I watched as the soul of United slipped away—not through transfer fees, but through silence. After Anthony’s exit and Raph’s departure, the club became a portrait of what happens when passion is traded for data. This isn’t just about transfers; it’s about the absence of rhythm, the loss of heartbeat in football. I’ve seen it in Belo Horizonte’s backstreets and Old Trafford’s empty stands: a game that stopped speaking, and nobody noticed until it was too late.