Getting battered by Bournemouth on home soil never ends well for a Premier League manager - and Manchester United manager Michael Carrick’s job is hanging by a thread.
The Cherries picked Carrick’s Red Devils apart at Old Trafford on Sunday, all while dropped captain Bruno Fernandes watched on from the stands grumpily.
This all leads to one outcome - it’s just a matter of time.
Carrick will no doubt be ushered towards the Old Trafford exit door, with the likes of Antonio Conte, Eddie Howe and Julian Nagelsmann being touted by the press as potential replacements.
For now, Carrick remains in the Man Utd hot-seat, and Sports News Blitz writer Robert Bore picks through the car crash of Sunday’s shambolic display by the Red Devils.
Bournemouth (h) Oct 25
I didn’t watch Michael Carrick’s (emotional) pre-match presser ahead of the game.
I couldn’t bring myself to do so.
I just watched the reaction spew out of social media as the world and his wife vomited chapter & verse.
There were some good takes, there was lots of bullshit - naturally - and then there was me.
Robert Bore, still harbouring lucid memories of times when we were pretty crap. Ok, so I missed the relegation of the 70s but the late 80s were pretty bleak too.
My formative years were blighted by another team in red, those who shall not be spoken, before those magical Fergie years, where I was spoiled like an only child on Christmas morning.
Selection box feast
Feasting on a selection box of Premier League titles, European trophies and cups, all before the obligatory re-run of Star Wars had been on telly.
It’s probably the same feeling the Glazer children have when looking at their bank accounts.
There’s no need to debate the United ‘owners’, it’s been done enough and everyone knows that tale of woe.
Throw in Ineos and their apparent lack of any sort of common sense in delivering their third or so of the shambles and it appears clear that until the lot of them are gone, we’re effectively f**ked.
Like the state of the ownership, the quality of the squad has also been done to death.
Champions League qualification gave them a golden opportunity to set out their stall.
It was as unexpected as it was welcome but, despite the midfield arrivals of Youri Tielemans, Andrey Santos and Carlos Baleba, more was needed. Much more.
Squad full of expensive mannequins
Years of systematic mis-management of players and salaries mean we are stuck with a squad bulked up by the proverbial traffic cones, expensive mannequins happy to skulk in corners and fight in the shadows - but not on the pitch.
Yet you watch Aston Villa, seemingly up the creek without a paddle when they lost their first-team spine this summer, stick one on Man City on Saturday and with three from three in the Champions League.
And the likes of Brighton and Brentford consistently sell on their best players but re-invest themselves to be in an even better place.
So the United soap opera rolls on.
Bruno Fernandes was rightfully dropped after his staggeringly bad post-match comments after the slapping by Como in midweek.
He has been the only shining light at the club for a long time, but his decision to go after his manager was poor.
He didn’t just throw Carrick under the bus, he reversed over him at a time when he should have been looking at himself and thinking “I’ve been shit”.
Bruno not a leader
He’s a wonderful player but he is not a leader.
If I were in a trench, I’d be happier if he was in the one next door. Wearing my colours but not telling me when to run at the machine guns.
He even left the warm-up half a minute or so before his team-mates for dramatic effect and Stretford End reaction - can’t help himself can he?
And let’s not forget that since last season’s heroics and plaudits faded into the history books, the skipper has been pants this season. Really pants.
The game began predictably, Bournemouth stringing four one-touch passes through the United midfield to create a man over, but skipper for the day - maybe longer perhaps - Harry Maguire was on hand to block.
But the hosts had been in the visitors’ half just once in six minutes. This didn’t bode well.
Bournemouth domination
Dalot, woefully out of position after a lung-busting run forward, allowed Rayan the chance to get his cross in and Leny Yoro - who’d made a half-hearted lunge earlier in the move - redeemed himself to get back and clear over his own bar. It was all Bournemouth.
I glanced up from my screen to see my mate Dalot slash one wildly over the top with his wooden leg (left) when a knock across the box seemed the better option.
He did another shocker 24 minutes in, passing back towards his own goal and straight to the opposition. I’ve stopped shaking my head these days.
Maybe I should give the lad a break, he tries his best, that’s for sure.
But his best is just not good enough.
I saw a Championship Manager simulator last week that had been updated with 2026/27 squads.
Deadpool interest in Dalot
Time for some market research. I gave it a couple of pre-season games before sticking Dalot on the transfer list.
