“I firmly believe Manchester United could have won this game if Ruben Amorim had listened to me, as other United coaches have in the past. However, it’s clear that I’m starting to lose relevance in his eyes since he took over as coach,” said Manchester United’s greatest legend, who was seen emotional and disheartened over the decline of his beloved childhood club.

The old man sat on the worn leather chair in the corner of the room, the walls of his private office covered with framed photographs, trophies, and the memorabilia of a storied career. Sir Alex Ferguson, a name synonymous with Manchester United’s greatest triumphs, gazed out of the window as the rain drummed softly against the glass. His hands, which had once guided the club to untold glory, now trembled slightly as he clasped them together in his lap. His mind was elsewhere, racing through the events that had unfolded just hours ago.

“I firmly believe Manchester United could have won this game if Ruben Amorim had listened to me, as other United coaches have in the past,” Ferguson had said during his post-match interview, his voice tinged with a quiet frustration. “However, it’s clear that I’m starting to lose relevance in his eyes since he took over as coach.”

The words echoed in his mind, and with each passing moment, they seemed to carry more weight. The weight of years spent building a legacy that no one could have questioned, only to watch it now slowly crumble under a new regime. Amorim, the talented young manager from Portugal, had undoubtedly brought a fresh energy to the team. But Ferguson couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of loss, as if the soul of the club was slipping away—moved on, but perhaps without the wisdom that came with experience.

He had been there for years—an institution in his own right, the architect of countless triumphs, and the father figure to many of the club’s greatest players. When the call had come to him, as it often did, for advice or insight, Ferguson never hesitated. He had always believed his understanding of the club was unparalleled. But now, as the younger Amorim stood at the helm, it seemed the connection was no longer as strong.

He had watched the match against a formidable opponent, one where the Red Devils had fallen short, and the frustration boiled within him. He knew the game could have been won—if only Amorim had listened, adjusted the tactics, or used a different lineup. He knew how to read the pulse of a match like no other. He had done it time and time again during his own reign, turning games from the brink of defeat into victory. But Amorim? He was a man of his own ideas, his own beliefs, and his own methods.

Ferguson couldn’t help but wonder if the times had changed too much for him to offer any meaningful guidance. His legacy, so carefully built over decades, seemed to be fading into the background. It was the passing of the torch, but somehow, it felt like he had been left in the shadows.

Despite his pride, there was a pang of vulnerability beneath it. A deep emotional ache that came from seeing Manchester United—the club that had defined him—struggling without his steady hand at the wheel.

“I’ve done my part,” Ferguson whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. “But will they remember the foundations I built, or is this the end of an era?”

The phone on his desk buzzed, breaking the silence. It was a message from an old friend, a former player who now worked in the club’s front office. The message read simply: “We’re still with you, boss.”

Ferguson stared at the screen for a moment, then put the phone down. A small smile crept across his face. There was still some hope, he thought. Perhaps it was time to step back, but he would never stop caring for the club he loved.

Outside, the rain continued to fall, and in the quiet of his office, Sir Alex Ferguson reflected on his legacy, knowing that even if his voice was no longer heard in the dressing room, the spirit of Manchester United—his Manchester United—would never be extinguished.