Squeaky bum time: Theatre of Dreams out, swanky megabowl in?

Sir Jim Ratcliffe isn’t one to shy away from big projects. That’s why he wants to knock down Old Trafford, the largest stadium in British club football, and build the – even larger – largest stadium in British club football.

It’s an ambition that divides opinion, but one that has to be viewed in the wider context of football finance. The Premier League’s new Profitability and Sustainability Rules (PSR) have thrown the cat among the big-spending pigeons. Suddenly, it’s not quite enough to have a shady oligarch or entire shady country bankroll your squad’s facelift. Revenue is king. Without enough of it, clubs are presented with an unenviable fork in the road: scrimp, or suffer a points deduction.

Old Trafford doesn’t exactly have a problem with matchday revenue – its 75,000 capacity is comfortably the highest in the league – but it’s an old stadium with mounting issues. Its roof is as leaky as United’s defen- oops, that one’s been taken. Rust and wear runs through the brickwork as much as it does the United squad (that’s more like it). Missing out as a host stadium at Euro 2028 to the noisy neighbours’ Etihad stadium underlines the ageing process of the England national team’s second home – used only once since the ‘new’ Wembley opened in 2007.

Convenient then that Ratcliffe recently declared his flagship construction project as the ‘Wembley of the North’. This managed to screw up quite a few mancunian faces, with the Oldham native not quite grasping his supporters’ self-identity in opposition to the wealth-hoarding capital city. Nevertheless, the tagline for a new 90,000 seater seems to have stuck.

The justification given by Britain’s richest man is unsurprisingly about money. It would help to make up ground lost to the league’s recent renovators. Tottenham, Arsenal, West Ham and the aforementioned Man City profit from modern, well-connected, multi-purpose stadia which can host visitors like Lady Gaga and Beyonce – far more glamourous than Burnley and Luton Town. Evidence, such as Tottenham’s 600% increase in new stadium matchday revenue, highlights a trend towards maximising sales by keeping doors open in the hours before and after a game. The new generation of match-going fans have their whole day mapped out. That’s right, red devils, get in there early. It’s wall-to-wall craft beer and banh mi.

It’s not an unrealistic task either. Like rats, you’re never further than 5 meters from a United fan at any moment. So there’s no concern about filling the extra capacity. Nor would it do any harm to regenerate Trafford Park, an area where if I’m not attending a match or a gig at Victoria Warehouse, I must be lost.

But it’s worth considering what could be lost for good if the Theatre of Dreams is bulldozed. The saying “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” is probably frowned upon in architecture, but the truth is that Old Trafford continues to serve its purpose well. A leaky roof isn’t a sign of imminent collapse. Knocking the whole thing down and starting again would come with an immense cost (roughly £1.2 billion) which could otherwise be spent on improving the squad. It’s perhaps coincidence that Arsenal and Tottenham reached the Champions League final the same year their new stadiums were completed. But 2006 and 2019 marked these teams’ peak before a protracted, painstaking transition period. No more marquee signings when you need to pay off the new home.

For all their differences, I’m sure fans of Spurs and Arsenal share the sweet sorrow of latter-day White Hart Lane and Highbury. After years of routine, you take your seat at your club’s Saturday fortress for the final time. It then disappears to be replaced by a swanky mega-bowl. Despite attention to detail and a focus on acoustics, the atmosphere at Spurs felt flat during most games. Thankfully, the library comparisons had already been made with the Emirates. Although I’m now giddy with excitement at my club’s spending power, the humble quirks and mystique of White Hart Lane are still missed. Lord knows how United fans will mourn the Theatre of Dreams.

Even the most fanatical of United supporters may see their fiercest rivals as an example to follow. Like Old Trafford, Anfield is one of the remaining grand cathedrals of football. Over two rounds of redevelopment spanning ten years, its capacity kept pace with the league’s leaders, growing from 45,000 to 61,000. Kopites therefore don’t have to worry about losing what is such a core component of Liverpool’s identity and ethos.

