Sir Jim Ratcliffe has personal links to Manchester United. Photo: Reuters/Phil Noble
If the concept of a distinct English identity still exists at the forefront of the Premier League, it is Manchester United. The club's contribution to the national game is incomparable: they are England's first European champions, with an unprecedented 20 league titles and 71 academy graduates spread across the top four divisions, also a record. Since 1937, they have included a homegrown player in every game lineup, over 4,200 games, illustrating that even in this most overheated of global markets, attachment to country and community continues to matter.
Sir Jim Ratcliffe appears to fit the United mold. He grew up in a council house in Failsworth, north-east Manchester. He spoke eloquently of looking up at the giant mills that dominated the Lancashire skyline in the 1950s, and of being beaten by United the moment his father took him to the game. It's a connection that has stood the test of time. While you can imagine that Ratcliffe took the greatest pleasure in the deals that made him a £30 billion fortune, none of them evoked the same emotions he felt when he witnessed the miracle at the Camp Nou in 1999. He reflected that he had never been kissed by so many grown men. .
When you consider the fact that Ratcliffe lives in Monaco and that he was close to buying Chelsea just 19 months ago, his CV suggests that he understands the power and mystery of United's history. His £1.03 billion investment aside, his personal connection to the place is perhaps his most priceless quality of all. Because if any club should be above becoming a trophy asset for an oil-rich nation state, it is this one.
Some United fans had no problem accepting the idea of handing 100 per cent control to Sheikh Jassim bin Hamad Al Thani before he eventually withdrew his bid in October. If the bottomless pit of Middle Eastern sovereign wealth can take Manchester City from tragicomic failure to the treble, why shouldn't they crave the same instant transformation? But there was a feeling that Ratcliffe was a more acceptable option. Just as United have forged an unbreakable bond between youth and adults, it's nice that their co-owner has such a connection with his latest acquisition. The hatred of the Glazers, who live in remote and inaccessible locations in their Florida lair, has shown the damage absentee ownership can cause.
The funding of sports by nation states has changed the situation, and rarely for the better. City's transformation in Abu Dhabi had created such a sense of self-esteem that, six days before their Club World Cup triumph, some of the fans booed the team for daring to draw with Crystal Palace. Saudi Arabia's annexation of golf courses has made multimillionaires from people whose names wouldn't even make headlines in their own living rooms. How gratifying then that, after a trade that could so easily have made United a mere pawn in a game of soft power between the Gulf states, a quintessentially English club has fallen into the hands of an Englishman.
This matters more than you think. You could argue that United, having seen the fortunes of City and Newcastle turn around thanks to unlimited oil money, should have no qualms about selling to the highest bidder, regardless of nationality. But Ratcliffe's involvement highlights perhaps United's greatest asset: their soul.
Despite all the club's recent failures – and God knows there have been too many, from the bungled Mason Greenwood saga to raw chicken receiving a food hygiene rating of one out of five – they have never lost their authenticity. We saw this in the impeccably moving ceremonies they staged at Sir Bobby Charlton's funeral last month. And we've seen it in the pride sparked by the rise of Marcus Rashford, who is now gripped by a crisis of confidence but remains the favorite given his upbringing six miles from Old Trafford. “He’s from Wythenshawe and he loves to fight,” fans chanted. “He was born to play in red and white.”
With Ratcliffe's arrival, this authentic image continues. A special feature of the nation-state model is that the owners are characterized by the opacity of their beliefs. Statements from City's Sheikh Mansour or Yasser Al-Rumayyan, the head of the Saudi Public Investment Fund that ultimately controls Newcastle, are vanishingly rare. However, Sir Jim is unusually accessible among multi-billionaires. His frankness is so disarming that no one is left in the slightest doubt about what he thinks about anything.
“Don’t get caught up in the woke agenda.” “I am concerned that some of the younger generation have not learned some of the basics of good manners.” “We don’t like arrogance and bullies.” Each is a quote coming from Ratcliffe's mouth, and each reinforces the impression that he is not afraid to tell the hard truth at United. All those terrible recruiting mistakes? This culture is about to collapse, if the likely sales of Jadon Sancho and Anthony Martial are any indication.
Yes, there are question marks. You wonder, for example, whether Ratcliffe's chief guru Sir Dave Brailsford's obsession with profit margins has run its course? But United fans can at least take solace in knowing that Ratcliffe understands the history and significance of what he has bought. This is not just a means of promoting a brand, but a passion project. And in a league warped by incredible rewards from Gulf regimes, Ratcliffe's rise to the top of the United table is a story worth celebrating.
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