Rio Ferdinand was visibly furious after Manchester United’s latest collapse, his voice cutting through the post-match noise with sharp conviction. He replayed the moments in his head and on screen — the same pattern, the same lapses, the same mistakes. He praised Šeško’s work rate and intensity but couldn’t hold back his disgust at what happened behind him. “The defending was a joke,” he said. Though he avoided naming names, the message was clear: one senior defender’s costly errors had undone everything the team built.
The game had looked to be in United’s hands for most of the night. Amorim’s men pressed high, controlled possession, and Šeško’s tireless movement kept Tottenham pinned back. But all that composure vanished in the second half. A lazy back-pass gifted Spurs their first goal, and poor marking opened the door for Son Heung-min to snatch another. Analysts reviewing the footage didn’t mince words — both goals were born of carelessness, not lack of attacking spark.
Ferdinand couldn’t stand how the conversation online turned into a witch hunt against Šeško. “He ran himself into the ground,” he argued. “You can’t expect him to score, defend, and clean up everyone’s mess.” His frustration wasn’t about one bad game; it was about the double standards within the squad. When certain names mess up, they’re shielded by reputation. When others falter, they’re crucified. Ferdinand’s call was simple: stop scapegoating the wrong players and start fixing the real problem — leadership and communication at the back.
Behind closed doors, the dressing room told the same story. Tension filled the air as players whispered what everyone already knew but no one dared to say out loud. The mistakes were obvious, and so was who made them. Yet because the culprit is one of the manager’s favorites, the silence continued. “It’s annoying,” said one insider. “Everyone saw what happened, but no one will say it publicly.” The frustration wasn’t just about the draw — it was about the growing sense of unfairness.
Fans, too, split into camps as social media exploded with takes. Some backed Ferdinand wholeheartedly, insisting Šeško had carried the team. Others demanded accountability for the big names hiding behind status. “We all saw who cost us,” one fan posted. “He did it twice.” The numbers only fueled the argument: the unnamed defender’s pass accuracy, duels, and interceptions were miles below the team average. Ferdinand’s point hit home — this wasn’t bad luck, it was preventable failure.
Even Amorim couldn’t escape criticism. Commentators questioned his loyalty to underperforming players, suggesting that his refusal to bench them had become a recurring weakness. Ferdinand was blunt: “You keep rewarding mistakes, you’ll keep getting the same results.” The message was clear — if Amorim wanted to steady the ship, he needed to act, not just talk. The coming fixtures would test not only his tactics but his courage to make tough calls.
Meanwhile, Šeško stood tall amid the storm. Despite missing an early chance, his stats told a story of grit and determination — more shots, more pressing, more heart than anyone else on the pitch. Even rival pundits applauded his attitude. “He was let down by the defense, not the other way around,” said former Spurs defender Ledley King. Ferdinand’s defense of him wasn’t just emotional — it was rooted in hard evidence.
As the dust settled, the question lingered: would Amorim finally drop his untouchable defender? Doing so might shake the dressing room but could also restore accountability. Ferdinand’s closing words rang with conviction — “If you cost goals, you sit. Simple.” The draw with Tottenham wasn’t just another bad night; it was a mirror reflecting everything wrong at Manchester United — favoritism, fragility, and failure to face the truth. Until those cracks are sealed, their title dreams will keep slipping through their fingers.
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