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Itranspired Ruben Amorim could survive defeat by Grimsby. He weathered an important continental showpiece versus one of the worst Spurs sides in living memory. He withstood losing at home to West Ham and Wolves, a lowly league position, the tactical inflexibility, laying waste to the team's best homegrown talent, the 32% win rate, labeling the squad the poorest the club has ever seen. But there was one adversary against whom the Portuguese coach would not be allowed to tango. You come at Jason Wilcox, and you best not miss.

Regrettably, like many a top-flight defender in Blackburn’s title-winning 1994-95 season, Amorim took on Jason Wilcox and appears to have failed. Even the most casual observer can see the paradoxical situation: a coach who often railed his squad for losing individual battles succumbing when confronted by the white heat and animal charisma of one of England's top division's most intimidating football executives.

And frankly, this whole painful saga seems to paint Jason Wilcox in a whole new light. It may have been tempting, given his nine months in a similar role with the Saints, to view Jason Wilcox as merely a drudge in the United exoskeleton: an individual who owed his position as much to his close relationship with his former boss Omar Berrada as any verifiable talent. How mistaken everyone was. In brilliantly outmanoeuvring the club's celebrated manager, just as he bested the hapless Dan Ashworth before him, he has demonstrated as one of football's true generals: a tactical intellect that the club's competitors are now rightly wary.

A Strategic Clash Regarding Formation and Ideology

For example, it was the director who being involved in the leadership that hired the rigid 3-4-3 advocate the coach in the first place, was instrumental in attempting to convince Amorim to ditch his beloved 3-4-3. Naturally, these pleas met a certain resistance. But perhaps such directives hold greater authority when issued from the mouth with the impeccable soccer background he possesses, a veteran of international appearances and a role in a championship team from 31 years ago.

Maybe eventually Jason Wilcox might agree to outline his thought processes to the rest of us. Perhaps at some point questions may arise regarding why the coach is departing with full compensation, with no compensation reduction clause activated. The director seldom speaks in public, and with very good reason. The real thinkers of this sport – individuals such as Jason Wilcox – function at a level beyond our own prosaic understanding. Were he to speak, probably we would perceive is a series of ultrasonic blips and four-dimensional whirring. Desiring an explanation is not the same as being ready to comprehend it.

An Ultimate Authority Behind the Throne

But of course, in training our focus on the sporting director we are obscuring the real power behind the modern United throne. Jason Wilcox is, in reality, merely executing the commands of his superior Sir Jim Ratcliffe, who in private has made very clear his preference for a back four. According to reports, Ratcliffe 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 minority ownership, he announced that the team's approach of play “shall be decided in this room”.

After all, Ratcliffe is an expert in these intricate football matters, leveraging his previous experience in petrochemicals and yachting. Most importantly he is incredibly rich, and it is known, the wealthy are superior: more insightful, sagacious, strategically brilliant, simply better. Whom else could one trust to oversee an enlightened programme of austerity, the construction of a modern arena that looks similar to someone’s leftover knitting, the signing of Benjamin Sesko?

The Modern Soccer Hierarchy: Executives Over Managers

This is a trend we are increasingly seeing in top-tier of the game. For decades, clubs foolishly entrusted big footballing decisions to low-level employees such as coaches, talent spotters – players themselves. Maybe previously feasible for an up-and-coming, innovative manager with a philosophy and drive to go into a club and implement their plan through to completion. Yet how many companies have these guys set up? What number of mass redundancies have they overseen? Far preferable to place the real power where it rightly belongs: the leadership tier, the open-necked shirt brigade, the guys with the jaw-dropping LinkedIn profiles. It is wiser to determine the strategy in the boardroom and appoint a coach who can tailor their methods accordingly. If managers were once chefs, they are now more akin to delivery personnel: not responsible for the food, yet finally accountable should it be delivered poorly or fails of the box.

Nowadays, a coach's role has become not about crafting the philosophy and more about marketing it: the front-facing representative of the operation, the visible figurehead for a club they can do little to influence. Enzo Maresca leads a team of very young players into Europe and secures two medium-sized trophies, and essentially gets sacked for speaking out. Wilfried Nancy sees his standing damaged whereas those individuals who appointed him live to blunder another day.

A Modern Corporate Football: Accountability for the Few

And possibly on some microcosmic level this represents corporate governance in action: the elevation of a gilded overclass who are infallible, whose decisions are always untouchable, whose mistakes can invariably be resolved by sacking without explanation. Hire the 3-4-3 coach and then fire them for playing too much that system. Bring in the process guy and later discard them for requiring excessive time. And above all show gratitude; for your modest increases in ticket costs, for your new player acquisitions, for the fact that the adults – regardless of their expertise – remain in control.