When you take a moment to reflect, it’s quite astonishing how the ongoing situation at Liverpool is being reduced to a straightforward narrative: Mohamed Salah versus Arne Slot. It’s not just a matter of who is right, but also about who should take the first step forward, with Slot recently stating, “I haven’t said I’m not going to talk to him. And the next question is should the initiative come from me or from him…”
This resembles a childlike drama, where fans and media act as the concerned adults. Slot plays the strict teacher who blames young Mo for his classmates’ poor performances and expels him from class, forcing the young student to take his complaints to his parents. On the flip side, Salah might appear as the entitled kid, deflecting responsibility for his disruptions, who turns to his parents in hopes of getting the mean Mr. Slot reprimanded—or at least disciplined. And so everyone waits to see who will initiate the “clearing the air” meeting, hoping it culminates in reconciliation.
However, an essential player seems to be absent from this narrative. There’s someone who is employed to make critical decisions, someone whose actions—though perhaps well-intentioned—led to the current stalemate, someone Salah was likely alluding to in his statements, and most importantly, someone who will have the final say on how this situation unfolds.
That entity is the club itself. More specifically, in this soccer context, we’re referring to Michael Edwards, the CEO of Football, and Richard Hughes, the sporting director.
– Lindop: Where do Liverpool, Salah go from here?
– Karlsen: A few options if Liverpool need to replace Salah
– Ogden: Salah’s outburst reminiscent of Ronaldo at Man United
Aside from brief affirmations supporting Slot—expected in any circumstance—there has been a conspicuous silence from them. In some football cultures, this would be considered odd, but in England, it’s relatively commonplace: individuals in such roles often remain quiet. (Though perhaps they should speak up more.)
Ultimately, they too must accept their share of the responsibility for how matters have reached this point, just as both Slot and Salah must.
Salah didn’t blame the “manager”; he pointed fingers at the “club.” He didn’t indicate that the “manager” made promises over the summer; he referenced the “club,” claiming it was the “club” that “hasn’t upheld those promises.” He mentioned that his relationship with Slot was once “good,” but that they “don’t have any relationship” now and expressed uncertainty about why that is. Yet, he also indicated that “someone doesn’t want me in the club.”
Could it be that he is referencing Slot while simply using “club” for convenience? That might be, albeit confusing. Let’s categorize it as a “known unknown.”
More crucially, Salah’s mention of “promises made over the summer” is noteworthy.
It’s safe to deduce that the “promise” wasn’t something like, “Mo, you’ve done so much for the club, don’t worry about Hugo Ekitike, Florian Wirtz, Alexander Isak, or anyone else… You’re a club legend; you’ll start every single match.” We can dismiss this outright, as no manager or club would extend such a guarantee, and no player would be wise to take it at face value.
Especially considering that Salah himself was less than 100 days away from free agency, only signing his two-year contract extension on April 11, 2025, less than eight months ago. That made it abundantly clear from the club’s side: We value you, we appreciate you, and we want you to be here, but it will be on our terms because you’re not irreplaceable, and we can envision a future without you.
More likely, the “promise” (or perhaps it would be wiser to refer to it as the “plan”) entailed integrating Salah into a 4-2-3-1 setup featuring new fullbacks, Wirtz at No.10, and a new central forward, with the expectation that this system would succeed. Well, as many know, that projection has not materialized. Slot has been forced to adjust and experiment with various lineups repeatedly—most recently, the diamond midfield and two-forward arrangement seen in Liverpool’s 1-0 Champions League victory at Inter on Tuesday night, which notably excluded Salah (and initially, Wirtz as well).
Who bore the responsibility for this plan/promise and the acquisitions? It certainly wasn’t Slot acting alone: it was Edwards and Hughes working together with Slot and likely others. They were the ones who made the pivotal decision to extend Salah’s contract (and that of club captain Virgil van Dijk) last spring.
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These are astute individuals with a commendable track record; they’re not uninformed people haphazardly collecting player Panini stickers. They saw a path forward, and presumably, so did Slot. They believed the manager could execute the strategy effectively on the field. While they anticipated some hurdles—such as competition for places, starting with center forward after Ekitike and Isak’s arrival, some players feeling discontent about their minutes, and possible ego clashes—they hoped their emotional acumen and management skills could navigate through these challenges.
But even the brightest minds can miscalculate. Squad management and recruitment are not exact sciences. (Exhibit A: the back line, where they failed to secure their desired central defender following Marc Guéhi‘s dramatic deadline-day saga at Crystal Palace, and they were unable to implement their backup plan, if they even had one. If Guéhi had been brought in, one might speculate whether it would have been Van Dijk or Ibrahima Konaté who would be facing bench time instead.)
That error in judgment is where the club’s owners and upper management will likely hold them accountable. The prospect of Liverpool struggling was a far-off possibility. Salah being benched was an even more remote scenario within that context. And encountering Salah’s outburst was an even more unlikely outcome given those circumstances. Yet, it all occurred, and now they must confront the fallout.
What remains uncertain is how unified everyone was regarding the plan, their level of confidence in its success, and how prepared they were to face the worst-case scenario (which is essentially what has transpired). While we cannot ascertain this, those in positions of authority at Liverpool certainly do know, and they will be drawing their conclusions.
What is clear is that you cannot place all the blame on Slot, either as the club’s savior or, from the Salah side, the archetypal antagonist. The era of the all-powerful manager, akin to Sir Alex Ferguson, is long over. However, so too are the days when the manager (Brendan Rodgers at the time) and the so-called transfer committee operated as if independently of one another, a dysfunction Liverpool fans likely remember well.
Successful, well-managed organizations—such as Liverpool Football Club—base their operations on accountability, shared responsibility, and understanding that judgments may go awry (and sometimes, mistakes could even lead to long-term success). It might be simpler to frame this scenario solely around Salah and Slot, to take one down first and then the other if necessary. But the reality is that this situation is multifaceted and must be resolved collectively.