Larry Ryan: Don't be cruel, Solskjaer saved the Manuniverse
Manchester United's manager Ole Gunnar Solskjaer leaves the field at the end of the 5-0 defeat to Liverpool. Picture: AP Photo/Rui Vieira
It is hard to believe 22 months have passed since we last pondered, on this page, what use more time would be to Ole.
An apology might be due to the man, for suggesting it wouldnât be wise to give anyone more time to travel in the wrong direction, since it would only mean a longer trip back.
But Manchester United are probably no further away, in all fairness to Ole, who has really only taken them round in circles.
It was already evident back then that momentum had become the new time. That the three-year projects were over. That the modern gaffer had to approach his task more like a climate emergency. With no precise deadline for saving the world, rather a need to constantly persuade people theyâd turned things round and were moving in the right direction.
In truth, Ole never really convinced anyone heâd save the world, but maybe he saved the Manuniverse. And that was enough to keep buying him time.
We can never forget that Ole stepped into a crumbling institution whose own manager had lamented its diminished âfootball heritageâ.
Funnily enough, around the same time that Jose Mourinho was dismantling United from the inside, there was a flood of concern out there that Elvis Presley was about to fade from consciousness as a cultural phenomenon.
The Kingâs records and merch were falling in value for the first time. Commentators were parsing generation gaps and evolving tastes and working out the lifespan of an icon.
It seemed like a direct warning to megaglobal football clubs in existential crisis.
As oil nations took over the business of winning trophies, what else could falling giants offer the world to stay relevant to new generations? A Heartbreak Hotel wouldnât cut it.
As Wright Thompson put it in his recent profile of United: âA teenager living in Manchester has no memory of a time when Man City wasnât the most successful and dominant team in the city.â
Neither had the teenager in Sydney or Beijing or Cape Town. The Man United stock price seemed to be holding up okay, but all around us we could see the crash coming.
There were fewer jerseys on schoolkids and everyone had at least half a dozen acquaintances who âused to follow Unitedâ, but preferred the rugby nowadays.
In trying to lure Jurgen Klopp, United chief Ed Woodward had supposedly described Old Trafford as âan adult version of Disneyland, a mythical place where the entertainment was world class and dreams came trueâ.
But was it beginning to resemble Graceland instead, a theatre of the absurd that had lost its relevance? The home of somebody with more money than sense. âTell me why, oh why, oh why canât my dream come true?â
Around this time, Joel Weinshanker â the geezer who runs Graceland â reportedly suggested he could move the place lock stock to Asia if his plans for redeveloping it as a theme park werenât approved.
And whoâs to say the Glazers didnât run the rule over that option too?
But there are more important things than location to a football club with a loose grip on a feeling.
You are in the kind of territory Zuckerberg was talking about this week, promising more ways to give us âa sense of presence despite being far apartâ.
The fans round the corner will always be there, even if youâve tried to price them out. They are helpless to cut ties.
But in rocky times every club must dig deep to find something of itself to sell to the lapsed believers.
You turn to legends in a fall. Lampard. Zidane. Arteta, another man who has gone round in circles, has probably got more time than he is due for having touched the hem of Wenger.
Unlike Zuck, you canât change the name to try and chase your problems away â in some ways the name is all you have.
In an ideal world, where he could have been trusted not to two-foot the board, United might have turned to their own King. Cantona.
But Ole would have played well with the focus groups too. He might even have been appointed by algorithm.
He brought them to heaven once, on a balmy night in Barcelona. And he warmed the whole Manuniverse in nostalgia. He gave people a sense of presence and allowed fans see the best in themselves â tolerant, loving people who would give a legend time.
Gary Neville has criticised the Glazers for not painting Old Trafford, but Ole spruced up Graceland again, retiled the kidney-shaped swimming pool, relined the racquetball court and brought the buzz back. A culture reboot, they call it.
Old, dead choruses were reborn. Attack, attack, attack. Young players played. We all noticed the lapsed believers return to WhatsApp.
They didnât win anything but they were united. They dreamed again. In the Theatre, you half fancied Ole would chance a hologram duet with Celine Dion.
Things changed when they threw Ronaldo into the mix. He was a shortcut to brand recognition but he brought with him a time limit. Hastened the journey.
The universe had divided on itself. One European Cup winner against another. In the words of George Costanza, worlds are colliding.
It would have had to come back to winning eventually anyway. Didnât the Elvis estate knock another decade out of him winning the 2002 World Cup with that âA Little Less Conversationâ remix?
But since the oil money is only thickening, and winning may be some time away, regardless, wouldnât United be hasty to abandon course now?
Neville has been warning against a âhitmanâ with no regard for their heritage and warning against a return to two-year projects. After all, does anyone really care any more about Chelsea now they are European champions?
Mightnât there be another way?
If itâs not too meta to quote a column on a column in this column, our own Colin Sheridan parsed Wright Thompson recently and outed himself as another lapsed member of the faithful.
âMy love for Man United left the day Roy Keane did, but my fascination with the club remained, even if somewhat dormant.âÂ
Now thereâs an ideaâŠ
