Manchester United have long been renowned as great telly. But where, under Alex Ferguson, they were the Sopranos – aggressive, full of attitude and surprisingly sensitive – in the Post-Fergie Wilderness YearsTM they are Casualty: catastrophe is inevitable, so the fun comes in predicting its outlandish specificity. Might André Onana befriend a murderous marmoset while looking to catch a cross, or will Harry Maguire collapse under the weight of his own property portfolio? Nope! Wrong again! It’s Aaron Wan-Bissaka, distracted by passing fresh air and tripping over Luke Shaw’s cough to score an own goal with his tongue! Football as Saturday night light entertainment, bloody hell.
As such and despite some encouraging Anfield moxie, Erik ten Hag is under pressure. But before we dismiss him as out of his depth – which he may be – it’s worth assessing whether United’s predicament is really his fault. Thanks to absent owners making bad decisions for the wrong reasons, Ten Hag inherited a squad lacking quality and mentalitybut rewarded like champions. To that load has been added takeover distraction, while serious leadership would have absorbed, not aggravated, the stress of “the Mason Greenwood situation”, later compounded by “the Antony situation”.
Given neither Pep Guardiola nor Jürgen Klopp enjoyed immediate success in England and neither inherited as multifaceted a mess, it’s fair that Ten Hag – director of football and chief scout as well as manager – be given time to master a uniquely impossible job in which he’s set up to fail.
Though their own consultant advised the Glazers that the squad needed an “operation of the open heart”, surgery has been hindered by their continuing pillage and the footballing illiteracy of the bean counters facilitating it. Consequently, Maguire and Scott McTominay know Ten Hag wanted them replaced, while Wout Weghorst, Sofyan Amrabat, Jonny Evans and even Christian Eriksen arrived at United not because they were good enough, but because they were free enough.
Ten Hag has also spent heavily on players he likes, which last season worked fairly well: Lisandro Martínez was magnificent, Tyrell Malacia useful and Casemiro worth his contract as a loss leader – the best player available knowing the right player, Kobbie Mainoo, would soon be ready to replace him. Antony, however, though always prepared to take the ball and bereft of decent full-back support, looks an error – ostensibly Ten Hag’s, but a competent structure would surely have protected the manager from himself.
It’s too soon to evaluate more recent activity, but while Mason Mount is a good player United’s midfield needed a physical box-to-boxer able to take possession under pressure, not a less good Bruno Fernandes. Rasmus Højlund, on the other hand, exactly the type of player the team need, is not yet the player the team need; Ten Hag has not been permitted an alternative.
He was, though, allowed to sign a keeper other than the “masterful” Onana, whose nervous start is vaguely understandable, but with errors manifesting an impetuous, scruffy style in which it’s hard to believe. And as confidence has drained, his playmaking has vanished – though this also reflects the rotating cast of inadequacies stationed in front of him thanks to United’s horrendous injury list. Whether Ten Hag is responsible for that, who knows? But the proliferation of non-contact knacks raises questions, and though a ridiculous pre-season motivated by money rather than football was foisted upon him, he compounded the situation by sharing game time around the squad, leaving his mainstays unfit when the campaign began with no new partnerships or style brewing.
United’s injuries have come at a particularly sensitive point in the team’s development, aborting the planned progression. Højlund arrived hurt, so is catching up and settling in while befuddled teammates ponder this strange new centre-forward species; Mainoo, his role the system’s most important, is acclimatising after injury; of his potential minders, Casemiro, Eriksen and Mount are unfit, and Amrabat arrived injured having missed pre-season; Onana wants to build from the back, but the absences of Martínez, Mainoo and Shaw have made that impossible.
Recently, critics have argued that what Ten Hag wants from his team is not clear, but 17 months of performances, press conferences and interviews have said plenty. What’s less obvious is whether his players can do what he’s askingthem to do, and whether what he’s asking them to do is what they should be doing. Ten Hag likes to dominate territory and ball but picks McTominay when he already has Fernandes; he wants to defend high but assiduously ignored Raphaël Varane, his only fit centre-back who can run and is good; and far too often, the midfield empties or an underlapping full-back wastes possession, leaving inverted attackers loitering on the touchline and a striker running the youth out of his soul.
For this, the players bear much responsibility. Through their laxity and imprecision they have inflicted upon themselves a profound collective PTSD, the nous so pitifully absent on the pitch supreme when it comes to outlasting managers. The Guardian understands that one recent recruit was extremely unimpressed by the mentality of some in the dressing room and maybe it is contagious, because when United met Real Madrid in pre-season, Carlo Ancelotti patted the tummy of arch-professional Casemiro to honour how magnificently he had summered.
Just as it is easy to exculpate Ten Hag – his players are responsible for their own professionalism – so it is to question him: it is his job to inspire them. Last season, an aggressive approach helped compensate for lacking charisma but by responding to adversity with reactivity, having previously told his team that they could, he is now tacitly advising them they can’t.
So United have kept themselves afloat via narrow victories which, achieved with inspiration and perspiration rather than sustained good play, could not fool into confidence players prone to doubt. And because selections have been safe, aimed at getting results not bringing the team on, there is little sense of building momentum or burgeoning identity.
Ten Hag’s conservatism has created what philosophers now term the McTominay Paradox, whereby the person doing most to help the collective is also the person doing most to hinder it. Despite his excellent finishing, McTominay is not the standard required and it is impossible to control midfield with him alongside Fernandes; as a consequence of his presence, Ten Hag’s “genius of the last pass” is too deep and too far away from Højlund, who is suffering. Nor is Fernandes alone, given United’s inexcusable tally of 18 goals in 17 league games.
The fix is easy and inevitable because Mainoo can be held back no longer – it is no coincidence that with Fernandes suspended, a different midfield balance saw United keep Liverpool out – and Casemiro is soon to return. So Ten Hag must be brave, breaking from the failures of the past by ceasing to indulge those responsible for them. He must ponder whether what he’s asking needs tweaking to better fit his situation, and then he must commit to whatever he decides. And given Varane has regained his spot, Martínez’s return is imminent and midweeks are now free for coaching, things should get better – but then that lad on Casualty should have been able to play badminton without impaling his neck on his racket …
