Both Manchester United’s Amorim and Chelsea’s Maresca were
swiftly dismissed. One of the reasons for Maresca’s departure was his desire
for greater authority. Amorim, on the other hand, made it clear from the start
that he came to United as a “manager” rather than just a “head coach.” In the
end, both were quickly sacked.
Maresca did not demand severance compensation; he already had a
new destination lined up after changing agents and maneuvering behind the
scenes to leave voluntarily. His relationship with the club remained relatively
good, though recent poor results were undeniable. Still, considering last
year’s double trophy win, his record was not entirely disappointing.
Amorim’s downfall was more about personality and ability. In the
less competitive Portuguese league he could dominate, but in England he was out
of his depth. His results were disastrous, repeatedly breaking negative
records. He was stubborn, unwilling to adjust formations, incapable of
motivating players, and offered little in terms of tactical innovation or
team-building. Without results to back him up, his position was untenable.
Although United’s form had recently improved, beyond pressing the club for more
support, Amorim showed little progress in constructing the squad. His mental
breakdowns during matches left a damaging impression and tarnished United’s
image.
The distinction between “manager” and “head coach” reflects a
shift in leadership styles in the Premier League. Traditionally in England, the
manager controlled everything—tactics, training, style, player recruitment,
youth development, transfers. A head coach, by contrast, only leads the team on
the pitch, while the club hierarchy controls all management responsibilities.
Before foreign investment entered the league, the manager model dominated. But
since Chelsea’s Russian ownership, the head coach model has become popular.
With foreign capital now deeply entrenched, the traditional English style has
faded. Coaches at United and Chelsea who ask for more power inevitably get
sacked, because investors’ authority cannot be challenged.
No matter how capable a coach is or how good his results, once
conflict with the club arises, dismissal is inevitable. Even with trophies, if
club objectives aren’t met, the coach will be gone. In modern football, money
is the decisive factor. Without financial backing, teams cannot function.
Football is a human sport—without top players, tactics and talent mean little.
The most important factor is the investors’ financial strength. Guardiola’s
success at Manchester City would not exist without Middle Eastern backing and
massive yearly spending. Money buys players, hires coaches, and provides time;
success follows naturally.
If clubs operated entirely according to coaches’ wishes, the
glory would belong to the coach, while the risk would fall on the investors. If
results were poor despite meeting the coach’s demands, it would mean investment
failure. With the Premier League tied to huge commercial interests—and even
foreign investors using clubs for soft power—no coach can be given unlimited
authority. The head coach’s role is limited to matches, sometimes not even
deciding the lineup. Coaches are employees; investors are the true bosses.
Coaches must obey.
The traditional English style of football management is long
gone. In the past, it was about direct play, physicality, collisions, and sheer
willpower. Coaches dominated matches, and victories relied on star players.
Today, football emphasizes collective tactics, data-driven squad selection, and
systemic play. Coaches’ personal charisma matters less. With financial backing,
even ordinary coaches can succeed; without it, failure is certain. Football is
now capital-driven.
Amorim insisted he came to United as a manager, expecting
unlimited money, authority, time, and support. This was essentially a pretext
for leaving—if sacked, he would receive compensation, and the pressure would be
lifted. His failure at United does not harm his career; in fact, it raised his
profile. His breakdowns, poor results, and criticism from fans, legends, and
media ironically boosted his visibility. In today’s “attention economy,”
visibility translates into value. Under his leadership, United nearly flirted
with relegation. The club gave him considerable support, but without unlimited
investment, success was impossible. United’s local investors simply lacked the
resources to meet his demands.
Given his uncertain future, leaving early—taking inspiration
from Maresca—may have been the best option. His earlier claim that he could
resign without compensation now looks laughable. Such a coach’s downfall is not
only about ability but also character. The real issue lies in United’s poor
judgment in hiring managers over the years—not just inadequate, but outright
blind.
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