Neil Humphreys: Man United put down tired old nag Mourinho
Nothing joyful about the demise of Mourinho
When the inevitable became reality, the gut reaction was a surprising one.
There was no joy or a sense of justice being served, only a tinge of sadness. A once great thoroughbred had been put down, probably for good.
There is nowhere left for Jose Mourinho, not in English football. His Manchester United sacking was swift and shocking, but not surprising.
Mourinho had become a spent force, a manager out of touch with the evolving environment around him. Anyone who takes pleasure in his blunt removal this morning might want to consider their own relationship with the sport.
There is no question that his firing was the right decision. Manchester United are an unmitigated disaster.
As mentioned in yesterday's column, it wasn't so much the loss against Liverpool, which was largely expected, but the manner of defeat.
Xherdan Shaqiri's delightful, two-goal cameo was a brutal reminder of the kind of footballer and brand of play that were once hallmarks of United.
The Red Devils were stodgy, unimaginative and unforgivably dull to watch under Mourinho. Once his famous defensive resilience eluded him, there really was no reason to persist with such a dreadful brand of negativity.
Having spent £400 million (S$700m) on 11 players, Mourinho allowed United to slip 19 points behind Liverpool with only one victory in six league games, whilst blaming everyone else for his alarming downfall.
In Paul Pogba, he fell out with an ebullient World Cup winner, turning the Frenchman into a morose misfit. In Romelu Lukaku, he turned a belligerent battering ram into a peripheral pussycat.
No one improved under Mourinho. No youngster broke through the ranks under his tutelage. No one praised him publicly for his astute tactical interventions.
There weren't any. There was just decay. He inherited a dull side from Louis van Gaal and somehow made it duller. For his abject failure, he will be rewarded with a grotesque payoff, so sympathy for the old Devil will be hard to come by.
But there is a smidgen of sympathy for the situation.
Whether it's Muhammad Ali or Michael Jordan or even Brian Clough, there's nothing particularly entertaining about watching a regressing legend take one challenge too many. The name is no longer enough to endure. Muscle memory alone can't quite compete with younger opponents. The merciless game moves on.
Nostradamus wasn't required to predict an early divorce between Mourinho and United. It was always a marriage of convenience. The club needed a branded replacement for van Gaal and the former Special One was available.
But the two Sirs - Charlton and Ferguson - should've trusted their initial instincts. Mourinho was too temperamental for Old Trafford. He had turned toxic.
Despite a final title hurrah at Chelsea in 2015, his career hasn't quite scaled those early, euphoric heights since he managed to lose the dressing room, the boardroom, most of the Bernabeu and the entire press pack at Real Madrid.
Until Real, his siege mentality was used sparingly, a motivational tool to inspire players to minor miracles (Porto, Chelsea, Inter Milan.)
After Real, his siege mentality became a way of life. He raged like a machine. He morphed into an angry parody. The whole world was against Mourinho, according to Mourinho, until he made it so with his incessant whining.
He was the architect of his own decline. He created a monster that consumed his career. Himself.
Perhaps aware of the progress being made elsewhere, by Pep Guardiola, Juergen Klopp and Mauricio Pochettino, he relied more on the growing caricature to mask his declining innovations as a coach.
He was out of ideas, so he turned up the volume instead. But the more he shouted, the less people listened.
In the end, we all tuned out. And that's sad.
There hasn't been a pantomime bogeyman like Mourinho in English football since Clough. No one made his audience cheer, boo and hiss quite like Mourinho.
After two consecutive sackings at Chelsea and United, he's unlikely to return. His brand is irredeemably tarnished.
And it's a genuine shame that an entire generation of English Premier League fans will only remember the grey, grumpy, middle-aged whiner who pointed fingers at every press conference.
Like those who grew up watching Clough's demise in the early 1990s, they know only the caricature, rather than the class act that came before.
When that witty, handsome, sparkly-eyed Special One turned up at Stamford Bridge in 2004, no one considered that he might end up a tired old nag taking on one unwinnable race too many.
When he was good, he was the very best. The trouble was when he was bad, he was downright awful. United got lumbered with the latter and they had to part ways.
But English football will never see anyone quite like Mourinho again.
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