Michael Carrick has achieved what philosophers have spent millennia pursuing: complete detachment from reality. After Manchester United crashed out of the EFL Cup—a competition so minor that even the trophy appears to be questioning its own existence—the manager announced he feels no pressure whatsoever.
This is either the most impressive display of Buddhist enlightenment ever witnessed in a dugout, or Carrick has simply stopped reading his emails.
Let us be clear about what has transpired. United, a club with more money than several small nations, exited a domestic cup to opponents whose budget probably comes from a bake sale and a cryptocurrency scheme. The fanbase is circling. The media is sharpening knives. The board is doing whatever it is the board does—presumably staring at spreadsheets and wondering aloud if they have made a terrible mistake.
And Carrick? Not bothered.
Either this man has unlocked a level of composure that transcends the sport itself, or he has discovered a loophole in the manager’s contract that allows him to simply ignore all evidence of failure. Perhaps he has decided that pressure is merely a social construct invented by people who care about winning trophies. Perhaps he knows something we don’t—that the EFL Cup was always cursed anyway.
The truly mad part is this: in a world where managers are sacked for finishing fourth, where a single bad result sends Twitter into apocalyptic meltdown, where every decision is dissected by twelve different podcasts before the final whistle blows, Carrick’s refusal to panic might actually be the sanest thing anyone has said all season.
Or he really hasn’t checked his phone.