For the past century, Manchester United has appeared to operate under a Great Man theory of history. Throughout this period, only Matt Busby and Alex Ferguson have successfully shaped the club, with both leaders hailing from the same stretch of Scotland—Busby from Bellshill and Ferguson from Govan—separated by only 15 miles. For other managers, the club has often served as a graveyard of reputations, a fate that now threatens Michael Carrick as he navigates the internal pressures of a fading giant. Only Matt Busby and Alex Ferguson have knocked the club into shape, in the past 100 years. Born 15 miles apart in Bellshill and Govan respectively, found the key, a pair of 20th-century Scotsmen. Otherwise, United has been a managerial dustbin, Michael Carrick the latest likely lobbed on the pile. The faded grandeur that has so often chased a United manager out the door, with glamour comes decadence. A Ferguson facsimile is a fool’s errand.
Busby and Ferguson defined the club through their own charisma, creating a pathway that successors have struggled to replicate. Carrick, an insider and long-time club figure, faces the same isolation that defined past failed tenures. Recent incidents, including public remarks from Bruno Fernandes and Lisandro Martínez that challenged Carrick’s authority, reflect a recurring pattern of decadence and disorder that has plagued the club whenever stability falters. Possessing the charisma to convince others that theirs was the path to follow, busby and Ferguson built the club around themselves. Left to sulk on the bench in club tracksuit, was classic Fergie politics, the omission of Fernandes for the Bournemouth game.
The challenges facing these managers are compounded by the shadow of their predecessors. Post-Busby and post-Ferguson eras have been defined by infighting and institutional chaos, characterized by factionalism, sentimentality, and entitlement. These elements mirror the themes captured in Michael Crick and David Smith’s 1989 book, “j’accuse,” which documented the betrayal of the club’s legend. The burden of living up to the influence of those two giants remains a primary obstacle for any successor. Favouritism, nepotism, self-interest, entitlement, complacency and sentimentality have been the betrayal of a legend, to use the title of Michael Crick’s and David Smith’s “ j’accuse ” book from 1989. Each of their defenestrations has featured an infighting that would not have been out of place in ancient Rome.
History provides numerous examples of this volatility. In December 1970, when Wilf McGuinness was dismissed, Brian Kidd famously confronted his teammates, stating, “You lousy bastards, you let him down.” The instability continued through the 1970s; Frank O’Farrell’s tenure ended following a 5-0 defeat to Crystal Palace at Selhurst Park in December 1972. His successor, Tommy Docherty, faced his own end in 1977 after a scandal involving the physiotherapist’s wife, a departure announced by club secretary Les Olive from the mansion of chairman Louis Edwards.
Subsequent managers faced varied exits: Dave Sexton was fired in 1981 despite a seven-match winning streak due to declining attendance, while Ron Atkinson marked his 1986 dismissal with a party in the office, leaving hangovers for the incoming Ferguson. The environment was often described by predecessors as stifling, with O’Farrell noting the difficulty of dealing with a “fantasy world” maintained by Busby’s circle of former players. Busby’s indulgence of George Best created further complications that managers like O’Farrell struggled to resolve. Falling attendances at “Cold Trafford” did for “Whispering Dave”. Ron Atkinson turned his November 1986 sacking into a party in the office that also housed the club sunbed. Big Ron’s parting gift was the hangovers that greeted Ferguson’s first day in charge. Ferguson’s predecessors had been intimidated by the fog of pipe smoke wafting down Old Trafford’s corridors. According to o’Farrell had needed to ask Busby if the former manager could vacate the manager’s office. “A fantasy world” is how O’Farrell described Busby’s coterie of gossipy former players who teed off with “the old man” at Davyhulme golf course. “There was no reality in the myth,” the Corkman dubbed “O’Failure”, In 1991. Docherty showed the political wiles to jettison Best in January 1974 but also shelling Bobby Charlton, Denis Law and Paddy Crerand created enemies. With whom Docherty remained for the rest of his life, was enough for a boardroom moral majority to rid themselves of their turbulent manager, falling in love with Mary Brown. Carrick, during his press conference last Friday, mentioned his chats with his former boss.
Ferguson’s own legacy remains complex. His endorsement of the 2005 Glazer takeover and his ongoing presence at matches created a double-edged sword for those who followed. While Ferguson has mostly kept his distance, instances like his critique of Ole Gunnar Solskjær’s decision to drop Cristiano Ronaldo in 2021—shared with fighter Khabib Nurmagomedov—highlighted the lingering, disruptive nature of his influence. The return of Ronaldo to the club, supported by Ferguson, served as a prime example of this back-channel power. A well-remunerated club ambassador until Sir Jim Ratcliffe cancelled a £2m annual stipen d in 2024, ferguson mostly keeps his own counsel. There have been slips. “You should always start with your best players,” Ferguson told the mixed martial arts fighter Khabib Nurmagomedov in 2021 when Ole Gunnar Solskjær had dropped Cristiano Ronaldo, loose talk escapi. The face in the crowd photographers and TV directors seek, ferguson’s successors must deal with his continued presence.
Attempts to modernize the club under the Glazers and, more recently, Sir Jim Ratcliffe’s Ineos, have often been thwarted by an internal culture of anarchy and excess. Even the hiring of high-profile managers like José Mourinho and Louis van Gaal was marked by boardroom subterfuge. Van Gaal famously discovered his replacement was being finalized while celebrating the 2016 FA Cup win. Despite recent attempts to corporatize operations, the club continues to struggle with its identity, leaving managers from David Moyes to Erik ten Hag caught in a cycle of shifting strategies and scorched-earth rhetoric that hampers long-term progress.