Good for them. But for all its aches and pains, moving home is an inevitability in football as it is in life. Time swallows everything, including the steelworks of your football club’s main stand. Old Trafford’s best days are far behind us, so a new stadium for a new era makes sense – you don’t need a marketing degree to see that. Ratcliffe, in the spirit of ruthless modernisation (and self-congratulation), will choose to build. Fans are understandably sentimental folk but if they had their way, would any of the decaying stadiums of the 20th century be replaced? We’d still be sat in wooden chairs drinking Bovril.

Now, where’s my pint of Neck Oil?

Ten Hag needs a guiding principle. Is youth the answer?

Are Manchester United sleeping giants or just taking a power nap?

For now, times are tough at Old Trafford. We have here a colossal football club with barely a faint hope of a top 4 finish this season. They’re coached by a perennially stressed Erik ten Hag, who promised riches but is living hand-to-mouth, picking up just about enough wins to avoid the sack. Under new (minority) ownership, the road ahead – be that straight and smooth or winding and bumpy – is still unclear.

There’s been barely anything positive to say about the Red Devils since Sir Alex Ferguson stepped down from his throne in 2013. There have been cup triumphs and memorable victories, but the harmonious feeling of ‘we’re on the right track’ has been seldom felt for a solid decade.

That was until a United XI of a very youthful complexion turned in the club’s most convincing performance of the season in a 3-0 win against West Ham last Sunday. There came a moment, on an advertising board for a tyre company, where the wheels on a new United era got turning.

With the +3 in the bag, Ten Hag could sleep easily knowing his job status was intact for at least another week. But uninterrupted sleep wasn’t the only rare treat from the weekend. Finally, ‘hope’ was a word being bandied about the red side of Manchester. We can’t tell if this newfound optimism is naive. But it has a clear source: the joys of youth. Which, if Erik had any sense, will shape the second half of his team’s season.

So far, Erik the Red has been a different man compared to Erik of Amsterdam. The latter led Ajax to within a Lucas Moura’s hair’s breadth of the Champions League final in 2019, and lifted three consecutive Eredivise titles. The former, in year two at United, is more closed-off, exasperated and seemingly overwhelmed by all the plates he has to spin as the manager of England’s biggest football club.

There is mitigation, of course. He has had more than his fair share of man-management to do, ranging from the disquiet of Jadon Sancho to the serious legal cases involving Mason Greenwood and Anthony. His employers are the Glazer family, the target of an infinite number of rants from club legend Gary Neville (all of which are accurate). The club’s player recruitment strategy, if they even have one, has prioritised overspending on ill-fitting players. Ten Hag is a disciple of Cryuff, Van Gaal and Guardiola, but even he can’t magic up solutions to these problems. Yet it’s exactly because of his managerial pedigree that the team’s failings on the pitch have raised my eyebrows.

Ten Hag, the timid new hire, stunted his own progress last season by falsely believing that he will be judged more by his mistakes than by his initiative. The precedent was set after his team were embarrassed 4-0 by Brentford in Ten Hag’s second game in charge. Their next fixture was not quite a must-not-lose but definitely a must-not-be-thrashed versus Liverpool. Damage limitation was the order of the day, and a resolute United nicked a win against their rivals. As a one-off exercise in pragmatism this is fine. But it set the tone for the Ten Hag administration.

When United held an attacking Tottenham outfit to a 2-2 draw at Old Trafford last month, I saw nothing that pertained to a clear game plan from the home side. That is, nothing beyond praying Spurs’ high defensive line would create space for their pacey forwards to capitalise. Tottenham dominated possession but lacked bite in the absence of key attacking players. In the end, the scoreline flattered an uncreative United saved by clinical finishing from Marcus Rashford and Rasmus Hojlund.

