The Loyalty Question: Does Commitment Still Exist in English Football, did it ever?
An examination of loyalty from managers, players, clubs and supporters in the modern game

Introduction: The Rob Edwards Saga
Loyalty in football has become increasingly rare, and recent events have thrust this uncomfortable truth back into the spotlight.
In November 2025, Rob Edwards resigned from Middlesbrough after just four months as head coach, despite signing a three-year contract the previous summer. His departure to join Premier League strugglers Wolverhampton Wanderers left a Championship promotion contender in disarray and sparked fierce debate about manager loyalty throughout English football.
Edwards had overseen a remarkable start to the season at Boro, winning his first four matches and earning the Championship Manager of the Month award for August. With the Teesside club sitting second in the table, the future looked bright. Yet when Wolves came calling, Edwards quickly made clear his desire to leave, and, feeling betrayed, the club reluctantly agreed to accept Wolves’ agreement to pay approximately £3.8 million in compensation.
What made the situation particularly painful for Boro supporters was not the fact that he’d left the Riverside Stadium for a job in the division above, with more money and closer to home, but rather Edwards’ own words just weeks earlier, when he told fans they needed to be united as “a family” to progress. The fans had bought into this, and his swift departure suggested those words rang hollow and were not worth the “online paper” they were written on.
This case is far from unique. It reminds us of a broader truth that has become increasingly apparent in modern football: namely, that loyalty appears to be in short supply. Whether examining the behaviour of football managers, players, or club owners themselves, examples of genuine commitment are overshadowed by tales of broken promises, sudden departures, and mercenary attitudes.
The only group that consistently demonstrates unwavering loyalty are the supporters, who stand by their clubs through triumph and disaster, only to watch those they support show little reciprocal dedication, although having said that, there are also many examples of fans turning on their “heroes” at the drop of a hat, when things aren’t going well.
The question, then, is not just whether loyalty exists in football, but whether it ever truly did, and if so, what killed it. To answer this, let’s look at the game from the perspectives of those who shape it: the club owners, the players, the managers, and the fans, who arguably make it all possible.
Club Owners: Business First, Sentiment Second?
From a club owner’s perspective, football has become an increasingly commercial enterprise where success is measured in balance sheets as much as trophies. This hasn’t always been the case, of course. There are many examples from the past of businessmen trying to run their local club, making decisions from the heart rather than a business mindset, and usually ending in financial disaster.
Steve Gibson, the current Middlesbrough chairman, is perhaps an unusual example of someone who has been successful with his local club. Still, you only have to look back at Leeds United in the late 90s and early 2000s under Peter Ridsdale for an example of how it can all go horribly wrong.
So there are examples of loyalty from club owners, but the romantic notion of loyal stewardship has, these days, given way to hard-nosed business calculations, and managers or players who fail to deliver results are shown the door with brutal efficiency, partly driven by the amount of money now injected into the game at the top-levels, together with introduction of foreign owners and businesses looking for a return on their football investment.
Consider the case of Chelsea under Roman Abramovich and now under Todd Boehly’s ownership. The club became notorious for its revolving door of managers, with 15 different permanent managers appointed between 2003 and 2023. Roberto Di Matteo was sacked six months after winning the Champions League. José Mourinho was dismissed twice despite winning titles. Frank Lampard, a club legend as a player, was given little time to build before being dismissed. Graham Potter lasted barely seven months despite a significant pay-off from Brighton.
Yet owners would argue results justify this approach. Chelsea won five Premier League titles, two Champions League trophies, and numerous other honours during the Abramovich era. From their perspective, loyalty to underperforming managers would have been a luxury they could not afford. The same logic applies to players who demand improved contracts or threaten to leave: they are either offered new terms or sold for profit, whichever makes more financial sense.
Some exceptions prove the rule. Protests and accusations of asset-stripping have marked the Glazer family’s ownership of Manchester United. Yet, they have shown some loyalty to managers, giving David Moyes, Louis van Gaal, José Mourinho, and Ole Gunnar Solskjær at least a little time, despite disappointing results. Whether this constituted loyalty or simply incompetence is, of course, debatable, but it demonstrates that some owners do resist the temptation to make knee-jerk changes.
Similarly, the ownership model at clubs like Brighton has shown that patient, strategic planning can yield dividends. Their loyalty to Graham Potter through difficult early periods allowed him to develop into one of the most sought-after managers in England before his departure. When he left for Chelsea, Brighton had the infrastructure in place to promote Roberto De Zerbi, maintaining continuity despite losing their manager.
The fundamental issue is that club ownership has become increasingly divorced from local communities. Foreign billionaires and investment consortia view clubs as assets to be optimised rather than institutions to be cherished. When loyalty conflicts with profit, loyalty almost always loses. Fans may condemn this approach, but owners would counter that without their investment, many clubs would not survive at all.
Players: Caught Between Ambition and Sentiment
Professional footballers operate in a unique environment where their earning potential is compressed into a relatively short career window. A player’s peak years may span from their early twenties to early thirties, creating intense pressure to maximise earnings and achieve success while they can. In this context, and perhaps understandably, player loyalty often takes a back seat to career advancement and financial security.
