Manchester United sack another manager, but the real crisis isn’t who’s hired or fired — it’s a broken role, a club stuck between eras, and a cycle that never ends.
Making Sense of Amorim’s Dismissal
The 40-year-old continued his tantrum by insinuating that the Red Devils are too hypersensitive to feedback. “If people cannot handle the Gary Nevilles and the criticisms of everything, we need to change the club,” he said. To a certain degree, he’s not wrong. The managerial (head coach?) position is not exempt from criticism, regardless of who it’s coming from. And when this is one of the most coveted jobs in football, it comes with heightened surveillance, whether who’s in charge likes it or not.
Different managers have arrived at Old Trafford with varying philosophies, personalities, and promises. Some were disciplinarians, others ideologues, many pragmatists. But all were presented as solutions to problems far beyond their control, and when things didn’t go as execs imagined, they all eventually became scapegoats. When outcomes remain consistent across wildly different appointments, the issue is no longer who is in charge, but the mess they inherit and the stern bosses they’re forced to coddle.
United’s manager is expected to do too many contradictory things at once. Win immediately, but rebuild patiently. Restore attacking football, but stabilize a fragile side. Honor the club’s history in all decision-making, but drag it into the modern game. Develop young players from the academy, but never finish outside the top four. The margin for error is microscopic, the scrutiny relentless, and the tolerance for transition almost nonexistent.
A Club Trapped Between Eras
In theory, this is the biggest job in English football. In practice, it has become one of the least forgiving. The manager is the public face of every failure, even when many of those failures are structural, cultural, or institutional. Sacking them offers clarity and catharsis in the short term. Fixing the job would require self-examination, something much harder and time-consuming.
That difficulty is compounded by the fact that Man United are still trapped between eras. The club has never fully reconciled with the end of the Sir Alex Ferguson period, not emotionally and certainly not operationally. Expectations are still shaped by memories of dominance, not by the realities of a league that has evolved faster and more coherently than United have, and furthermore, has bred talent who are frankly better and not afraid to battle against the Red Devils during a nighttime match at the Theatre of Dreams.
Every new appointment is measured, implicitly or explicitly, against a past that cannot be recreated. The football is never quite “United enough,” but it doesn’t account for the many other ways United itself has changed as an organization. The rebuild is always compared to a golden age that was built over decades, not transfer windows where players were bought as last-minute efforts to make headlines. In trying to honor that history, the club often becomes imprisoned by it.
This confusion bleeds into decision-making. Recruitment strategies change with each manager, and unjust dismissals become a catalyst for progress. Playing styles are adopted, abandoned, and then rebranded to fit what’s current, not as a measure of long-term trial-and-error. Although planning for the future is constantly discussed, it’s rarely protected when short-term pressure mounts. United oscillate between wanting to be a modern, streamlined superclub and a romantic institution rooted in tradition, without ever fully committing to either.
From a fan’s perspective, it creates a constant sense of misalignment. The club talks about patience while acting with urgency week by week. It talks about identity while changing direction every 18 months. How are fans supposed to rally behind an organization that barely lets them settle into a new normal before United acts with desperation once again?
This is where the myth of the “right appointment” does the most damage. Each sacking is followed by the same familiar ritual. Names are floated. Tactical diagrams are shared. Buzzwords take over — pressing, structure, control, identity. The next manager becomes a projection of everything we believe has been missing. He is the answer to questions the club itself hasn’t actually settled. And while they would never say it outright, supporters know the worst-kept secret: United want another Sir Alex-style figure, but lack the patience to stand by any manager once things inevitably go awry.
As fans, it’s tempting to believe that the next hire will finally get it right. This coping mechanism offers hope without forcing us to confront harder truths. But the reality is the problem isn’t that Man United keep hiring the wrong managers. It’s that they keep offering the same broken job without reassurance for the unlucky individual.
What would fixing it actually mean? It would mean defining success in realistic, modern terms. Not lowering standards, but contextualizing them. It would mean committing to a football identity before appointing its figurehead. It would mean insulating long-term planning from weekly panic. Most of all, it would mean accepting that progress may not always look dramatic, but that constant upheaval guarantees stagnation. None of this guarantees trophies. Football never does. But it offers something United have lacked for years: coherence.
Until that happens, the cycle will continue. Another manager will arrive to applause, optimism, and money spent. Another narrative will take shape. And eventually, another sacking will feel less like a decision and more like a deadline reached.
The last thing Manchester United need is another savior. Instead, they need to fix the role that keeps destroying the legacy of football’s once indomitable side. Until they do, no manager — regardless of how talented or respected — stands a chance.