Once an agenda-setter, Ten Hag now sets up his team purely to thwart the strengths or target the weaknesses of his opponent. That just can’t run in an Enlightenment era of football where clubs have a wealth of information and technology to drive a chosen philosophy. I’m not saying every coach has to be an ideologue – even Pep Guardiola displays ruthless pragmatism – but the most successful teams build from their own idea of how to play. Impose your vision first, then adapt it to your opponent. Even Luton Town have a distinct way of playing. It’s aerial and industrious, but it works for them.

Ten Hag’s approach this season has done both himself and his players a massive disservice. This was evidenced on Sunday when United finally took the handbrake off. Playing their natural game on the front foot, I saw things in a new light. You take a team of internationals, inject some confidence and belief, give them a framework of sound tactics, and suddenly the sum of its parts equates to its output. Makes sense, right? Even more exciting if your name is Erik and you want to be employed for another few years was that United had three fearless headline acts under the age of 21.

They say there’s beauty in the struggle. It might be the case that 2023/24 is a season of underachievement, but it may also be regarded by the football historians as a turning point for Manchester United. The season a new generation of talent found its feet. That is, after all, the main thing Ten Hag has going for him on the pitch. It runs deeper too. United’s under 18s are currently unbeatable, so there could soon be more youngsters joining Alejandro Garnacho and Kobbie Mainoo in the first team.

If Ten Hag previously lacked a guiding principle then he’s now got one staring him right in the face. He just needs to harness it. There are numerous reasons why he should champion the power of youth, too. The first reason, which glares down at him most matchdays, is Sir Alex. There’s no better example of a manager who stumbled around during the first few years of his tenure waiting for success. Then came the golden generation of all golden generations, the Class of ’92, which paved the way for a footballing dynasty.

There are other fine examples. Despite an FA Cup win, the jury was out on Mikel Arteta for at least the first two years of his time as Arsenal boss. ‘Lockdown Arsenal’ is something of an internet meme (though Arsenal Fan TV is largely culpable). But the light at the end of this tunnel was defined by the sprouting of young talent, in particular Bukayo Saka and Gabriel Martinelli.

Who could forget the pinnacle of Premier League youthfulness? That is, of course, the Aston Villa teams of 2012-14, who are statistically the team with the youngest average age in PL history. A 15th place finish in 2013 doesn’t jump out as success now, but Match of the Day’s Alan Hansen – notorious for his views on young teams – called for Paul Lambert to win the Manager of the Season award on account of the refreshing transformation of Villa under his stewardship.

My point is, even if you can’t win anything with kids, as a manager you sure can buy yourself some time. Fans are hardwired to back academy products as ‘one of their own’. Errors are easily forgiven, and outstanding performances are etched into a club’s history (see: Federico Macheda). It really is as simple as concluding: everyone’s happy to see a young lad playing well.

The second thing, which may be of greater interest to our Erik, is that investing in young players often produces results. It’s not an exact science, but fledgling footballers tend to play with more freedom. They’re keen to impress, have not yet been conditioned into playing a certain way, and usually don’t have to justify a heavy transfer fee or an international call-up.

Then there’s the financial side of things. Buying young and cheap is a win-win method. If a prospect makes the grade, you’ve avoided spending millions on an established player. Otherwise, he can be sold on for a profit. The wisdom of such a recruitment strategy will drive new investor Sir Jim Ratcliffe’s planned overhaul of the club. In fact, it’s in vogue at most big clubs. Chelsea and Manchester City have seemingly produced half the professional footballers in the world. Tottenham recently beat Barcelona to the signature of talented young Swede Lucas Bergvall. Whether or not he makes an appearance for the club, it’s safe to assume Spurs will make money from this.

I anticipate the ‘this is all well and good, but’ counter-argument from Man United fans. The fact is, a super-club like United can’t afford a protracted transition phase, crossing their fingers for Hojlund and co while the blue side of Manchester has all the fun.

The three-time Champions League winners have failed to qualify for said competition five times over the last decade. That’s five times too many. It’ll soon be six unless they muster a faultless run to the end of the season. Ultimately, few onlookers expect any success for United this season. But that doesn’t rule out the potential for productivity.

