POOR DAVID MOYES! Those three words are likely to be said in jest more than anything else.
The Scottish-born manager spent less than a year at the helm as Manchester United manager before being fired earlier this week — a far cry from the 26 years his predecessor Alex Ferguson spent in charge there.
Even optimists would struggle to argue that Moyes’ time at United was anything other than a disaster. They failed to qualify for the Champions League for the first time since 1995, won no trophy of note (an extremely rare occurrence for United), were well beaten by most of their main rivals over the course of the season and lost millions of pounds in the process.
No matter what Moyes does now, even if he recovers, even if he goes on to win the Champions League several times over with some other club, his entire career will always be defined to an extent by his time at United.
This is not something that will be virtually forgotten about in a couple of years’ time — this is not Brendan Rodgers at Reading. Moyes was given what many would have said was the most coveted job in football — the job as Alex Ferguson’s United successor. He was given the golden ticket to the chocolate factory, yet unlike Charlie, he failed to make the most of his opportunity. At best, he could now become Brian Clough — one of the British game’s most successful managers ever, who endured one similarly turbulent and mercifully brief spell in charge at Leeds United. But even then, a famous book and film were released focusing not on Clough’s many incredible triumphs, but on this rare inglorious failure during the 44 torturous days he spent as boss of the Yorkshire club.
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Yet, despite all the ignominious ramifications of his sacking during the week, despite the stream of articles detailing every minute inadequacy that cost him his job (admittedly including my own pieces), despite all the inconvenient leaks and all the humiliating stories about how the players were constantly undermining their increasingly hapless manager, despite virtually every media outlet across the world revelling in this story of spectacular disappointment, simply because he committed the cardinal sin of not being Alex Ferguson, of not being the most successful manager in British footballing history, and thus, supposedly amounting to a loser essentially, despite this relentless period of shame, the token response among casual observers is invariably ‘I wouldn’t feel too sorry for Moyes’.
PA Archive / Press Association Images
PA Archive / Press Association Images / Press Association Images
(Like David Moyes, Brian Clough also experienced abject failure after taking over the then-league champions back in 1974)
Let’s be clear: Moyes is in a far better position compared with most people in the world in an economic sense. There are millions who, like him, are currently unemployed, yet their prospects are far bleaker for the most part. Some of them have never even been lucky enough to have a job at all. Some are struggling to put food on the table. Moreover, few people receive a £5million compensation package after leaving their workplace, as Moyes reportedly did. Indeed, it is probable that many people — unemployed or otherwise — if given the chance, would gladly swap positions with him, and understandably so.
However, I still can’t help but roll my eyes slightly every time someone says ‘I wouldn’t feel too sorry for Moyes’. There is something inherently offensive about this tiresome phrase.
Firstly, Moyes probably wouldn’t want anyone feeling sorry for him either way, but when a man has failed miserably in what is his livelihood, they’re surely entitled to genuine sympathy. Moreover, it’s rare to come across a manager who has been so patently decent and dignified in much of his behaviour as the Scot consistently is. In fact, in comparison to many of his Premier League counterparts, Moyes is positively angelic in the manner in which he conducts himself.
So when genuinely decent people suffer embarrassing and painful setbacks in full view of the media glare, they surely deserve more than a snarky remark or blunt dismissal of the suffering they presumably endure. Hence, we should all lament Moyes’ misfortune to a degree (yes, even YOU Liverpool fans), rather than effectively dehumanising him, even if it is in a private conversation.
Accordingly, the real issue here is almost nothing to do with Moyes and everything to do with language. If you were to actually ask someone why he or she ‘doesn’t feel too sorry for Moyes,’ they will normally explain it’s because he’s a millionaire or something to that effect. No matter how steeply he falls or how grave an embarrassment or public defeat he suffers, he’ll be grand because he has plenty of money. This logic thus exposes a deeply worrying and unhealthy aspect of our culture — namely, that those who have money aren’t particularly worthy of sympathy. And keep in mind, in the larger picture, Moyes’ feelings are almost beside the point — he may well be incredibly happy or relieved that he no longer has to shoulder the immense burden of responsibility that being Manchester United manager clearly entails.
Yet what sort of societal message does ‘I wouldn’t feel too sorry for Moyes’ send out? That people who have considerable resources aren’t truly worthy of our empathy. And by extension, that it’s unnatural or unreasonable for a wealthy person to ever truly feel depressed or deeply sad. Consequently, although the majority of those who spout this cliché ostensibly mean no harm, it doesn’t stop their comments from being harmful (at least potentially) and from conceivably exacerbating the stigma that exists around depression, particularly when the phrase in question becomes so commonplace that it has more or less risen to the level of cliché.
People’s happiness shouldn’t depend on wealth or lack thereof, or indeed the degree to which they are successful in their job, yet by saying ‘I wouldn’t feel too sorry for Moyes,’ we are contributing as a society to this false and deeply unhelpful perception.