There was interest, great stuff, which European giant was in the market for a dynamic international full-back with over 250 appearances for one of Europe’s biggest clubs?
Wrexham. It was Wrexham. Dalot was top of the Deadpool and I drove him to Wales myself for 8.5million. It felt like I’d had Ryan Reynolds’ pants down.
Ayden Heaven had Evanilson to thank for not being sent-off with a studs-up lunge at the ball that the Cherries man hurdled - lack of contact meant a yellow card but the Calamity Button was blinking, and it didn’t stop as the free-kick was lined up. This didn’t feel good.
It wasn’t. The ball was swung over to the far post and Rayan was in acres of space to connect and beat Lammens.
“Sacked in the morning,” sang the visiting fans - in truth Carrick was sacked weeks ago and probably before the season had even begun.
Bryan Mbeumo was unlucky, forcing the save from Dorde Petrovic as he flashed one towards the far post but the resulting corner couldn’t beat the first man and danger was cleared.
Limp performance
United needed to see this out to half-time without further issue and somehow try and inject some life into this limp-arsed performance.
I glanced at the Calamity Button and it was still bright red, I tapped it on the top to make sure it was still working but it just radiated that ominous fuzzy glow, then it winked at me, then again, then again.
Oh shit.
A ball was just played over the top but Yoro had that in hand, just get rid now.
Then he slipped, dithering about under a bit of pressure to gift the ball to Adrien Truffert who unselfishly squared to Marcus Tavernier to tap home. 0-2. And it didn’t flatter the visitors.
Then the whistle for the break, then the boos. Lots of boos. I booed.
Now the predicament.
Heaven was on thin ice after his stupid yellow that led to the opener and United had the creativity of a drowned rat. Would Carrick turn to his skipper, and perhaps Lisandro Martinez, the other recent nemesis.
Could he turn to them without further damaging his own standing and diluting his message to the dressing room?
Cunha called into action
No, he went for a Brazilian instead, Matheus Cunha tasked with trying to haul his side back into it while Fernandes stomped down the sideline and back to the bench, fiddling with his gloves and with a face like thunder.
Tielemans was sacrificed while Santos somehow remained.
Within 30 seconds it was almost three, firstly Heaven and then Maguire getting into a mess and the offside flag sparing their blushes.
Rayan should have scored a few minutes later but shot straight at Lammens.
I sighed, a resigned huff or inevitability.
Martinez shaken, not stirred
As we approached the hour mark, Fernandes was warming up while Cunha and Mbeumo both fired over the top with half-chances. United needed a goal.
Martinez was brought back into the fold with 25 minutes to go. His first contribution was to almost let Ryan run past him and score.
But the game was put to bed with 20 minutes to go and it was a belter.
Martinez seemed to leave the big clearance punt for Lammens, who was racing out of his box but was never going to beat Evanilson in the race, and the Cherries ace wrapped his foot around the ball from the angle and plumped it in the far corner.
Fernandes was already sat back on the bench.
It was like hitting a baby. With a large stick.
Shea Lacey was readied, which meant no Bruno, so regardless of Carrick’s job status on Monday morning, he had at least made his statement with regard to the Portuguese.
No way back
Maybe it would benefit his replacement. It was probably irrelevant.
What odds on a January transfer?
It was hard to see a way back for either manager or skipper, but in this game of footballers as commodities, it would all be forgotten once the next man was in situ.
The game petered out, leaving United with seven points from eight games, which would surely now be Carrick’s epitaph.
To be fair to him, the fans had his back all game.
Regardless of that announcement, the former midfielder’s status as a United stalwart will remain undiminished.
He left the pitch like a man walking to the gallows while the supporters sang his name.
I hope he went straight into the dressing room and smashed the place to bits.
Badly let down
Whatever your view on team selection or tactics, he has been let down badly both on and off the pitch.
The fact we have no left-back in the absence of the injured (again) Luke Shaw, with Dalot being shunted over when he can’t play on his natural side with any real aplomb, speaks volumes.
Yoro sat out of position at right-back, and was culpable for a goal.
The lack of centre-back quality, no recognised striker in Benjamin Sesko’s absence, and the shite stacked up on the bench.
Which points firmly at the footballing department and, in particular, Omar Berrada and Jason Wilcox.
It’s their mess. In any other industry they would already be gone.
We’ve seen this episode before, rinse & repeat as we await the next patsy.
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