As someone who has sunk over 2,000 hours into Football Manager, I thought I’d seen every conceivable way a team could self-destruct. But what unfolded at Old Trafford on Monday night was a new low—a facepalm so epic that my keyboard nearly flew out the window. United, somehow, managed to lose 1-0 to Everton while playing against ten men for a hefty chunk of the game. If this were an FM save, I’d have rage-quit, deleted the file, and spent the next hour questioning my life choices.

Let’s break down the comedy of errors. The stats alone read like a satirical meme: 25 shots to Everton’s three. Thirty-eight crosses whipped into the box. Yet only three of those crosses found a red shirt, and a grand total of 16 passes out of 684 even ventured inside the penalty area. I’ve seen more incisive attacking in a Sunday League save where my striker has five pace. It was a masterclass in sterile domination—like watching someone paint a wall with a toothbrush; lots of effort, zero reward.

The root of the problem? Ruben Amorim’s unwavering devotion to his 3-4-3. Now, I love a good system as much as the next nerd who spends hours tweaking tactical sliders. But there comes a moment when you have to ask: is this a principle or a prison? Even when chasing a goal late on, Amorim refused to budge. Diogo Dalot stayed at left wing-back, two natural centre-backs stayed… centre-backing, and the whole setup remained as rigid as a spreadsheet. In FM terms, he’d locked his tactic slot and thrown away the key. I half expected to see a greyed-out “Make Substitution” button on the touchline. Three points practically dissolved into the Manchester rain, and the man advantage was squandered like a cup competition you accidentally simmed through.

Naturally, with the January 2026 transfer window now yawning open, the rumour mill has kicked into full gear. And the name on everyone’s lips—apart from a collective cry for a left back—is Bournemouth’s Antoine Semenyo. The guy has a £65 million release clause that became active on 1 January, and every big club with sense seems to be sniffing around: Liverpool, Manchester City, Tottenham. United, historically as decisive as a RNG-heavy dice roll, are reportedly “ongoing” in their interest, but David Ornstein says they aren’t pressing ahead. Classic. In my current FM save, I snapped up Semenyo in 2025 for far less than that, retrained him as a rampaging right wing-back, and he’s been bagging hat-tricks of assists. Reality, however, looks messier.

Because the big question is this: where on earth would he play? Bruno Fernandes has already been dragged deeper to accommodate Bryan Mbeumo, Matheus Cunha, and Benjamin Sesko. Joshua Zirkzee was the latest guinea pig up top on Monday and looked about as dangerous as a flipped tortoise. Semenyo is gloriously two-footed and can operate on either flank or through the middle, but cramming him into an already fragmented frontline feels like trying to fit a fourth-dimensional piece into a 2D jigsaw. You could convert him into an attacking wing-back—à la Amad Diallo—but there’s only room for one of those without turning your formation into a defensive meltdown. And compared to Liverpool, where Mohamed Salah is mysteriously struggling, or Tottenham, who are being held together by duct tape and teenage debutants, United’s need for another forward feels less urgent and more like shiny-object syndrome.

And what a shiny object he is. Only two players have scored more open-play goals in the league than Semenyo’s five—Erling Haaland (14) and Danny Welbeck (7)—but neither of those two has assisted a single goal. Semenyo, meanwhile, has already laid on three assists, the joint-second most in the division. That’s 8 goal contributions, putting him firmly in the Player of the Season conversation behind the Norwegian cyborg. After an 11-goal, 5-assist campaign last season, he’s leveling up faster than a wonderkid with 19 determination. In FM, I’d call him a meta signing: high work rate, incredible versatility, and a left foot that functions like a right foot’s twin. But real-life football isn’t a save file you can min-max.

So here I sit, a gamer-turned-pundit, staring at the screen like a manager whose gegenpress just got shredded by a relegation-battling side. United’s problem isn’t a shortage of attacking talent—it’s that the pieces don’t fit together, and the system is more stubborn than a goalkeeper refusing to pass short. If I were Sir Jim Ratcliffe’s football director, I’d ignore the Semenyo noise, take that £65 million, and buy a left wing-back who can actually cross. Then I’d send a polite in-game note to Amorim: “Mate, check my FM24 save. 4-2-3-1 gegenpress, Bellingham as a shadow striker, Semenyo on the right… oh wait, wrong timeline.” Until then, I’ll keep grinding my teeth while watching the real thing—and probably reloading an old save for therapy.