It’s football, Pep, but not as we know it.

Manchester United Head Coach Ruben Amorim

Manchester Evening News

“Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results,” so said Einstein. Or perhaps he didn’t—but no matter the origin, the quote has become one of the internet’s favorites and appears almost everywhere, from management manuals to self-help books.

Such is the quote’s fame that it seems impossible that anyone hasn’t heard it. It certainly seems unlikely that it hadn’t cropped up during any number of UEFA management seminars. This has made the actions of an elite group of Premier League managers, who appeared on a mission to prove Einstein wrong, all the more unfathomable. The more famous and respected the manager, the more likely they were to ignore the quote's wisdom.

Since the inception of the game, the role of a football manager has been to devise a strategy to set their team up to win football matches—put bluntly, arrange the eleven men on the pitch in such a way that the team scores more goals than they concede. 

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The goal has remained the same, but the methods of achieving it have evolved and improved. And what was universally understood was that an approach that won a game one week, against one opponent, might not win a game the next week, against another opponent. And thus, tactics were born.

Yet in the last twenty years, something strange has happened. Tactics have given way to philosophies. What was once fluid and adaptable has hardened into rigid, quasi-religious doctrines that managers refuse to deviate from.

A decade past his prime, Jose Mourinho has become entrenched in a style that almost treats possession of the football as something to fear. He has stuck with this approach despite diminishing returns and repeated sackings—a stark contrast to his earlier, more flexible methods that brought him an array of trophies and admirers. Insanity indeed.

Antonio Conte followed a similar path. At Tottenham, he remained wedded to the system that had brought him glory in Italy, seemingly unable to grasp that different teams, players, and leagues require different approaches. Instead of adapting to his squad, he increasingly resembled a petulant child railing at the world, blaming everyone and everything but himself.

Another former Spurs boss, now Nottingham Forest manager, Ange Postecoglou, has also shown a stubborn streak. His famous line—“It’s who we are, mate”—captured his reluctance to change. While unfair to the Australian in some respects, as it overlooks the revived Spurs, it does reflect the rigidity that led to the club’s worst league finish in a generation. 

What made this more baffling was that in Europe, when forced into a pragmatic approach, his side produced a series of outstanding, organized, and resolute performances. Their performances ultimately led them to win the Europa League—Spurs' first trophy in 17 years.

The cult of philosophies has so thoroughly captured the collective mind of the footballing world that it has, at times, created a strangely backwards incentive system. Vincent Kompany is the clearest example of this. 

After winning the championship with Burnley, the former Manchester City captain was rightly praised, not only for the achievement but also for doing so while playing open, expansive football. However, within weeks of their return to the top tier, it became evident that maintaining such an approach at this higher level would undoubtedly lead to their downfall. Kompany maintained the same style in the Premier League, despite it dooming his side to predictable relegation. 

Burnley fans accused him of prioritizing his personal brand—his “footballing identity”—over the club’s survival. Yet what was his punishment for what can only be described as a dereliction of duty? 

The manager's job at Bayern Munich is a challenging role. He was one of the outstanding European footballing giants. And what did Christoph Freund, Bayern’s sporting director, have to say at the time of Kompany’s appointment? “Vincent Kompany is the type of coach who fits in very well with FC Bayern’s playing philosophy and identity: His teams want the ball, and want to play dominant and high-intensity football.”

So, in what might be considered peak footballing insanity, philosophy and identity seemed to supersede a manager’s ability to manage his team and win games.

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However, the situation may be changing. Some of the league's most recognizable names appear to be regaining adaptability, particularly at the start of this season. Managers such as Guardiola and Arteta, long regarded as high priests of Tiki-Taka, have begun to do what lower-league managers do all the time: adjust their tactics based on the opponent, available players, and match circumstances. The perception of this as revolutionary demonstrates how deeply elite football has descended into chaos.

We’ve seen Guardiola’s Manchester City play direct, exploiting Erling Haaland’s physicality and Jeremy Doku’s pace. We've also witnessed City occupy a deep position with numerous players behind the ball to safeguard their leads. Whilst the results of this have been mixed—Arsenal’s late equalizer against City this weekend being an example of the pitfalls of such an approach—at least it shows flexibility.

Arteta, Guardiola’s protégé, has also tweaked his approach, incorporating longer, more direct passes. Not long ago, both would have considered such changes sacrilegious.

Against this backdrop, Ruben Amorim’s recent claim that “not even the Pope” could make him change his tactics seems particularly misguided. Quite why His Holiness would care about whether United plays three or four at the back is unclear—though even Pope Leo could probably see that Bruno Fernandes as a holding midfielder leaves United light in the middle.

Despite United’s win over Chelsea this weekend, aided heavily by Robert Sanchez’s early red card, Amorim’s system is clearly failing. And if he keeps doing the same thing, he should hardly expect different results.

While Guardiola and Arteta appear to have belatedly embraced the wisdom of adaptability—Einstein’s or otherwise—Amorim clings to his philosophy. The Pope may not persuade him to change, but if results don’t improve, a power greater than the Vatican surely will: the Manchester United Board of Directors.