With Manchester United lurching through one of their most chaotic Premier League seasons in living memory, manager Ruben Amorim is standing his ground — even as the ground beneath him trembles.
Despite public speculation following his post-match comments after Sunday’s 2-0 defeat to West Ham — interpreted by some as a resignation teaser — Amorim clarified in a UEFA media briefing that he has no plans to walk away.
“I’m far from quitting,” Amorim said. “I have a clear idea of what to do.”
Amorim, who was once hailed as a tactical wunderkind at Sporting Lisbon, now finds himself under siege at a club spiraling in the league. United sit a dismal 16th, staring down the barrel of their worst top-flight finish in half a century — not since 1973-74 have they seen this kind of collapse.
They’ve won just four league matches in 2025 — three of them against sides already relegated. The only shining light in this dark tunnel? Amorim has somehow dragged the team to the Europa League final, set for May 21 against Tottenham in Bilbao.
But even that glimmer has its shade.
“If we don’t win, it’s going to be really tough,” Amorim admitted. “The patience of the fans and media will be on the limit next season. We’d have to be perfect.”
The club’s approach to the final reeks more of austerity than celebration. Win or lose, there will be no parade — only a low-key barbecue at Carrington. That’s assuming they win. If they lose? There’ll likely just be smoldering coals and burned-out spirits.
Amid back-to-back waves of mass layoffs at United (250 last year, up to 200 more incoming), Amorim and his players have stepped in to buy tickets for the families of backroom staff — whose own perks have been slashed during the club’s brutal restructuring.
“It’s not going to change my life,” Amorim said. “Helping the staff to feel included makes them better staff. The players feel the same.”
A classy gesture in a club where the board seems to have lost the plot.
Having lost the 2014 Europa League final as a player with Benfica, Amorim isn’t sugarcoating the stakes this time.
“I will never say I was a finalist,” he said. “The feeling has to be, ‘What a waste of time.’
We have to win, or it doesn’t matter.”
And he’s not wrong. Beyond the pride of lifting a trophy, £100 million in Champions League revenue hangs in the balance. For a club hemorrhaging prestige and payroll, that windfall could be the difference between rebirth and full-blown rebuild.
Ruben Amorim isn’t clueless — he knows the job may well consume him. But he’s not ducking responsibility. He’s owning the collapse, rallying his players, and doing something vanishingly rare in modern football: staying loyal to a mess.
The Europa League final could be his lifeline or his eulogy. Either way, he’s not quitting. Not yet.
By Kelly Were
