AI is the scourge of the modern employment market. Applicants generate automated covering letters that tick off every requirement in a job spec, and are then interviewed by robots which provide almost instantaneous rejections.
Reluctant to be a Luddite in this mind-scrambling new world, here is my open letter to Sir Jim Ratcliffe applying to be the next United head coach – crafted with the help of ChatGPT:
To: Sir Jim Ratcliffe,
Re: The Manchester United Head Coach Vacancy (yes, that one again)
Dear Sir Jim,
Congratulations on finding yourself once again in the market for a Manchester United manager (sorry, head coach). This is now such a recurring event that it probably deserves its own Old Trafford hospitality lounge: discreet lighting, a short-term contract always on the table, and a large Red Devils exit button marked “mutual consent”.
I’m writing to offer my services. Not because I think I’m the next Sir Alex Ferguson – nobody sensible does anymore – but because I appear to be ideally suited to what the role of a modern Manchester United head coach has become.
I understand the brief. I have been watching closely. I know that I will not be the centre of gravity. I will not “set the culture”. I will not be allowed near the transfer spreadsheet except perhaps to nod solemnly at it in meetings.
Recruitment will be driven by process, profiles, succession planning and a shared footballing philosophy that can be summarised in PowerPoint but remains stubbornly resistant to implementation away to Brentford, Nottingham Forest or Leeds.
That’s OK by me. I am happy to work with whatever squad I am given, including the players that don’t quite fit the blueprint and the ones whose wages make people cough awkwardly when mentioned out loud.
Just give me the names, any names, and I’ll be sure to pick 11 of them to start the next match. Plus a few to warm the bench, of course. But if you, Sir Dave Brailsford or Jason Wilcox want to slip me the team sheet on the sly, that’s fine too.
I understand that Manchester United’s manager is now less a builder and more a caretaker. Someone trusted to keep things ticking over while the real work happens elsewhere. Someone who can be swapped out without bringing the whole project crashing down – at least in theory.
Financially, I’m extremely competitive. I am available for substantially less than the £6.5m a year that Ruben Amorim reportedly earned, and I am happy to sign a contract whose primary function appears to be facilitating a clean break in 12 to 18 months’ time. I would require only a modest payoff, retention of my club puffa jacket, and the chance to say nice things about the “direction of travel” on my way out.
Results, of course, cannot be guaranteed. Nobody in elite football offers guarantees anymore – not managers, not sporting directors, not any of the people who might insist United are “two windows away” every single summer.
What I can guarantee is resilience. I am more than willing to stand on the touchline while Old Trafford groans. I will calmly explain post-match why a 0.87 xG performance in a 0-0 draw represents “progress”.
I will shoulder responsibility for defeats that were caused by recruitment decisions made long before my arrival and tactical compromises imposed by structural realities everyone pretends not to see.
Most importantly, I am happy – eager even – to absorb sustained criticism from Gary Neville on Sky Sports. I will listen attentively as he explains that United lack identity, intensity, bravery, courage, leadership, standards, hunger, desire, and basic competence.
I will nod as he says “this isn’t good enough for Manchester United Football Club” in precisely the tone that suggests it never will be again. I will not tweet in response. I will not brief. I will simply take it, week after week, as part of the role.
Because this, Sir Jim, is what the modern head coach is really for. Across the game, boards are trying to build clubs that outlive individuals. Systems that endure. Game models that survive sackings. Recruitment strategies that don’t require a new reset every time results dip. The head coach is meant to be a plug-in component: important, visible, but ultimately replaceable.
This logic is sound. Its execution is less so. For every club that has successfully reduced dependency on a single charismatic figure, there are many more trapped in limbo, cycling through leaders who are chosen for “fit” but are constrained by structure, and judged on outcomes they only partially control. Stability is promised. Turbulence persists.
Manchester United, in particular, sits at the sharp end of this experiment. A club trying to modernise without alienating its past, to professionalise without losing authority, to impose order on an institution that has grown used to disorder. The head coach remains the most obvious pressure valve, the human shield between plan and performance.
Which is why I think I’d be a good fit. I will not demand to be bigger than the club. I will not insist on shaping everything in my image. I will execute the plan, defend it publicly, and accept the consequences when reality refuses to cooperate.
If things go well, excellent. If they don’t, I will depart gracefully, thank everyone for their support, and insist the foundations are in place for my successor. After all, that might now be the most Manchester United tradition of all.
I look forward to my AI interview.
Yours sincerely,
A Willing Fall Guy
(Short notice period, flexible severance expectations)
PS: decades ago I captained my college 2nd XI in its worst ever season of results, including one 9-0 drubbing. I would be delighted to bring the lessons learned to the Carrington mood board.
Saved by the mower blade?
While mutual loyalty reaches yet new lows in football, it appears resilient in English cricket according to recent reports.
Could it be that the 10mm of grass on the wicket in Melbourne proves salvation for everyone involved in the leadership of the men’s Test team, from captain Ben Stokes to head coach Brendon McCullum and managing director Rob Key, and on upwards to the ECB’s CEO and chair?
If so, it will be four years before we find out whether it was well placed or not. There may be two or three new Manchester United head coaches in the meantime.
Ed Warner is chair of GB Wheelchair Rugby and writes his sport column at sportinc.substack.com