The case of Harry Kane provides a fascinating study in conflicting loyalties. Kane spent his entire career at Tottenham Hotspur from academy level, becoming the club’s all-time leading goalscorer and captain. Despite interest from elite clubs and Tottenham’s failure to win a major trophy during his time, amid talk of broken, perhaps unwritten promises, Kane remained until 2023, when he finally moved to Bayern Munich at age 30. For years, Kane’s loyalty was celebrated, but some critics argued he stayed too long, prioritising sentiment over his legitimate ambition to win the biggest prizes in football.
Contrast this with the behaviour of players like Raheem Sterling, who forced a move from Liverpool to Manchester City in 2015 by refusing to sign a new contract. Sterling faced fierce criticism and abuse from Liverpool supporters. Yet, from his perspective, the move was entirely rational: Manchester City offered higher wages, better prospects of winning trophies, and was building one of Europe’s elite teams under Pep Guardiola. Sterling went on to win multiple Premier League titles and establish himself as an England regular. SO arguably, the Results vindicated his decision to prioritise ambition over loyalty.
The emergence of so-called player power has fundamentally altered the loyalty equation. With the Bosman ruling allowing free transfers at the end of contracts, players now hold considerable leverage in negotiations. Running down contracts to force moves has become common practice. Clubs that once could demand loyalty now find themselves forced to sell players or risk losing them for nothing.
Although it does seem to be a rare thing, some players do demonstrate genuine loyalty in football.
James Milner spent years as a reliable squad player at various clubs, consistently giving his best regardless of circumstances. Matt Le Tissier famously spent his entire career at Southampton despite interest from bigger clubs, becoming a legend but potentially limiting his trophy cabinet. Jamie Vardy stayed at Leicester City after their miraculous Premier League title win in 2016, rejecting offers from Arsenal and remaining a one-club man in the modern era.
The truth is that players face genuine dilemmas. They are employees who can be sold or released at their employer’s discretion, yet are expected to show unwavering commitment to clubs that may discard them whenever it’s convenient. When clubs show little loyalty to players, as fans, should we expect players to demonstrate loyalty in return? The reality is that the relationship has become transactional on both sides, with each party prioritising their own interests.
Managers: The Shortest Tenure in Sports
The Rob Edwards case we mentioned at the start of this article is symptomatic of a broader pattern in English football management: jobs are precarious, loyalties are fluid, and self-interest often prevails. Managers face immense pressure to deliver immediate results, knowing that a few bad results can cost them their position. In this environment, taking a better opportunity when it arises can seem like simple pragmatism rather than disloyalty.
Edwards’ reasoning for joining Wolves was rooted in personal history, having played for and coached at the club previously. Yet this explanation rang hollow for Middlesbrough supporters who had embraced him during his brief tenure. The manner of his departure, standing down from the Birmingham City match while negotiations progressed, suggested his mind was already elsewhere even as his team competed for promotion.
Managerial loyalty has become increasingly rare at all levels. In the Premier League, the average managerial tenure has fallen dramatically over the past two decades. Few managers now stay at a single club for more than three years, and those who do are considered remarkable exceptions rather than the norm. The pressure for immediate success means that both clubs and managers are constantly looking over their shoulders, ready to make a change if results falter or better opportunities emerge.
There are notable exceptions that prove long-term commitment can still work. Arsène Wenger spent 22 years at Arsenal, becoming synonymous with the club despite difficult later years. Sir Alex Ferguson’s 26 years at Manchester United created the most successful period in the club’s history. Similarly, Eddie Howe’s loyalty to Bournemouth through multiple promotions earned him legendary status before his eventual departure. These examples show that when loyalty is reciprocated and patience is exercised, remarkable things can be achieved.
Yet even these examples have nuances. You might remember that Ferguson was almost sacked early in his tenure before turning things around. Wenger probably stayed too long, presiding over a decline in his final years. The point is that long-term loyalty requires sustainable success, and of course, success is never guaranteed. Managers know this, which is why they are quick to jump ship when better opportunities arise.
The Edwards situation stands out particularly because of the short amount of time involved, but it is not unique. Roberto Mancini left Galatasaray for Inter Milan mid-season in 2014. Roberto Di Matteo left MK Dons for West Bromwich Albion after just 13 games. Antonio Conte has developed a reputation for brief, intense periods at clubs before departures that often turn acrimonious. Each case involves complex factors, but the pattern is clear: managers prioritise career advancement, just as clubs prioritise their own interests.
From a manager’s perspective, loyalty can be a dangerous luxury. Clubs will sack managers without hesitation when results decline, so why should managers turn down better opportunities out of sentimentality? The Edwards case is simply the latest example of this in action, where personal ambition and the allure of the Premier League trumped any sense of obligation to the club and supporters who had invested their faith in him.
Supporters: The True Believers?
