When Harry Redknapp was asked the question this week whether he would contemplate returning to West Ham the laughter it elicited was not dissimilar to that delivered by the regional manager of Liverpool's McDonalds when offered a cardboard cut-out of Joey Barton for his window.

Portsmouth's manager is precisely that, so why on earth would he consider quitting the haven of sanctuary that is Fratton Park for an East End return more ill-advised than Dirty Den's? In times of change, when Crewe's constituency are voting in the Tories and Jay-Z is playing the Glastonbury main stage, why would Harry sacrifice what is fast becoming a privileged position of being able to pick his own players, to have the fancies of others festooned upon him?

What has happened this week in English football has illuminated the industry's worst kept secret: the role of the manager is changing. And not for the better.

An Oxford Dictionary definition

man-ag-er

- noun 1. a person who has control or direction of an institution, business, etc., or of a part, division, or phase of it.

2. a person who manages: the manager of our track team.

3. a person who controls and manipulates resources and expenditures, as of a household.

football man-ag-er

- noun 1. a person who has scant control or direction of an institution, business, etc., or of a part, division, or phase of it.

2. a person who manages under the jurisdiction of an owner who possesses an excess of money, a dearth of sense. And an ego.

3. a person who is controlled and manipulated, with limited resources and expenditures, as of a football club.

Old school

Curbishley's exit at West Ham has an almost old-school charm though, it's positively quaint when placed in comparison to Kevin Keegan's ousting at Newcastle; a resignation that has elicited sympathy from not just those that wear barcodes but the whole of the football fraternity.

Having players sold without a manager's knowledge dates back to when football club owners were glorified car lot owners, wheeler dealers who dealt in brown paper bags and wore sheepskin coats and sovereigns. To think, this bygone era, resurrected by the Hammers via the sales of Anton Ferdinand and George McCartney, is now regarded as a halcyon time up at Newcastle, where Mike Ashley can sleep at night only in the knowledge he is merely the second most unpopular man in the city. Maybe Dennis' appointment was wise after all.

The main problem at West Ham was not just that they needed to balance the books after the excesses of Eggert Magnusson's tenure, but a wilting faith in Curbishley's ability to work the transfer market. A tenth-placed finish last season after inheriting a squad heading in only one direction on his arrival should have earned him time and finances, but then to be fair, letting someone else spend your money is never easy.

Which is why, in the interests of giving football club owners not just a buffer between themselves and the manager but also the supporters, a director of football or in the case of Dennis Wise, an Executive Director (Football) is appointed. In the modern workplace they are nothing new. Mr Burns had one in The Simpsons and one can imagine Mr Ashley booming out Smithers!, whenever he needed someone to tell Kev he can't have Stephen Warnock but a deal is all but done for Malaga's third choice Algerian left-back.

Business models

When a businessman buys a football club the first thing he does is take stock. The books will be audited and the roles of each member of the organisation scrutinised and evaluated to bring the most from each position. It is no surprise therefore that when successful businessmen look at the way clubs are run, from an outsiders' perspective, they arrive at the conclusion changes are needed. Football is a huge global business but the savviest owners realise that it is a unique business and the best way to run such an enterprise is to have at its head an all-seeing, all-powerful manager.

The omnipresent Sir Alex Ferguson and Arsene Wenger are the last of a dying breed and look at their results. On a lesser scale so is Redknapp, who continues to propel Portsmouth forward by having complete control over who is bought and to an extent, who is sold. Chelsea won their first title for fifty years and retained it by having the buck stop with Jose Mourinho and tellingly, it was only when owner Roman Abramovich felt the need to bring in Avram Grant and Frank Arnesen as transfer facilitators, did his empire start to show signs of weakness.

There is of course a need to have sharp minds handling what are often delicate and complicated transfers and contracts but having someone deal with the legal aspects of a transaction is very different to having people identify the players in the first place. Are there really sharper football minds out there than Ferguson, Wenger or Mourinho? Indeed, can Wise really spot a player better than Keegan? The role of the director of football is very much a continental way of working, but then that's why on the continent 'coaches' are employed rather than 'managers'.

Both Ferguson and Keegan would be the first to admit their strengths do not lie on the training field, but rather with managing and bringing the best out of players, their players. But how do you manage a player you don't want? How do you fit into your own tactical system a player brought in on the imagination of another?

There is a story, most probably borne more from mischief than fact that came out of the transfer epicentre that is White Hart Lane, which is nonetheless illuminating. Then manager Martin Jol was reportedly talking over possible transfer targets with director of football Daniel Comolli and mused he 'could do with a ball-winning midfielder - someone like George Boateng'. The Dutchman returned to pre-season training to find Kevin-Prince Boateng, a showy midfielder from Germany, at his disposal. Not longer after, Jol was sacked before his replacement Juande Ramos conducted a reshuffle of his playing pack. Boateng, along with fellow Comolli recommendations Ricardo Rocha and Adel Taarabt, have not been given a squad number this season.

Thin line

Scenes of outrage in the North East over Keegan's resignation have not reached such levels since a group of vigilantes in Wales vandalised a paediatrician's home because they thought she took an unhealthy interest in children, but meddling of a similar variety has been greeted with scenes of jubilation in Manchester.

Arab investment at Eastlands has seen Manchester City smash the British transfer record in bringing in Robinho, while the club's new owner Dr Sulaiman Al-Fahim has also fluttered his eyelashes in the direction of Fernando Torres, Cesc Fabregas and Cristiano Ronaldo. The blue side of Manchester is understandably elated but what of Mark Hughes' perspective? Does he feel Robinho is the best way to spend £32million or is his smile more pursed in the manner of receiving a jumper from your Aunt at Christmas that is perfectly pleasant, but just isn't quite you?

Which is why it's more fun to be a fan than manager/owner/director of football. Dennis Wise, a former England international who enjoyed a successful albeit brief managerial career, is charged with the task of bringing in players to Newcastle and he's cast as a meddling anti-Christ. An Arab businessman does exactly the same at Manchester City and he's the club's saviour.

It's a thin line and I'm glad Mike Ashley has to cross it rather than me.

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