It didn't take the Pro League long this season to reopen a file Jordanian football fans have grown used to seeing every year: the file of coaches and technical staff sackings.

Just three rounds were enough to produce the league's first two dismissals, after Al-Hussein parted ways with head coach Ahmad Hayel, and Al-Wehdat did the same with head coach Wasim Al-Bzour, following a in form and results that fell short of both clubs' fan expectations.

What stands out is that we're not talking about inexperienced coaches or unfamiliar names, but about coaches with real standing, experience and a track record — which brings back the more important question: has the coach genuinely become the weakest link in Jordanian football?

This isn't a new scene. Nearly every season tells the same story: a shaky start, angry fans, mounting pressure, and then the first change on the board's table is the technical staff.

What's new this season is how early the 'coaching guillotine' fell — as if clubs no longer give a coach even enough room to build his team or reach the chemistry needed, especially since early rounds usually bring lineup changes, new signings and differences in ideas and approach, all things that need time to mature on the pitch.

To be fair, not every dismissal belongs in the 'mistake' column — there are cases where a technical change is justified once mistakes pile up, no progress shows, and keeping the status quo becomes costlier than changing it.

But the problem here looks bigger than one dismissal decision here or there — it's tied to how the coaching file is managed in the first place. Often, the coach finds himself out front even when the real causes of a slump are beyond his control: the quality of signings, injuries, individual errors, delayed registration, or even administrative and financial issues that directly affect the team's stability.

Even so, the coach remains the easiest name to point to in front of the fans, and the quickest to offer up as a scapegoat to absorb their anger. Fans want results — that's their right — and management wants to protect its team and calm the stands. But football isn't always built on a logic of reaction.

What's stranger still is that dealing with a local coach seems, in some cases, easier: letting him go can be a quick decision, while a foreign coach sometimes gets more room — not necessarily because of results alone, but also because of the high financial cost of his contract and what ending it entails. That raises a paradox worth discussing: is a coach's worth measured by his nationality, or by his work?

If a local coach gets fewer chances to be patiently backed, then the problem isn't the coach alone — it's an entire system that needs rethinking, from how the head coach is chosen, to how goals are set, performance evaluated, and responsibilities defined. Everyone knows a coach isn't a magician who can transform an entire team within weeks — but he isn't blameless either when performance is weak.

But when the coach becomes a ready-made scapegoat for every crisis, that means the problem will keep repeating itself no matter how many names cycle through the job. Just three rounds have passed, and two coaches have already left the scene. The next one may prove calmer, or may face even more turbulence — but the real question remains: are we looking at a genuine shift in the thinking behind our Jordanian football, or standing at the threshold of a scenario just like the ones we've seen in seasons past?

It didn't take the Pro League long this season to reopen a file Jordanian football fans have grown used to seeing every year: the file of coaches and technical staff sackings.

Just three rounds were enough to produce the league's first two dismissals, after Al-Hussein parted ways with head coach Ahmad Hayel, and Al-Wehdat did the same with head coach Wasim Al-Bzour, following a in form and results that fell short of both clubs' fan expectations.

What stands out is that we're not talking about inexperienced coaches or unfamiliar names, but about coaches with real standing, experience and a track record — which brings back the more important question: has the coach genuinely become the weakest link in Jordanian football?

This isn't a new scene. Nearly every season tells the same story: a shaky start, angry fans, mounting pressure, and then the first change on the board's table is the technical staff.

What's new this season is how early the 'coaching guillotine' fell — as if clubs no longer give a coach even enough room to build his team or reach the chemistry needed, especially since early rounds usually bring lineup changes, new signings and differences in ideas and approach, all things that need time to mature on the pitch.

To be fair, not every dismissal belongs in the 'mistake' column — there are cases where a technical change is justified once mistakes pile up, no progress shows, and keeping the status quo becomes costlier than changing it.

But the problem here looks bigger than one dismissal decision here or there — it's tied to how the coaching file is managed in the first place. Often, the coach finds himself out front even when the real causes of a slump are beyond his control: the quality of signings, injuries, individual errors, delayed registration, or even administrative and financial issues that directly affect the team's stability.

Even so, the coach remains the easiest name to point to in front of the fans, and the quickest to offer up as a scapegoat to absorb their anger. Fans want results — that's their right — and management wants to protect its team and calm the stands. But football isn't always built on a logic of reaction.

What's stranger still is that dealing with a local coach seems, in some cases, easier: letting him go can be a quick decision, while a foreign coach sometimes gets more room — not necessarily because of results alone, but also because of the high financial cost of his contract and what ending it entails. That raises a paradox worth discussing: is a coach's worth measured by his nationality, or by his work?

If a local coach gets fewer chances to be patiently backed, then the problem isn't the coach alone — it's an entire system that needs rethinking, from how the head coach is chosen, to how goals are set, performance evaluated, and responsibilities defined. Everyone knows a coach isn't a magician who can transform an entire team within weeks — but he isn't blameless either when performance is weak.

But when the coach becomes a ready-made scapegoat for every crisis, that means the problem will keep repeating itself no matter how many names cycle through the job. Just three rounds have passed, and two coaches have already left the scene. The next one may prove calmer, or may face even more turbulence — but the real question remains: are we looking at a genuine shift in the thinking behind our Jordanian football, or standing at the threshold of a scenario just like the ones we've seen in seasons past?