Therefore, I feel genuinely sorry for Moyes, because irrespective of his status, he is bound to have suffered on a human level to a considerable degree, given all he’s been through, and so you should feel empathy for him too.
Moreover, David Moyes is a dedicated and hard-working manager who failed when given the huge responsibility to complete the rebuilding of Man United in a limited number of months. We all will have our failures in life, it is how we respond to those setbacks that define one’s true character, so Moyes should still have plenty of opportunities to ultimately prevail.
'I wouldn't feel too sorry for Moyes' is not only clichéd, it's offensive
POOR DAVID MOYES! Those three words are likely to be said in jest more than anything else.
The Scottish-born manager spent less than a year at the helm as Manchester United manager before being fired earlier this week — a far cry from the 26 years his predecessor Alex Ferguson spent in charge there.
Even optimists would struggle to argue that Moyes’ time at United was anything other than a disaster. They failed to qualify for the Champions League for the first time since 1995, won no trophy of note (an extremely rare occurrence for United), were well beaten by most of their main rivals over the course of the season and lost millions of pounds in the process.
As near-career-defining failures go, it’s up there with Graham Taylor’s catastrophic tenure as England boss — all it needs now is an embarrassing behind-the-scenes documentary recording his many gaffes in the job and the sense of degradation will be complete.
No matter what Moyes does now, even if he recovers, even if he goes on to win the Champions League several times over with some other club, his entire career will always be defined to an extent by his time at United.
Yet, despite all the ignominious ramifications of his sacking during the week, despite the stream of articles detailing every minute inadequacy that cost him his job (admittedly including my own pieces), despite all the inconvenient leaks and all the humiliating stories about how the players were constantly undermining their increasingly hapless manager, despite virtually every media outlet across the world revelling in this story of spectacular disappointment, simply because he committed the cardinal sin of not being Alex Ferguson, of not being the most successful manager in British footballing history, and thus, supposedly amounting to a loser essentially, despite this relentless period of shame, the token response among casual observers is invariably ‘I wouldn’t feel too sorry for Moyes’.
PA Archive / Press Association Images PA Archive / Press Association Images / Press Association Images
(Like David Moyes, Brian Clough also experienced abject failure after taking over the then-league champions back in 1974)
Let’s be clear: Moyes is in a far better position compared with most people in the world in an economic sense. There are millions who, like him, are currently unemployed, yet their prospects are far bleaker for the most part. Some of them have never even been lucky enough to have a job at all. Some are struggling to put food on the table. Moreover, few people receive a £5million compensation package after leaving their workplace, as Moyes reportedly did. Indeed, it is probable that many people — unemployed or otherwise — if given the chance, would gladly swap positions with him, and understandably so.
However, I still can’t help but roll my eyes slightly every time someone says ‘I wouldn’t feel too sorry for Moyes’. There is something inherently offensive about this tiresome phrase.
Firstly, Moyes probably wouldn’t want anyone feeling sorry for him either way, but when a man has failed miserably in what is his livelihood, they’re surely entitled to genuine sympathy. Moreover, it’s rare to come across a manager who has been so patently decent and dignified in much of his behaviour as the Scot consistently is. In fact, in comparison to many of his Premier League counterparts, Moyes is positively angelic in the manner in which he conducts himself.
So when genuinely decent people suffer embarrassing and painful setbacks in full view of the media glare, they surely deserve more than a snarky remark or blunt dismissal of the suffering they presumably endure. Hence, we should all lament Moyes’ misfortune to a degree (yes, even YOU Liverpool fans), rather than effectively dehumanising him, even if it is in a private conversation.
Yet what sort of societal message does ‘I wouldn’t feel too sorry for Moyes’ send out? That people who have considerable resources aren’t truly worthy of our empathy. And by extension, that it’s unnatural or unreasonable for a wealthy person to ever truly feel depressed or deeply sad. Consequently, although the majority of those who spout this cliché ostensibly mean no harm, it doesn’t stop their comments from being harmful (at least potentially) and from conceivably exacerbating the stigma that exists around depression, particularly when the phrase in question becomes so commonplace that it has more or less risen to the level of cliché.
People’s happiness shouldn’t depend on wealth or lack thereof, or indeed the degree to which they are successful in their job, yet by saying ‘I wouldn’t feel too sorry for Moyes,’ we are contributing as a society to this false and deeply unhelpful perception.
Therefore, I feel genuinely sorry for Moyes, because irrespective of his status, he is bound to have suffered on a human level to a considerable degree, given all he’s been through, and so you should feel empathy for him too.
Moreover, David Moyes is a dedicated and hard-working manager who failed when given the huge responsibility to complete the rebuilding of Man United in a limited number of months. We all will have our failures in life, it is how we respond to those setbacks that define one’s true character, so Moyes should still have plenty of opportunities to ultimately prevail.
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