Twenty-Three Men and a Flight to London: Michael Carrick's Gamble at Craven Cottage

Among the 23 names Michael Carrick is preparing to bring to Craven Cottage this Saturday night, there is one that forced me to stop and read three times. Matthijs De Ligt. The Dutch centre-back has been absent for nearly an entire year due to a back injury. I sat in my small apartment in Busan, opened the squad list on my phone screen, and recalled the last time I saw him run a full 90 minutes in a competitive match. It was an autumn afternoon last year, in a seat with no cameras. Today, that name sits among twenty-two others, carrying a question without an answer: is this the return of a warrior, or the cry for help of a general under siege? I have spent 51 years recording the moments that flashbulbs never touch. In that journey, I learned one thing: never read a squad list with your eyes. Read it with the team's breathing. And Manchester United's breathing right now is rapid, unsettled, like a person trying to breathe steadily in a panic attack. Two consecutive defeats to Manchester City and Brighton have shaken the foundations of a club that never knew how to accept defeat. Michael Carrick, the man who was once Sir Alex Ferguson's student, now stands in the eye of the storm. To fully understand the significance of this trip, we need to return to context. The Premier League 2026/2027 season is entering matchweek six. Manchester United, after five rounds, has lost two consecutive matches. Not gentle defeats, but defeats carrying the bitter aftertaste of collapse. Against Manchester City, Pep Guardiola's side or his successor, Man United were crushed in ball control. Against Brighton, a team that always knows how to play irritating football, they lost in a way that made viewers turn away. The English press, with their art of creating pressure honed over decades, have begun doing what they do best: comparing. A commentary in the Manchester Evening News questioned an "emergency meeting" that might occur at Old Trafford, and in the same paragraph, linked Carrick's current situation to the final days of Ole Gunnar Solskjaer. This is a classic technique of English sports journalism: planting a story by recalling a finished one. Solskjaer was sacked after a similar losing streak. Readers automatically connect the two events, and before the match even kicks off, the pressure has doubled. But I sit here, nearly 9,000 km from Old Trafford, looking at the picture from a different angle. And that angle begins with the number 23. A Premier League club typically brings 18 to 20 players for an away match. The number 23 is unusual. It exceeds the minimum requirement for a football match. In 51 years of note-taking, I have seen such numbers appear twice. The first time was in a national cup final, where the manager wanted every player to feel the atmosphere. The second time, and this is more important, was when a manager did not know for certain which lineup would take the field. When you bring 23 people, you are not just bringing backup options. You are bringing hesitation. And Michael Carrick's hesitation is justified. Luke Shaw, the veteran left-back, has been absent for about two weeks. That is a short enough period for the body to recover, but long enough to lose the feel for the ball. Matthijs De Ligt, who has been absent for nearly a year with a back injury, is an entirely different question. A year is enough time for a player to forget how to move in the tight spaces of the Premier League. The back is a body part that never forgives haste. And Carlos Baleba, the Cameroonian new signing, who arrived at Manchester United in an injured state, has never played a single minute of competitive football for this club. Three names. Three questions. And a manager who needs answers immediately. Let's start with Baleba, because this is the most interesting story. When Manchester United signed him, the medical team and coaching staff laid out a clear plan: he would recover, train lightly with the first team, and debut after the international break. That was a sensible plan for a player arriving injured. You don't throw an unhealed person into the furnace of the Premier League. You give them time. But the plan changed. Baleba has trained with the first team for the past week. One week. In one week, a young player can only learn the most basic tactical system, and even that is an optimistic figure. One week is not enough to understand how teammates move, not enough to build understanding in one-touch combinations, and certainly not enough to reach peak match fitness. So why is he on the list? There are two explanations. The first: Baleba's recovery has been faster than expected, and the medical team has confirmed he is ready for at least a few minutes. The second, and this is the one I believe more: Michael Carrick needs backup options. When you are facing the risk of losing your job, you want more cards in your hand. Even untested cards. The same applies to De Ligt. A centre-back absent for a year due to a back injury cannot be assessed through training alone. He needs to be tested in real match conditions. But putting such a player into an away match, where Fulham will attack with speed and mobility, is a gamble. If De Ligt re-injures himself, Manchester United lose a world-class centre-back again. If he plays well, Carrick has another option in defence. But in elite football, gambles like this often don't end the way you hope. I recall a training session I was permitted to observe at Hwamyeong years ago. A young player returning from a long injury. He trained well, ran fast, passed accurately. But when he stepped into a real match, in the first 20 minutes, he could not position himself correctly. Not because he was poor, but because his body had forgotten the rhythm of elite competition. De Ligt could be in a similar state. And in the Premier League, you don't have 20 minutes to adjust. You have 20 seconds. But here is what I haven't seen anyone write. The Solskjaer story is not the correct story. It is a story manufactured to sell newspapers. And if you read it with the eyes of someone who has observed football for over half a century, you will see a large hole in the argument. Solskjaer was sacked after a losing streak lasting months, not after two matches. Solskjaer was sacked when the team no longer believed in him, when the dressing room fractured, and when the board realised there was no other path. Carrick's situation is different in nature. Two defeats are a bad signal, but not yet a verdict. Football is a sport of streaks, and two matches is far too short a streak to judge anything. Moreover, I have seen this many times. When the press begins mentioning the name of a previously sacked manager, they are testing public reaction. If fans react negatively, they will continue. If not, they will pivot. The Fulham match is a test, but not a test for Carrick. It is a test for the story. And there is another aspect the media often overlooks. Fulham is described as a "dark horse". In football language, that means this team is playing better than expected. But "playing better than expected" also means the pressure is shifting. When you are the dark horse, you play with the mentality of someone who has nothing to lose. But when a big club comes to your ground in a wounded state, that mentality changes. You become the one expected to win. And sometimes, that is a heavier burden than having to win when you are the strong side. In 51 years of following football, I have realised one thing: big clubs in a wounded state are the most dangerous teams. When you corner a wounded animal, it will fight with everything it has left. Carrick knows this. His players know this. And I believe the match against Fulham will be the match where Manchester United play with the highest intensity since the start of the season. That does not mean they will win. Football is never that simple. But it does mean the way we read this match needs to change. Instead of asking "Will Carrick be sacked if he loses?", we should ask "What happens if he wins?" A victory at Craven Cottage would not only save Carrick's position. It could be the moment that reshapes the entire season. But it could also be the final moment before everything collapses. That is the nature of football. Nothing is guaranteed. Only rhythm, and those who know how to listen to it. So what will happen at Craven Cottage? I don't know. No one knows. But I will be watching three signals. First, the starting lineup. If De Ligt starts, Carrick is being reckless. If he sits on the bench, Carrick is being patient. Second, the timing of Baleba's substitution. If he comes on in the first half, it is a sign of desperation. If he comes on in the 75th minute, it is a controlled debut. Third, and most importantly, Carrick's expression on the touchline. Managers under pressure often reveal fear through body language. Carrick is a naturally calm man. If he loses his composure, we will know how serious things are. On Saturday night, at Craven Cottage, on the coaching bench, a man will sit there with twenty-three names in his hands. Among them, a new signing who has never played a minute, a centre-back who has been absent for a year, and a left-back who has just returned after two weeks. Three questions. One answer. And the quietest drumbeat, as I have learned over fifty-one years, is always the beat that leads the entire match.