The managerial psychodrama of Manchester United is vaguely ridiculous.

Sometimes when I see how some fans react to a manager, especially fans of one of the rich, self-obsessed clubs, I’m amazed at the emotional involvement some harbor and I want to say “this isn’t your father, why do you care?” . But people do it and take it way too personally.

Erik ten Hag eventually suffered open mockery from people. Then there is the later work and boasting of Ruud van Nistelrooy. Perhaps it’s instead of having fulfilling personal relationships. This is all almost hysterical.

Bring in an elite manager, job done. As if life or football were that simple. But of course, the elite manager, like everyone else, will lose and fail to win trophies, in other words, he will not be “a winner” and will not be this nebulous concept of “elite “.

You could say for example that Carlo Ancelotti is elite given the team he manages at great cost, but he didn’t look so elite at Everton, did he? He may have won titles, but he had many other eliminations in the Champions League and failed to win championships and also lost the Bayern dressing room. Elite? Meaningless.

Context matters. You don’t judge people who do the same job in the same circumstances and with the same resources. They are all different. The “bring in an elite manager” trope turns out to be wrong more often than not. It’s like thinking that if you were born inheriting money, you became rich through your own skills (which people do all the time). It’s like a teacher who makes a child who fails his exams succeed; it is a greater achievement than making a high achiever succeed. Context. It’s important.

The charismatic manager particularly attracts fans who are pathetic and sad, groveling and whiny. Jurgen Klopp was described as an embodiment of all that is good and absolutely deified as such, but then he took Red Bull’s money. Humans are not perfect after all. Can you believe this? Father, what have you done? Look, he’s just a guy taking a job. Did you think he would hover above the masses, inviolable and perfect for the rest of his life, like an angel of Mons football? If you thought that, you were wrong.

This fatherly God complex is remarkably immature and leads to “he failed us” hysteria. He’s just a guy. Don’t worship him or hate him. This is inappropriate. Yet these strange attitudes are taken for granted, as if they are normal, when it comes to football. People for whom the manager becomes a figure of pity, hatred or love must try to fill a void in their lives.

Some managers even turn to this perversion, professing their undying love for a club they will manage for 5% of their career. This is usually a fake emotion of kissing the badge. They play on this type of attitude. If you are convinced that the manager, who has been in the job for a few months or a few years, cares as much as you do, then you are too absorbed in the club and have lost perspective, which social media and even the clubs themselves do. same encourage. It’s strange.

In Scotland there seem to be 42 managers and they all rotate around the clubs every 18 months or so, each eventually getting a chance at each club, such is the recycling of managers. It is a mockery to align oneself with man as some kind of role model, virtuous and holy, intelligent or elitist. So, by and large, no one does it. Derek will be gone soon enough, replaced by Dougie, who will stay for a few months and will be replaced by Scott.

And it’s probably the same in England’s lower leagues, but not in the bizarre Premier League, which seems to actively encourage such overly emotional engagement. Look the recent cult of José Mourinho, as if journalists had a teenage crush on this man. In addition to being something deeply pathetic and which surely only exists for journalists in a fetid and closed environment without a broader perspective, it is all part of this hysterical attitude towards managers, as if they were a mixture rock star, comedian and priest. Get a sense of perspective.

I mean, have you seen how some people treat Mikel Arteta? Somewhere between an angel and a devil. Pep Guardiola, so slavishly revered by so many and so often, regularly seems perplexed by it and wears a skeptical expression that seems to say “why do you behave like you’re a child?” when a reporter or journalist admires them.

Although each of us deserves courtesy and respect, I don’t understand smart-alecked or cynical people. You don’t have to have courage to interview a manager. No courage at all. It’s not Vladimir Putin who wants to kill you. He is a middle-aged man, whose second language is often English. The worst he can do is yell at you. It’s not school. Oooh Sean Dyche swore at me. Surpass yourself. It’s all part of this excessive culture of deference that, for whatever reason, has become a default. You don’t have to grovel or confront. There is another way.

I understand that the clubs mean a lot to the fans and the manager is important, but all I hope is that he is treated like a normal millionaire human, not better or worse than anyone, more special, possessing special powers or more desperate.

Whether or not you like the manager, fine, but don’t expect him to be a surrogate father, provide ideals for people to follow, or be some sort of secular vicar. These are just the latest vests in the business; there will be many more and all will ultimately fail. Deal with it. They didn’t let you down or betray your family with some antics that require dissecting, approving or disapproving, like we see with so many people.

Managers have been criticized simply for writing things down, holding an umbrella, or not showing enough emotion, that’s how stupid these attitudes are. This leads to short-termism. This all amounts to taking something too seriously that is not serious. It’s as if the manager is a combination of mathematician, scientist and moral philosopher, which is not the case. In most cases, he’s just a glorified video game professor. Stop genuflecting in front of them.