Fans are left with the same guesswork about when Radrizzani will think his limits are reached and what will happen next. In the meantime, United’s Premier League status is being left to fate, since the board wrested control of it from God.
Erling Haaland is a brilliant footballer with a fantastic dad. But the best thing is still that someone with his background can play on a team with Kalvin Phillips, with his.
Maybe the right place for Kalvin was Leeds all along, because Manchester sure hasn’t looked like home from home for him so far.
If a player extends his contract but doesn’t do a video, does he get a pay rise? If a club renegotiates a contract but doesn’t tweet a photo, is it legally binding? If Diego Llorente falls over in the woods and nobody is there to call him an idiot, do Leeds concede a goal?
Imagine Marcelo Bielsa and Tony Yeboah of an evening, sitting together in Frankfurt over a beer, talking about how the Leeds fans still love them.
One thing your billions will buy, in this social media era, is the ability for other people to see you clearly for who you are. And that what it never buys you is an answer to the question, 'Why are they laughing at me?' That one you have to work out for yourself.
Jesse Marsch does not look at peace with the idea that he does not have all the answers. He looks exhausted by having to reconcile himself to not being able to be himself.
Would I send him to a cashpoint with my card and pin? I would. I would ask him to watch my pint in a pub, I would let him look after my pet dog if I had one. He's the neighbour I want my parcels delivered to, the person I want to ask for directions in a strange town.
Ironically, this was one play when a teammate did help him to his feet, before everyone including Trey realised his right foot is supposed to point over there, not over there.
And between every known-unknown of Trey Lance one can see Jimmy Garappolo peering, his all-star eyes flashing, the cut-stone chin just visible.