Why caretaker managers in football never land a permanent gig even when tasting early success

It’s both a cruel and rewarding world. If the caretaker does a credible job, his reputation is enhanced, he might fetch a handsome job elsewhere. Yet at the end of the season, their brief tenure ends with a warm handshake, a “thank you” note and a hefty reward. A bigger manager lands up next year. The caretaker, often, ends up in a smaller club, a mid-table or promoted side, or a Championship side. Some of them become crisis specialists, hired to stave off relegation or a mid-table slump. There would be no dearth of jobs, there would always be a club in crisis. Carrick has tasted it once, when he managed the club briefly but successfully after the ouster of Ole Gunnar Solskjaer. He soon found a job with Middlesborough, where he spent three futile seasons fighting for promotion.

History, perhaps, is a source of cynicism. In 34 Premier League seasons, only 21 caretaker managers had their job made permanent. Of those only a handful enjoyed reasonable success. Chelsea’s Roberto Di Matteo’s name strikes first. Taking over the London club from Andre Villas-Boas, he steered Chelsea to their maiden Champions League, the Holy Grail for then owner Roman Abramovich. He was furnished a two-year contract, but was fired by November next season after league failings. Bolstering the sense of foreboding when making an interim coach permanent is that only one of these 21 has ever lasted a full season after landing the permanent job, betraying the general distrust of stopgaps.

There had been exceptions too. Like Fulham’s Chris Coleman in the early aughts. He helped the Cottagers out of relegation and was appointed manager next season, when he was only 32. He lasted four seasons. Fulham’s Scot Parker is another tale of success. Or slipping further back, Aston Villa’s Tony Parker, who engineered their European Cup triumph, after his predecessor Ron Saunders walked out after a contract dispute. He lasted for two more years, but with negligible success.

The grandest success story involves the Brazilian legend Mario Zagallo. A shrewd tactician and an industrious winger, who invented the deep-lying winger role, his reappointment as Brazil’s manager before the 1970 World Cup was funnily fascinating. His predecessor, João Saldanha, was a journalist, who managed part-time. The story goes that he was made the manager so that the scrutinising Brazilian media at that time would be softer in their criticisms. Saldanha’s swaggering side stormed through the World Cup qualifiers, winning all six games and belting 23 goals. But he committed the blasphemy of announcing that he would drop Pele from the squad, citing that his eyesight was deteriorating. A communist in the era of dictator Emílio Garrastazu Médici, he snubbed the latter’s recommendation of picking his favourite Dario. The brazen manager, the rumour goes, brandished a gun at a journalist during a press conference.

A lone defeat was all CBF required to oust him. Zagallo answered the SOS, and went to shape a devastatingly brilliant World Cup triumph, what most pundits consider the most flawless stroll of the title. His first decision was to recall Pele. The rest is history. “Mario knew our DNA. He knew how to handle the egos, and of course he was a tremendous footballer too,” Tostão would say.

It’s the argument put forth in favour of Carrick too. That he knows the club’s DNA, even though what constitutes Manchester United DNA is vague. It’s not a club, like Real Madrid, now run by the interim Álvaro Arbeloa, a former full-back of the world’s most glamorous club, but not one of the Galacticos, that flourishes on systems and structures. Its ethos are shaped and driven by a personality cult. A legend of the club, he has stature, but without the aura.

The case against him is the precedent of Solskjaer. Replacing Jose Mourinho, he instantly inspired a turnaround. In his first full season, he shepherded them to the second spot on the table, albeit a distant one, But the lacklustre start to the next season saw him given the marching orders. Throughout his reign, even during his winning sprees, skepticism ran that he had not proven enough to manage a club of United’s heritage. It is a different story that the management vetoed some of the players he wanted to buy (most notable being Erling Haaland and Jude Bellingham, before both became world-class players).

A similar fate could befall on Carrick too, even if rides United to European qualification. He might have beaten the two foremost teams of his time in his first two games in charge, but he might not get a permanent gig next season. It’s the fate of caretakers.