By The Red Devil Ranter
Farcical. That’s the only word for it. Ruben Amorim’s Manchester United record in the Premier League: 29 games, 28 points. One point per game. You don’t need Opta to tell you that’s relegation form. Fck me. And yet, somehow, it’s going to “work out” – not because of results, not because of tactics, but because too many careers *off the pitch* depend on Amorim not being the Portuguese dad catalogue model fraud he’s currently showing himself to be.
Madrid? Barça? You’re Having a Laugh
Let’s not forget Jim Ratcliffe himself, Brexit Jim, said United should be judged alongside Real Madrid and Barcelona. Right then. Can you imagine this being acceptable at Madrid? Florentino Pérez would have packed his pastel shirts into a Ryanair carry-on and booted him back to Lisbon before the Christmas lights went up. Barça? Same story.
The Midfield Disasterclass
Here’s the real kicker: we can’t win a midfield battle. Any midfield battle. None. We go into Premier League matches and look like a lower-Championship side pretending they’ve blagged their way into the league on a technicality.
Take Kobbie Mainoo. The lad started an actual Euro 2024 Final at 20 years old. A generational talent, dominating seasoned internationals. And yet, at United, he can’t get into a side that has a midfield resembling something you’d find at Preston North End. Madness.
Four Goalkeepers and a Pear Tree
Instead of a functioning midfield we’re splashing out on goalies. Not sure if this new fella’s coming in as No. 1, 2, 3, or the tea boy. You could field an entire penalty shootout squad just from the keeper’s union. Meanwhile, in midfield? Still nothing. No defensive midfielder who can actually a) run, b) pass, or, and this would be truly groundbreaking c) do both at the same bloody time. You know, the absolute bare minimum requirement for a footballer at this level.
Four No. 10s. Two strikers. One and a half left-backs. Zero proper playmaking defensive midfielders. And a partridge in a pear tree.
Unless…no, wait…it couldn’t be, could it? Is this the masterplan? Onana striding out as our new No. 6, pinging Hollywood balls while giving away pens every time someone brushes past him? Maybe that’s why we’re hoarding keepers, rotate them through midfield until one of them learns how to pass five yards under pressure.
Meanwhile in North London…
Meanwhile, Thomas Frank goes to Spurs, spends pocket change compared to Amorim, no number 10s within a 100 miles radius, and he’s got them playing with identity. Cohesion. A plan. Imagine that. Spurs with a plan, and United with none. Go figure.
The Verdict
Amorim’s record isn’t just bad it’s diabolical. At any other elite club, he’d be gone already. At United, though? The board can’t admit they’ve hired the wrong man, so they double down and tell us it’ll “work out.”
Spoiler: We wish it does, but it probably won’t. Buckle in everyone, the farce rolls on.
