Manchester United’s psychodrama is vaguely ridiculous.
Sometimes, when I see how some fans react to a manager, especially fans of one of the rich, self-obsessed clubs, I am amazed at the emotional commitment that some have and I want to say: ‘He’s not your father, who cares? you say that?’ . But people do, and take it all way too personally.
Erik ten Hag eventually had to deal with people who openly mocked him. Then there is the subsequent fuss and whining about Ruud van Nistelrooy. Maybe it’s instead of having fulfilling personal relationships. It’s all hardly hysterical.
Hire an elite manager, the job is done. As if life or football is that easy. But of course the elite manager, like everyone else, will lose and fail to win trophies, in other words he will not be a ‘winner’ and will not be this vague concept of ‘elite’.
For example, you can say that Carlo Ancelotti is elite considering the team he manages dearly, but he didn’t look that elite at Everton, did he? He may have won titles, but he has had many more Champions League eliminations, not winning competitions and also losing the Bayern dressing room. Elite? Pointless.
Context is important. You don’t judge people who do the same work in the same circumstances and with the same resources. They are all different. The trope of “bring in an elite manager” turns out to be wrong more often than it isn’t. It’s like thinking that if you were born inheriting money, you became rich through your own skills (which people always do). It is like a teacher getting a failing child to pass his or her exams; that is a greater achievement than helping someone who performs well succeed. Context. It matters.
The charismatic manager mainly attracts the pathetic and sad groveling and sniveling fans. Jürgen Klopp was portrayed as an embodiment of all that is good and as such absolutely deified, but then took Red Bull’s money. After all, humans are not perfect. Can you believe that? Father, what have you done? Look, it’s just a guy taking a job. Did you think he would spend the rest of his life floating above the crowd like a footballing angel from Bergen, inviolable and perfect? If you thought that, you were fooling yourself.
This paternal God complex is remarkably immature and leads to “he abandoned us” hysteria. He’s just a guy. Do not worship or detest him. It’s inappropriate. Yet these strange positions are taken for granted, as if they were normal, when it comes to football. People for whom the manager becomes a figure of pity, hate or love must try to fill a hole in their lives.
Some managers even lean into this perversion, professing their undying love for a club they will manage for 5% of their career. It’s usually a fake emotion with a kiss on the badge. They play on this kind of attitude. If you have convinced yourself that the manager, who has been in place for a few months or a few years, cares about you as much as you do, then you have become too absorbed in the club and you have lost perspective, something that social media and even the clubs themselves encourage this. It’s strange.
In Scotland there appears to be 42 managers, all of whom rotate around the clubs every 18 months or so, eventually taking on jobs at each club, such as recycling managers. It is a travesty to align yourself with the man as some kind of role model, virtuous and saintly, smart or elite. So generally no one does that. Derek will be gone soon enough and replaced by Dougie, who will last a few months and be replaced by Scott.
And this is probably the same in the English lower leagues, but not in the bizarre Premier League, which seems to actively encourage such over-emotional involvement. Watching the recent adoration of Jose Mourinho, as if the reporters were in love with the man as a teenager. Besides the fact that it is something deeply pathetic and certainly only exists for journalists in a stinking, closed environment with no broader perspective, it is all part of this hysterical attitude towards managers, as if they are a mixture of rock star, comedian and priest. Gain a sense of perspective.
I mean, have you seen how some people treat Mikel Arteta? Somewhere between an angel and a devil. Pep Guardiola, so slavishly adored by so many, so often, regularly seems quite baffled by it all, sporting a skeptical expression that seems to say, ‘Why are you behaving like you’re a child?’ when a reporter or journalist crawls over them.
While each of us deserves civility and respect, I don’t understand the fat smarm or the cynic. It shouldn’t take courage to interview a manager. No courage at all. He is not Vladimir Putin who wants you killed. He is middle-aged, often someone whose English is a second language. The worst thing he’s going to do is yell at you. It’s not school. Oooh Sean Dyche swore at me. Get over yourself. It’s all part of this excessive culture of respect that has become a standard for some reason. You don’t have to grovel or confront. There is another way.
I understand that clubs mean a lot to the fans, and that the manager is important, but all I hope for is that he is treated like a normal millionaire person, not somehow better or worse than anyone else, more special , with special powers or more hopeless.
If you like or dislike the manager, fine, but don’t expect him to be a surrogate father, provide ideals to live by or be some kind of secular pastor. They’re just the newest waistcoat on the block; there will be many more and eventually they will all fail. Deal with it. They didn’t abandon you or betray your family with some antics that need to be dissected, approved or disapproved, as we see with so many.
Managers are only criticized for writing things down, holding an umbrella or not showing enough emotion, that’s how stupid these attitudes are. It leads to short-term thinking. This is all something that is not being taken seriously, way too seriously. It’s as if the manager is a combination of mathematician, scientist and moral philosopher, but that’s not the case. In most cases he’s just a glorified game teacher. Stop kneeling before them.
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