In Erik ten Hag, Manchester United finally have a grownup in the room

T here was a funny moment at the end of this controlled, slow-burn, oddly inevitable Manchester United Wembley victory. As the final whistle blew and the players fell to their knees and shrieked and yelped, Diogo Dalot found himself running past the slender figure of Erik ten Hag, who was basically just standing there, hands still in his coat pockets.

Dalot howled and danced and flexed his neck muscles, apparently expecting some kind of answering victory frenzy. Ten Hag politely shook his hand. Dalot froze, yelped some more, then basically ran off.

Ten Hag did come on to the pitch. A bit later he was even seen dancing with Lisandro Martínez – under some duress, but gamely jigging from side to side, like a dad at a wedding disco submitting to the obligations of gaiety.

It felt like a fittingly hair-shirted moment, a note of slightly showy limelight-aversion at what was arguably – with all due apologies to the Dutch league – the greatest moment of his managerial career.

Football loves to deal in eras and cultures and wider sweeping narratives. What is so striking about Ten Hag’s success at United is that it has come quietly, in details and marginal gains, the sense of finally having a grownup in the room. How far can he take this thing?

It felt significant that this was a slightly undercooked final, without any obvious peaks or moments of jeopardy, decided by a set piece and an own goal in the first half. This is fine. Finals aren’t meant to be good. They’re meant to be won.

The most significant on-field presence was Casemiro, who was assertive and incisive at the base of midfield. The other key peg in this victory was Wout Weghorst, who led the attack in the opening half‑hour, and who really does seem to have his own