A masterclass in public relations disaster
Usually, when a national team gets absolutely dismantled in a World Cup fixture, the fallout involves a somber press conference and some polite buzzwords about building for the future. Not for Tunisia. They chose to light their own house on fire via Twitter on Sunday night after suffering a 5-1 shellacking at the hands of Sweden.
The Tunisian federation officially announced the departure of manager Sabri Lamouchi on their social media channels, only to delete the post shortly after. This is not how you run a professional organization. It is the tactical equivalent of a defensive midfielder trying a step-over in his own six-yard box and tripping over his own boots.
The timeline of the debacle
Let’s look at the facts. Tunisia walked into whatever stadium in Mexico they were playing in and got systematically picked apart by a Swedish side that looked clinical. When you lose by four goals, the temperature on the manager's seat hits the boiling point instantly.
Whatever internal power struggle took place must have been frantic. Someone pulled the trigger on the firing announcement, likely while the adrenaline of the defeat was still pumping, only for a cooler head—or perhaps a lawyer—to realize they hadn't actually sat down to negotiate the contract termination details.
You cannot simply decide to fire a manager on a whim like you are rage-quitting a match of FIFA. The process requires paperwork, notification, and a modicum of dignity. Deleting the post suggests a total breakdown in communication between the federation brass and their digital team.
Tactical negligence on and off the pitch
Watching Tunisia try to handle the Swedish attack was painful. The marking was loose, the transition play was nonexistent, and the energy looked depleted. It was a 5-1 scoreline that actually flattered them, honestly.
If you are a fan, you are probably wondering if the team has checked out entirely. Sending out a termination notice on public channels before the manager even clears his desk is a massive sign of a fractured locker room. As reported by the Mirror, this specific maneuver is as messy as it gets.
Management incompetence usually stays behind closed doors. We see the bad subs, the weird tactical shifts to a three-man backline that offers zero protection, and the glaring inability to track runners. But this? This is next-level ineptitude. It screams a lack of oversight that goes all the way to the top.
Is there a path forward?
Maybe Sabri Lamouchi is actually finished. Maybe he isn't. At this point, the federation has successfully managed to alienate their players, mock their coaching staff, and confuse their entire fanbase within a sixty-minute window.
If I am a player in that squad, I am looking at my phone in the locker room and wondering who is actually steering the ship. You cannot expect a clean sheet or a structured performance when the people signing your checks are actively panic-posting on the internet.
We have seen teams struggle before, but this is a special kind of internal collapse. They are currently the laughing stock of their group. Until they address the manager's status with actual, clear communication—not a "whoops, deleted that" moment—they are going to get rolled in their next match regardless of who is standing on the touchline.
