An orthodoxy has been allowed to flourish in football in recent years that anger is good. Its champion is Roy Keane, who was always angry as a player and is always angry as a pundit.
His despair at the pusillanimity of modern football plays well with some of us because we fear that the money that has washed over the Premier League has dulled the hunger in players and managers. Anger is seen, by some, as proof that hunger has survived.
And so, a few weeks ago, when Chelsea manager Graham Potter did not rage and rant and scream when his team were denied a penalty in a high-pressure game at West Ham, when his eyes did not bulge and his veins did not pop, when he did not yell at the fourth official and fleck his face with spittle, he was criticised by a series of analysts for not being angry enough.