From Dugout to Boardroom: How Football’s Short-Termism Is Tearing at Europe’s Game

The City Ground — Forest’s home, and a reminder of roots amid today’s instability. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

The City Ground, Nottingham, photographed from Trent Bridge

The City Ground — Forest’s home, and a reminder of roots amid today’s instability. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

The dismissal of Nuno Espírito Santo by Nottingham Forest might, at first glance, appear to be just another footnote in the Premier League’s long tradition of managerial upheaval. But set against the backdrop of Europe’s growing battle over staging league fixtures abroad, it tells a deeper story about the forces reshaping football. From dugout chaos in England to boardroom brinkmanship in Spain and Italy, the game is increasingly governed not by sporting merit, but by the restless impatience of ownership and the relentless pursuit of global markets.

The Fall of Nuno

Nuno’s tenure at Forest had not been a disaster. Only months ago, he guided the club into Europe, restoring a sense of pride to a historic institution that had been teetering on the margins of irrelevance. For a fan base still clinging to memories of Brian Clough’s glory years, European nights were a welcome return to relevance.

Yet those achievements offered no protection. A stuttering start to the new campaign, whispers of tension between manager and hierarchy, and the ever-watchful eye of owner Evangelos Marinakis produced the inevitable: dismissal.

For Forest supporters, the sacking was more than just a tactical reset. It was a stark reminder of the volatility baked into the Premier League. Managers are expendable commodities, expected to deliver instant results or face the axe. Continuity, the very ingredient that once built dynasties at Manchester United under Sir Alex Ferguson or Arsenal under Arsène Wenger, has become a quaint relic.

A Wider Pattern

Forest’s turmoil does not stand alone. Across Europe, club owners and league administrators are following a similar script: prioritising short-term financial leverage over long-term sporting identity. La Liga’s proposal to stage matches in Miami and Serie A’s discussions about playing fixtures in Perth are not driven by fans in Seville or Milan. They are aimed at television markets, sponsorship deals, and global reach.

The rhetoric is familiar. Football, executives say, must “grow its brand” to compete with the NFL and NBA. Matches staged abroad, in their view, will capture new audiences and revenue streams. But to many supporters, it feels like a betrayal. Football clubs are not franchises; they are civic institutions, bound to their communities through geography, history, and loyalty.

More than 400 fan groups have signed open letters condemning the proposals. The memory of the failed European Super League still lingers: an attempt to centralise power and wealth among a small elite, thwarted only by an extraordinary wave of supporter protests.

Two Faces of the Same Instability

On the surface, Forest’s dismissal of Nuno and UEFA’s flirtation with overseas matches may appear to belong to different categories of football politics. But they spring from the same root: a culture of short-termism, driven by owners and administrators who treat the game primarily as an asset to be maximised.

At Forest, the asset is a Premier League slot — television money, sponsorships, and the prospect of European visibility. When performance dips, the reflex is to cut and replace. In La Liga and Serie A, the asset is the league itself — and the reflex is to repackage it for export, even if it means alienating the supporters who fill the stadiums at home.

In both cases, football becomes less about the community in the stands and more about the spreadsheet in the boardroom.

Fan Resistance

The crucial question is whether supporters can continue to push back. In England, Forest fans are left nursing frustration, their chants of loyalty drowned out by boardroom impatience. Across Europe, fans have mobilised against the overseas expansion plans, arguing that matches belong to their local grounds, not foreign markets.

The protests matter. When the Super League collapsed in 2021, it was not because of UEFA’s wisdom or FIFA’s intervention, but because ordinary supporters made it politically impossible to proceed. That lesson has not been forgotten.

If La Liga or Serie A attempt to force through their overseas ventures, the backlash could be as fierce — and as decisive — as the uprising that humbled Europe’s richest clubs four years ago.

A Crossroads for the Game

Football now stands at a crossroads. On one path lies continuity, respect for tradition, and recognition that clubs and leagues are more than commodities. On the other path lies perpetual churn — managers discarded like spare parts, fixtures exported like products, and fans reduced to customers rather than communities.

Forest’s turmoil is a reminder of what happens when impatience trumps stability. The overseas expansion plans are a warning of how fragile the bond between football and its roots has become. Together, they point to a European game in danger of losing its compass.

The question, as ever, is whether supporters — in Nottingham, Madrid, Milan, or beyond — still have the power to steer it back.

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