If you look at it from a distance, it’s quite astounding that the situation at Liverpool is being boiled down to a simple dichotomy: Mohamed Salah versus Arne Slot. This isn’t just about who is justified or reasonable, but also about who should be the one to initiate contact, with Slot asserting Tuesday night, «I haven’t said I’m not going to speak with him. The question is whether the first move should come from me or him…»
This whole dynamic feels almost juvenile, reminiscent of childhood disputes, with fans and media taking on the role of guardians. Slot emerges as the strict teacher blaming little Mo for poor academic performance and sending him out of the classroom, leaving the student to voice his complaints to his guardians. Alternatively, you could view Salah as the entitled child, refusing to accept responsibility for his disturbances, whining to his guardians in hopes of getting the stern Mr. Slot removed — or at very least reprimanded. Consequently, you find yourself waiting to see who will make the first move toward the figurative «air-clearing conversations,» hoping it culminates in a joyful reconciliation.
However, there’s a crucial party missing from this equation. A figure who is compensated for making pivotal decisions, whose choices have contributed — though indirectly and sincerely — to the existing standstill, a person Salah likely hinted at during his outburst, and most significantly, someone who will ultimately determine how this matter will be settled.
That entity is the club itself. More precisely, in the context of soccer, Michael Edwards, whose role is CEO of Football, and Richard Hughes, the sporting director.
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Apart from a few short statements expressing their support for Slot — which was expected — they have been conspicuously silent. While that might strike some soccer cultures as odd, in England, for better or worse, it’s customary: Individuals in such roles typically don’t make their voices heard. (Though maybe they should.)
Nevertheless, on a larger scale, they must acknowledge their role in leading to this situation, just as Slot and Salah must.
Salah didn’t claim the «manager» betrayed him; he indicated that it was the «club.» He didn’t mention the «manager» making him various assurances over the summer; he referenced the «club,» which he asserts «hasn’t fulfilled those commitments.» Salah shared that his rapport with Slot used to be «good,» but now they «don’t have any interactions» and he doesn’t understand why. Yet, he adds that «someone doesn’t want me at the club.»
Could it be that he’s referring to Slot the whole time but using «club» as a shorthand? It’s possible, though that seems somewhat odd. Mark it under «known unknowns.»
The more compelling topic is his mention of «promises made during the summer.»
It’s safe to eliminate the possibility that the «promise» was something along the lines of, «Mo, you’ve contributed so much to the club, don’t worry about Hugo Ekitike, Florian Wirtz, and Alexander Isak, or anyone else… You’re a club legend, and you will be starting every single match.» We can dismiss that notion since no manager (or club) would extend such a guarantee, and even if they did, no player would be naive enough to take it literally.
Especially considering Salah was less than 100 days away from free agency, only finalizing his two-year contract extension on April 11, 2025, which was less than eight months ago. This conveyed a clear signal from the club: We value you, we appreciate your contributions, and we wish for you to stay, but it will be on our terms because you’re not irreplaceable, you’re not above the club, and we can foresee a future without you.
More likely, the «promise» (or perhaps a more appropriate word would be «strategy») was that Salah would integrate into a 4-2-3-1 formation with new fullbacks, Wirtz positioned at No.10, and a new center forward, with the expectation that this system would function effectively and yield results. Clearly, that hasn’t been the case. Slot has had to constantly adjust his lineups, experimenting with various configurations and personnel — the latest being the diamond midfield and two-forwards arrangement without Salah (and initially, without Wirtz as well) that we witnessed in Liverpool’s 1-0 Champions League win against Inter on Tuesday night.
Who is accountable for the plan/promise and acquisitions? It was definitely not Slot acting alone: It was Edwards and Hughes working together with Slot and, likely, others. They were also the ones who made the critical decision to extend Salah’s contract (as well as club captain Virgil van Dijk) in the spring as well.
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Why Nicol believes ‘all that have done for the club’ is Salah’s most outrageous comment
Steve Nicol discusses why Mohamed Salah’s ‘all that have done for the club’ remark is outrageous.
Now, these individuals are intelligent with a solid track record; they are not naïve individuals collecting real-life Panini stickers of athletes. They envisioned a pathway, and presumably, so did Slot. They believed the manager could implement it successfully. They assumed that while there might be challenges along the way — competition for positions, beginning with center forward following the arrivals of Ekitike and Isak, and some players possibly feeling dissatisfied with their playing time, with a few egos perhaps bruised — they would possess the emotional intelligence and man-management abilities to work through it.
However, even clever individuals sometimes miscalculate. Recruitment and squad management are not foolproof sciences. (Take the backline as an example, where they failed to secure their desired central defender after Marc Guéhi’s deadline-day indecision at Crystal Palace and couldn’t execute their backup strategy, assuming they had one. If Guéhi had indeed joined, one might wonder whether it would have been Van Dijk or Ibrahima Konaté facing bench time instead.)
That’s where the error lies, and where, you might assume, the club’s owners and upper management will hold them responsible. Liverpool facing such significant struggles was a distant possibility. Salah being sidelined was an even more distant possibility within that broader context. And Salah’s emotional outburst was an even more remote scenario among all these possibilities. Yet, it occurred — all of it — and now they must confront it.
What remains uncertain is the extent to which everyone supported the plan, how confident they were about its success, and to what degree they believed they could manage the worst-case scenario (which is essentially this one). We don’t possess this information, but there are individuals at Liverpool who do know. And they will be drawing lessons from this situation.
What cannot happen is to place all the blame on Slot, either as a hero for the club or, if you belong to the Salah camp, the villain of the piece. The era of the all-powerful, all-knowing manager like Sir Alex Ferguson is long over. However, the time is also past — something Liverpool fans will recall — when the manager (Brendan Rodgers back then) and the so-called transfer committee appeared to operate independently from one another.
Serious and well-managed organizations — Liverpool Football Club is one such entity — rely on accountability, shared responsibility, and the recognition that judgment errors will occur (and sometimes, mistakes may lead to long-term success). Sure, it’s easier to simplify this down to just Salah and Slot. Cast off one and then do the same with the other if necessary. But this dilemma is far more intricate. It arose collectively and must be addressed collectively.
