Ten Hag Was Never the Problem: Can’t Say Much for Amorim

 

Let’s get one thing straight: Erik ten Hag wasn’t the root of Manchester United’s woes. The Dutchman’s unceremonious exit from Old Trafford was less about his failings and more about a club desperate to pin its chaos on someone—anyone—while ignoring the festering issues that have plagued it for over a decade. Now, with Rúben Amorim stepping into the managerial spotlight, the fanbase is buzzing with cautious optimism, but I’m sitting here with a raised eyebrow. Ten Hag’s tenure, for all its flaws, was a valiant attempt to steady a sinking ship. Amorim? His arrival feels like a gamble that raises more doubts than certainties, and United’s problems run far deeper than a new face in the dugout can fix.

Picture this: Ten Hag arrived in 2022 to a club in disarray. The dressing room was a soap opera of clashing egos, the board was more interested in stock prices than squad cohesion, and the fans were split between nostalgic dreamers and keyboard warriors demanding instant glory. Yet, against the odds, Ten Hag delivered. An FA Cup in 2024, a League Cup in 2023, and a third-place finish in his first Premier League season—hardly the resume of a failure. He nurtured talents like Kobbie Mainoo, whose poise in midfield feels like a throwback to United’s golden years, and Alejandro Garnacho, a winger with the kind of flair that gets fans off their seats. Injuries ravaged his squad, yet he still pulled off cup runs and kept United competitive. The man was working miracles with a roster that often looked like it was picked by a random name generator.

But the narrative was relentless. “Ten Hag’s too rigid,” they said. “His tactics are outdated.” “He’s lost the players.” Absolute nonsense. The players lost themselves—too many coasting on big contracts, too few willing to run through walls for the badge. The board? They hung him out to dry, offering lukewarm support while leaks about his job security fueled the media circus. His win percentage in the Premier League hovered around 54%, better than most of his post-Ferguson predecessors. He brought structure, discipline, and a clear identity, even if it wasn’t always pretty. But at United, “not pretty” is a cardinal sin, and the Glazers’ trigger finger was itching.

Enter Rúben Amorim, the latest shiny object to catch the board’s eye. The 40-year-old Portuguese coach comes with a glowing CV from Sporting CP, where he masterminded two Primeira Liga titles with a slick 3-4-3 system. His teams press like a pack of wolves, move the ball with surgical precision, and play with an attacking verve that’s easy on the eye. A 71% win rate in Portugal is nothing to scoff at, and his ability to develop young talent—think Pedro Gonçalves or Viktor Gyökeres—has pundits salivating. On paper, he’s a dream hire: young, ambitious, and tactically astute. But Old Trafford isn’t a paper exercise. It’s a pressure cooker where good ideas go to die if the foundations aren’t there.

And that’s where the doubts creep in. Amorim’s system is a work of art, but it demands specific pieces—dynamic wing-backs, ball-playing centre-backs, and forwards who press relentlessly. United’s squad? It’s a mismatched jigsaw puzzle. Luke Shaw, when he’s not in the treatment room, can handle the wing-back role, but Diogo Dalot’s inconsistency is a glaring issue. The centre-back trio of Lisandro Martínez, Harry Maguire, and Matthijs de Ligt doesn’t exactly scream “build from the back” with confidence. Up top, Marcus Rashford’s work rate is a coin toss, and Rasmus Højlund, while promising, isn’t the polished pressing machine Amorim’s system craves. Bruno Fernandes, United’s talisman, is a free spirit who thrives on chaos, not the rigid structure of a 3-4-3. Can Amorim bend his philosophy to fit this squad, or will he need a transfer window—or three—to rebuild?

The bigger issue is the club itself. United’s problems aren’t tactical; they’re systemic. Recruitment has been a shambles for years—think £80 million on Antony, a winger who flatters to deceive, or the endless cycle of overpaid stars who underdeliver. The wage bill is a bloated mess, with players like Casemiro earning fortunes while jogging through matches. The Glazers’ ownership is a masterclass in neglect, prioritizing dividends over investment in infrastructure or scouting. Ten Hag was a symptom of this dysfunction, not the cause. He was tasked with herding cats while the board tossed him a frayed leash. Amorim’s walking into the same mess, and I’m not convinced his tactical wizardry can paper over the cracks.

What’s maddening is the lack of accountability upstairs. Sacking Ten Hag was the easy move, a way to appease a restless fanbase without addressing the real rot. Amorim’s appointment feels like another roll of the dice, not a calculated step forward. If he succeeds, it’ll be despite the club’s structure, not because of it. The fans will give him time—maybe a few months—before the boos start. The Premier League doesn’t care about your reputation in Lisbon; lose to Brighton or Brentford, and the knives come out. And let’s not forget the players, some of whom have seen off more managers than most clubs have had in a decade. Will they buy into Amorim’s high-octane vision, or will they do what they’ve done before—nod politely, then revert to type?

Ten Hag deserved better. He was a serious manager trying to build something lasting in a club that thrives on short-term optics. Amorim might be the next big thing, but right now, I can’t say much for him. He’s inheriting a squad that’s not built for his style, a board that’s allergic to long-term planning, and a fanbase that’s one bad result away from meltdown. United’s issues—recruitment, culture, ownership—aren’t fixed by a new manager, no matter how trendy his tactics. Until the club faces those truths, Amorim’s just another name on the managerial merry-go-round, and Old Trafford will keep spinning in circles.