soccer background he possesses, a veteran of three England caps and a contributor to a championship team decades past.

Maybe eventually 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 compensation reduction clause in place. But Jason Wilcox seldom speaks publicly, and with very good reason. The true intellectuals of this sport – individuals such as him – function at a level exceeding our mundane comprehension. Were he to speak, probably all we would hear would be ultrasonic blips and four-dimensional whirring. Desiring an explanation is not the same as being ready to comprehend it.

The Ultimate Power Behind Command

Naturally, by focusing our attention on Jason Wilcox we overlook the real power behind the club's current leadership. The director is, after all, simply carrying out the commands of his superior Sir Jim Ratcliffe, who privately has made very clear his preference for a four-man defense. It is reported, the owner has also suggested playing Bryan Mbeumo as a right wing-back. The owner is eager for the club to embrace data science and metrics. Per reports, during a leadership summit early in his minority ownership, he declared that United’s style to football “will be decided in this room”.

Ultimately, Sir Jim is an expert in these intricate footballing stuff, 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, fundamentally better. Whom else would you trust to manage an enlightened programme of austerity, the construction of a modern arena that appears similar to an abstract design, the signing of a new striker?

The Modern Football Hierarchy: Directors Above Managers

This is a trend we are increasingly seeing at the elite levels of the game. For decades, clubs foolishly delegated big footballing decisions to low-level employees such as coaches, talent spotters – players themselves. Perhaps it was once possible for an up-and-coming, innovative manager with ideas and energy to go into a club and see their vision through to completion. Yet how many companies have these guys established? How many large-scale layoffs have they managed? Better by far to place the real power where it rightly belongs: the leadership tier, the casually dressed executives, the individuals with the jaw-dropping LinkedIn profiles. It is wiser to decide the tactics in the boardroom and appoint a coach who will adapt their offering to suit. If managers were formerly chefs, they are now more akin to Deliveroo drivers: not really creating the food, but still ultimately answerable should it be delivered cold or leaks out of the box.

In the meantime, a coach's role has become less about defining the vision and more about marketing it: the front-facing representative of the operation, the visible figurehead for a club they have minimal power to influence. Enzo Maresca leads a team of literal children into the Champions League and secures domestic cups, and essentially is dismissed for speaking out. A manager at Celtic sees his reputation ruined whereas those individuals who hired him continue to make errors another day.

A Neoliberal Football: Accountability for the Coaches

And possibly in a small way this is simply corporate governance in action: the rise of a privileged elite who are infallible, whose choices remain untouchable, whose errors can invariably be sacked away without justification. Hire the system coach only to dismiss him for playing too much that system. Bring in the project manager and then bin them for taking excessive time. And most importantly be grateful; for the incremental increases in ticket costs, for the latest summer signings, for the reality that the adults – however well qualified – remain in control.