Erik Ten Hag has often appeared lost. Last week, while his young stars shone on the pitch, his North Star flickered ahead of him. Don’t worry United fans, there is a way forward. The future has already arrived.

Parking the bus is the sort of ‘new normal’ Spurs fans may have to get used to

The phrase ‘new normal’ has been thrown around so much in recent weeks to the point where I cannot stand hearing it. But last night watching Tottenham retreat to their 6-yard box in the defence of a one-goal lead, I couldn’t help thinking this may just be our very own ‘new normal’.

This was a growing concern of mine way before the season was disrupted. At first it was the apparent lack of invention as Mourinho prepared for life after Christian Eriksen. Then came the onus on the long ball. This works when Bournemouth’s back four can’t form a straight horizontal line, but is stifled by a coherent defence or by VAR noticing someone’s shoulder being an inch offside. By the end of February, Tottenham were relying on moments of individual brilliance to scrape together points. Think Bergwijn versus City, Dele versus Brighton. The problem is there’s only a finite amount of individual brilliance in our squad, especially when none of our attacking players can avoid injury. This was a shambolic advance to Europe even Field Marshall Haig would have frowned upon.

So I should have known better than to think this was the start of something great when Stevie Bergwijn raced past the United defence to open the scoring last night. But who could blame me? After all, José and his number two, Joao Sacramento, had undoubtedly profited from these months to finally get to grips with this squad; watch hours and hours of past games, work out strengths and flaws, who should play where, how we can kill games off. All the players, with the exception of Dele Alli and Lucas Moura, were fit and available to play. Sure, United had plenty of pace up top, but didn’t we? We could make mince meat out of Lindelof and Maguire! Come on you Spurs!

Half-time. We’re a goal up and Roy Keane is so angry I can feel the heat from my television. This is going rather well. Defence solid. Attack dangerous. Lamela surely just one foul away from getting booked and winning me £38 from William Hill. We’ve got them on the ropes here. Just one more feeble shot past De Gea could secure the knockout.

Then came the bus. The dreaded bus, parked very clumsily in our eighteen yard box. And it was at around the 48th minute mark that I realised we would no longer win the game.

Before the match Roy Keane, in all his ferocious wisdom, mentioned an inherent weakness in the DNA of Tottenham teams past and present. I’m not convinced on the science here, or if weakness is the sort of trait stored in DNA, but he can’t be that far off the mark.

Luckily, I rarely enjoy watching my team for fear of total collapse (there is form there). So mustering only 39% possession on our home turf doesn’t affect me too much. Nonetheless, it was hard to watch as we dropped further back yard by yard, minute by minute. It’s no surprise Paul Pogba was at the byline when he earned his team a penalty.

Were it not for John Moss’ visual deficiencies being picked up on, we would have lost that match. It would have been another case – just like against Liverpool (twice) and Chelsea (twice) – of Tottenham trying and spectacularly failing to win a game by prioritising the evasion of defeat. Life seemed much easier when if we were to lose a big game, we would go down in flames. Not by conceding one in the 88th minute, but by conceding five in the first half. Parking the bus may prove fruitful against Manchester City once in a blue moon. But even that particular victory required a one-man advantage, a penalty save and about seven near-death experiences. In any case, we can’t keep playing with fire.

There are of course some positives to take and some excuses to make. That first-half performance was perhaps as good as I’ve seen all season. It would also be unfair to overly criticise a team on their first competitive game back in three months. We did lack attacking options off the bench. And most importantly, I am 99% sure if I bet on Lamela to be carded in the next game I’ll finally get the money I deserve. It’s not all doom and gloom – no, that’ll be when we lose to West Ham on Tuesday.

The reason I’m annoyed, perhaps excessively, is for the same reason you get most annoyed at the people you love. It’s because you care, and because you hate the Europa League. So José Mourinho, if you stumble across this, consider letting us play some decent football for a while longer in games. Don’t let parking the bus become the new normal.