If loyalty has become scarce elsewhere in English football, it remains abundant in the stands and on the terraces. Supporters are, without question, the soul of their clubs, demonstrating unwavering commitment through generations, often regardless of success or failure, boardroom chaos or on-pitch disasters. Unlike owners, players, and managers, fans cannot simply walk away when things get difficult. Their loyalty is unconditional, forged through family tradition, community identity, and emotional investment that transcends any rational calculation.
Consider the loyalty of football supporters at clubs that have faced existential crises. When Bury FC was expelled from the English Football League in 2019, fans launched campaigns to save the club and maintain its legacy. Supporters of Coventry City endured years of exile from their home city, travelling to Northampton and Birmingham to watch their team. Derby County fans maintained their backing through administration, points deductions, and the threat of liquidation. In each case, the loyalty of supporters never wavered, even when the clubs themselves seemed determined to self-destruct.
This loyalty is particularly ironic given how little it is reciprocated. Supporters pay increasing ticket prices for the privilege of watching their teams, yet most have virtually no say in how clubs are run. They endure managerial changes they disagree with, player sales that break their hearts, and ownership decisions that seem to prioritise profit over tradition.
The relationship between clubs and fans has become increasingly one-sided, with supporters expected to show blind loyalty. In contrast, clubs often treat them as just customers to be monetised rather than stakeholders to be respected.
This is perhaps an extreme view, though; many modern football fans recognise that football clubs are businesses and, as such, sometimes decisions have to be made, such as selling a top player, to finance the club’s running. This is particularly true for clubs below the top division, but it is also a confirmed strategy for some of the smaller Premier League outfits, too.
The modern football fan faces a difficult choice: continue supporting a club that shows little loyalty in return, or walk away and abandon something central to their identity. Most choose to stay because their loyalty is not conditional on much in return. It is often deeply personal, rooted in memories, relationships, and a sense of belonging that cannot be replicated elsewhere.
Middlesbrough supporters’ reaction to Rob Edwards’ departure exemplifies this dynamic. Despite feeling betrayed by his swift exit, they rallied behind the team in the next match, displaying banners and chanting messages that made their disappointment clear. Their loyalty was to the club itself, not to any individual manager or player. This is the essence of fan loyalty: it transcends the personalities involved and connects to something more profound and much more enduring.
Of course, there are limits. Some supporters do eventually walk away, disillusioned by repeated betrayals or cynical ownership. The protests against the Glazers at Manchester United, the fan campaigns against various ownership groups, and the creation of phoenix clubs like AFC Wimbledon all demonstrate that even fan loyalty can be exhausted if taken for granted too many times.
The tragedy is that supporters are the one group in football who genuinely embody loyalty, yet generally, they are the group with the least power and the least appreciation. Players leave for bigger clubs, managers chase better opportunities, owners treat clubs as investments, but fans remain constant. They are the lifeblood of the game, and their loyalty deserves to be honoured rather than exploited.

Conclusion: A Game Without Loyalty?
The Rob Edwards saga at Middlesbrough is not an aberration but rather a microcosm of modern English football. It reveals uncomfortable truths about the state of the game: managers prioritise career advancement over commitment, players pursue ambition and wages over sentiment, clubs view employees as disposable assets, and only supporters demonstrate genuine, unconditional loyalty.
I suppose the big question is, can we really condemn individuals for acting in their own self-interest? Perhaps not. Managers face precarious employment where loyalty to a club may not be reciprocated if results decline. Players have short careers and must maximise their opportunities while they can. Owners operate in a fiercely competitive commercial environment where sentimentality can mean financial ruin. From each perspective, their actions can be rationalised.
Yet, for many people, rationalisation does not equal justification. You could argue that there is something fundamentally troubling about a sport in which everyone except supporters treats their relationship with clubs purely transactionally. Football was traditionally built on community, passion, and shared identity, not on contracts, compensation packages, and career optimisation. When these latter concerns overwhelm the former entirely, the game loses something essential.
The question is not whether loyalty still exists in English football, because clearly it does among the supporters who are the game’s foundation. The real questions are, did it ever exist? Surely such dodgy contract dealings went on in the past; human nature suggests so, but we probably didn’t hear about them so much in a less connected world, and whether anyone else in the football ecosystem actually values loyalty enough to practice it themselves.
On current evidence, the answer appears to be no. Until clubs, players, and managers recognise that their own behaviour sets the tone for the entire sport, and until they understand that loyalty should be a two-way street, supporters will continue to be the only true believers in a game that increasingly takes their devotion for granted. As supporters, do we just accept our place in the “food chain”? Will it matter if nothing changes?
The Rob Edwards case may fade from memory as football’s relentless news cycle churns forward, but the issues it raises will remain. English football must confront a fundamental truth: a game without loyalty is merely a business, and businesses do not inspire the passion and devotion that make football the beautiful game. Whether anything will change remains to be seen.
What are your thoughts? Does loyalty still have a place in modern football, or has the game moved beyond such romantic notions? Share your views and experiences in the comments below.
John Herman is a Leeds-based, would-be football writer and founder of Football Nonsense. Blending fan passion with sharp opinion, he tackles the game’s biggest debates—from the terraces to the boardroom—with honesty, humour, and heart.