Louis van Gaal limps on. His limp United side limp out of another competition. His pathetic excuses never washed and still don't. His insipid football inspires only disgust. His tired philosophy sucks the joy out of the beautiful game.
Comparisons with his pitiful predecessor, David Moyes, are now wholly just, if not a little unfair on the Scot. Worse still, there are parallels with Moyes' darkest days at Manchester United appearing around every corner, haunting him like ghosts of failures past.
Moyes, too, experienced a humiliation on the road in Europe, when his United side lost to Olympiakos. The trouble is, Moyes' team turned things around, something Van Gaal's sorry bunch have failed to do - unless you count their victory in the second leg against FC Midtjylland in their previous Europa League round, which no one serious about football could.
No. Van Gaal's United, having lost 2-0 to Liverpool at Anfield after a performance so spineless, so bereft of spirit or fight, that Sir Matt Busby must have turned in his grave, and could only muster a few minutes of mildly meaningful football in the return leg at a packed but subdued, and ultimately bereft, Old Trafford.
Moyes, too, experienced the nightmare of defeat against United's most bitter rivals within the walls of the Theatre of Dreams - albeit Van Gaal's was over two legs. He, too, failed to grasp the magnitude of the loss, as Van Gaal did on Thursday night. He, too, failed to understand why United's fans continued to sing, despite the humiliation.
Under Moyes, United fans sang 'Twenty Times' relentlessly for almost half an hour, drowning out Liverpool's travelling support who, deep down, must have marvelled at the outpouring of their enemy's emotion, though they would never admit it. Under Van Gaal, it was less heartfelt, less rousing, more defeated.
The song was different on this night, the mood too. The United Calypso was sung with a sense of weary acceptance of the new world order. Still, the United fans that sung did so for their proud history, for Busby and his Babes, for past glories and future hopes, for the famous, fearless football of Ferguson, and as a means of lamenting what they see before them now - a club whose soul is being ripped out, whose identity is going up in smoke, whom no one fears any longer but who everyone mocks.
Van Gaal is by no means the only one to blame for United's shocking decline, but he is to blame for the deep sense of listlessness that has enveloped the club of late. Minds have been thoroughly numbed by the wretched football on show each and every week, to the point where fans, while deeply troubled by what they see, are at a loss as to what to do about it. They stopped looking forward to matches long ago, the sense of escapism football used to offer a thing of the past.
The contrast between the two managers on Thursday could not have been more stark. Louis van Gaal, pen and pad in hand, rooted to his seat, while Jurgen Klopp kicked every ball and lived every moment, a bundle of energy on the touchline. Such enthusiasm, however much of it is for show, must filter through a team and spur players on to give that little bit more. What on earth happened to the Van Gaal that once did Kung-fu kicks on the sideline and, as recently as the World Cup in Brazil, celebrated and gesticulated with gusto?
Moyes faced Manchester City shortly after his home defeat to Liverpool, and lost. Van Gaal faces them on Sunday. United fans have no confidence whatsoever that their team will this time prevail, despite City suffering their own slump. Such is the mood around Old Trafford.
Fans will be around long after these current players are gone, and long after Van Gaal is a distant memory. It is they who keep the traditions of the club alive, despite the likes of Van Gaal betraying them with his bland brand of football.
United's lame duck of a manager should have been given his marching orders long ago. Alas, as with Moyes, Van Gaal has been left to limp on, leaving the club's season in tatters, and the fans in a state of despair once more.
