The ultimate side hustle in non-league football
Forget your multi-club models. Forget your sovereign wealth funds and your private equity vampires. King’s Lynn Town just dropped the hardest news of the season, and it has absolutely nothing to do with a tactical revolution or a marquee signing. Michael Clunan, the man who usually spends his Saturdays crunching tackles in the middle of the park, is now the guy crunching the numbers in the boardroom. He is the interim CEO. While you're complaining about your two-hour Zoom calls, this absolute madlad is literally playing the game and running the business at the same time.
It sounds like something out of a fever dream or a particularly ambitious Football Manager save where you forgot to hire any staff and ended up doing everything yourself. The BBC reported that Clunan is taking on the role temporarily while the club figures its life out. This is peak non-league. This is the beautiful game stripped of its shiny, corporate veneer and replaced with the kind of grit that involves checking the commercial revenue between sets of shuttle runs.
The internet, as you can imagine, has thoughts. And because this is football in 2026, those thoughts range from starry-eyed romanticism to the kind of cynical gloom usually reserved for a rain-soaked Tuesday night in Blyth. Let’s break down the madness of the Player-CEO and why this is the most non-league thing to happen since a dog ran on the pitch and actually defended a corner better than the center-back.
The Proper Football crowd is losing its mind
For the enthusiasts, this is the ultimate victory for the little guy. The sentiment on the forums is basically a collective 'finally, a suit who actually knows what a mud-caked shin pad feels like.' The romantic view is that Clunan is the antidote to the detached, spreadsheet-obsessed owners who have never stepped foot in a changing room. He knows the fans, he knows the players, and he definitely knows if the tea lady is overcharging for a Bovril.
One user on a popular non-league thread put it perfectly: 'Imagine having a CEO who actually understands why we’re annoyed about the 3 PM blackout because he’s literally on the pitch at 3 PM. Give him the job permanently and let him drive the bus too.'
There is a genuine sense of pride here. It feels like King’s Lynn is reclaiming the soul of the club. In an era where even some National League sides are trying to act like they’re mini-Manchester Citys with five-year strategic roadmaps and 'brand synergy' meetings, The Linnets have gone in the opposite direction. They’ve picked the guy with the captain's armband and said, 'You’re good with people, Michael. Go handle the VAT return while you’re icing that hamstring.'
The skeptics smell a financial dumpster fire
Of course, for every fan dreaming of a Clunan-led revolution, there’s a skeptic pointing out that this usually isn't how functional, healthy football clubs operate. The 'Financial Fair Play' warriors of Twitter were quick to jump on the news with the grace of a Roy Keane tackle. The prevailing theory from the contrarians is that this isn't a clever 'man of the people' move, but a sign that the bank account is looking more than a bit skeletal.
If you can’t afford a dedicated CEO, you’re usually in a spot of bother. People are already joking that the next announcement will be Clunan taking over as the club's accountant, physio, and head of social media. It’s funny until you realize the sheer workload. Imagine playing 90 minutes against a bunch of physical monsters on a Saturday, then having to wake up on Sunday to deal with a stadium maintenance crisis or a kit supplier who hasn't delivered the new socks.
The conflict of interest takes are also coming in thick and fast. How does a player-CEO negotiate his own contract? Does he just sit in front of a mirror and argue with himself until he agrees to a £0 signing bonus? What happens when the manager wants to drop him for a run of bad form? Does Clunan the CEO fire the manager for benching Clunan the midfielder? It’s a logistical paradox that would make Christopher Nolan’s head spin. The potential for a changing room disaster is through the roof. One bad performance and you aren't just the teammate who missed a sitter; you’re the boss who didn't pay for the heating in the showers.
My take: It is glorious, but it's also a massive red flag
Look, I love the vibes. I really do. There is something deeply satisfying about the idea of a midfielder having to walk into a boardroom straight after a game, still smelling of deep heat and sweat, to talk about local sponsorship deals with a used car salesman. It’s authentic. It’s gritty. It’s what makes the lower tiers of the English pyramid the best thing in sports. But let's be real for a second: this is a cry for help. A club in a stable position does not ask their midfielder to run the entire operation temporarily.
We have to look at the reality of non-league football in 2026. The gap between the EFL and the National League system is getting wider, and the costs are spiraling. For a club like King's Lynn to resort to this, it suggests they are cutting every possible corner to stay afloat. It’s a critical observation that needs to be made—while Clunan is a hero for stepping up, the fact that he *has* to step up is a worrying sign for the Linnets' long-term health. You can't run a professional organization on the 'good bloke' system forever.
The pressure on Clunan is going to be immense. He is essentially holding two of the most stressful jobs in the town simultaneously. He has to maintain 100% focus on the pitch to ensure they don't get sucked into a relegation scrap, while also ensuring the lights stay on and the staff get paid. It's a recipe for burnout. If he has one bad game, the fans won't just call him 'leggy'; they'll call him 'distracted by the utility bills.' It’s a thankless task that usually ends with everyone being unhappy.
The verdict from the bar stool
At the end of the day, Michael Clunan is the ultimate 'proper football' icon right now. He’s doing the work that nobody else wants to do for a club that clearly needs him. It’s the kind of story that reminds you why you fell in love with this game before it was all about xG and sovereign wealth funds. It’s human. It’s messy. It’s probably going to end in a chaotic mess of missed emails and misplayed passes, but for now, it’s the best thing on the news feed.
If I’m a King’s Lynn fan, I’m buying Clunan a pint every time I see him. But I’m also checking the club’s financial statements every morning with a trembling hand. This is a high-wire act with no safety net. Clunan is trying to be the engine room and the steering wheel at the same time. If he pulls it off, they should build him a statue. If he doesn't, well, at least he can't fire himself without a very awkward conversation in the locker room mirror.
Keep an eye on the Linnets' results over the next month. If they start winning, expect a wave of 'CEOs out, midfielders in' banners across the country. If they start losing, expect the most corporate, boring replacement CEO you’ve ever seen to be hired within 48 hours. Either way, Clunan is a legend for even trying. Just don't ask him to do the half-time raffle too. The man needs some rest.
