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Turns out Ruben Amorim was able to withstand defeat by Grimsby. He weathered losing a crucial continental showpiece versus one of the worst Tottenham teams in living memory. He could survive home defeats to West Ham and Wolves, a lowly league position, an unwavering system, undermining some of the club’s best homegrown talent, a poor winning percentage, labeling his team the worst in Manchester United history. Yet, there existed one adversary against whom the Portuguese coach was not permitted to tango. You come at Jason Wilcox, and you best not miss.

Regrettably, like many a top-flight defender in Blackburn’s championship 1994-95 season, Amorim came at the executive and appears to have failed. The most distracted of readers will notice the paradoxical situation: a manager who frequently berated at his players for failing in one-on-one duels succumbing in the face of the white heat and animal charisma of a the Premier League’s most intimidating football executives.

And frankly, this entire painful saga seems to paint Jason Wilcox in a different perspective. It may have been tempting, based on his brief stint of experience with the Saints, to regard him as merely a functionary in the United exoskeleton: an individual who owed his position as much to his close relationship with ex-colleague a fellow executive rather than any demonstrable skill. How mistaken everyone was. By masterfully outsmarting United’s feted head coach, as he outmanoeuvred the unfortunate Dan Ashworth earlier, Jason Wilcox has demonstrated to be among football's strategic masterminds: a tactical intellect of which United’s competitors are now justifiably concerned.

A Tactical Conflict Regarding Formation and Philosophy

For example, it was Jason Wilcox , after having been part of the hierarchy that appointed the rigid 3-4-3 advocate the coach in the first place, was instrumental in trying to persuade Amorim to ditch his favored formation. Unsurprisingly, these entreaties were resisted. But perhaps these judgements hold greater authority when delivered by a man with the impeccable football pedigree he possesses, holder of international appearances and a contributor to a championship team from 31 years ago.

Perhaps in time Jason Wilcox may be persuaded to explain his thought processes publicly. Perhaps at some point he might be asked why Amorim is walking away with full compensation, with no compensation reduction clause activated. But Jason Wilcox seldom speaks in public, and with very good reason. The true intellectuals of this sport – men like Jason Wilcox – function on a plane exceeding our prosaic understanding. Were he to speak, most likely all we would hear is a series of high-frequency signals and complex calculations. Desiring an explanation is not quite the same as being ready to receive.

The Ultimate Authority In the Throne

Naturally, in training our focus on Jason Wilcox we overlook the true genius behind the modern United throne. The director is, after all, merely executing the directives of his line manager Sir Jim Ratcliffe, who privately has emphasized his preference for a back four. It is reported, the owner has also proposed playing Bryan Mbeumo in a wing-back role. Ratcliffe is keen for the club to embrace analytics and analytics. According to ESPN, during a leadership summit soon after his investment, he announced that United’s style to football “will be decided in this room”.

After all, Ratcliffe is a specialist in these intricate football matters, leveraging his background in petrochemicals and sailing. Most importantly he remains incredibly rich, and as we all know, the rich are superior: more perceptive, more wise, strategically brilliant, fundamentally better. Whom else could one trust to manage a strategic plan of austerity, the building of a new stadium that looks a lot like someone’s leftover knitting, the signing of a new striker?

A Modern Soccer Order: Directors Above Coaches

This represents a shift we are increasingly seeing at the elite levels of the game. Historically, clubs foolishly entrusted major sporting choices to low-level employees like managers, talent spotters – even footballers. Perhaps it was once feasible for an up-and-coming, innovative manager with a philosophy and drive to go into a club and see their vision supported to fruition. But how many companies have these guys set up? What number of mass redundancies have they overseen? Far preferable to invest genuine authority where it belongs: the executive class, the casually dressed executives, the individuals with impressive professional resumes. It is wiser to decide the tactics by the directors and hire a coach who will adapt their methods to suit. If managers were formerly chefs, they have become more akin to delivery personnel: not creating the food, yet ultimately answerable if it arrives cold or leaks out of the box.

Nowadays, a coach's role is increasingly not about defining the vision and more about selling it: the receptionist of the operation, the visible figurehead of an organisation they can do little to change. A coach at Chelsea takes a squad of literal children into the Champions League and secures domestic cups, and essentially gets sacked for speaking out. Wilfried Nancy finds his standing damaged whereas those individuals who appointed him live to blunder indefinitely.

The Neoliberal Football: Accountability Only for the Coaches

And perhaps on some microcosmic level this represents neoliberalism at work: the rise of a privileged overclass who are infallible, whose choices are always sacrosanct, whose mistakes can always be resolved by sacking without explanation. Appoint the system coach only to fire them for playing too much that system. Bring in the process guy and later discard him for taking excessive time. And most importantly show gratitude; for your modest season ticket price rises, for the latest player acquisitions, for the fact that the adults – however well qualified – are in charge.