By Isaac Mortey
We are slowly moving away from managers and replacing them with coaches. Once, a manager was the heartbeat of a football club. He shaped its identity, guided its philosophy, influenced which players were bought and sold, and built something meant to last. Today, that power is being stripped away. Coaches are now increasingly confined to the training ground and match days. They have little or no say in transfers or the long term direction of the club.
The modern model is shifting from manager-led projects to boardroom-driven projects. The board makes decisions, including the sporting directors, technical Directors, Head of Recruitment, and Data departments. The coach is expected to simply “make it work” with the players he is given, often regardless of whether they fit his system, vision, or way of playing.
In this new model, patience disappears. Club identity fades. Coaches are judged instantly, sacked quickly, and replaced easily. The art of building a team over several seasons is sacrificed for short-term results.
We may never see figures like José Mourinho, Arsène Wenger, Sir Alex Ferguson, Carlo Ancelotti, Claudio Ranieri, Jupp Heynckes, or Rafael Benítez again. These were not just tacticians; they were architects who built clubs, custodians who protected tradition, and authors who created lasting football identities.
As this trend continues, club culture risks being overlooked. History becomes less important. Identity becomes something that can be changed or altered.
Football needs rescuing, not from change, but from losing its soul. The game must protect the role of the manager as more than just a coach. If we do not, we risk turning football into a soulless industry where identity is only temporary and legacy no longer matters.
Chelsea is a clear example. The club was always known for winning big trophies and appointing managers with strong, clear football identities. Success was demanded right away. Today, that culture has been replaced by a long-term “project.” This project is built around young players, many of whom are not yet ready to compete for the biggest honors. Coaches are now selected not for their own identity, but for how well they fit into a plan that was designed before they arrived.
The manager no longer shapes the project; he must adapt to it.
The same fate now threatens Manchester United. This is a club that was built by Sir Alex Ferguson and David Gil’s authority, vision, and total control over football matters. It is slowly losing its identity. We see signs of this when Ruben Amorim publicly calls for players to fit his ideas, while the club’s leaders follow a different plan, one that often clashes with what the manager needs. The result is confusion, compromise, and a steady wearing away of what once made United feel like United.
Football, in its constant evolution, now needs rescuing. It needs rescuing not from progress, but from losing its soul. The game must consciously protect and preserve the role of the manager as more than a coach. It must find a balance between modern structure and vision, between data and managerial ideas, between business strategy and human legacy. If we fail, we risk finishing football’s transformation into a soulless industry. In that industry, identity is temporary, legacy is an irrelevant idea, and the architects are gone.
The game’s soul was built by managers; we cannot afford to coach it out of existence.
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