It’s official — Cardiff City are going down.
After a dismal 0-0 draw with West Brom sealed their fate, the Bluebirds will play in League One next season for the first time in over two decades. But let’s not pretend this came as a shock. The real surprise is that it took this long. While the team have flirted with danger in recent years — finishing 18th in 2021/22 and 21st last season — their eventual relegation in 2024/25 feels less like a dramatic collapse and more like the inevitable conclusion of a slow, avoidable decline.
For years, the club has been treading water, patched up by short-term fixes, reactive appointments and vague promises of long-term planning. But the common denominator throughout this unraveling has been ownership. Under Vincent Tan’s stewardship, Cardiff have been directionless, unstable and more often than not, a shadow of the club that once dared to challenge for top-flight relevance.
Here’s why this relegation has been years in the making.
A Dysfunctional Club Structure From Top to Bottom
Perhaps the most damning indictment of Cardiff City’s recent history is that it is hard to define who, exactly, is responsible for footballing decisions. In most successful clubs, roles are clearly defined: a sporting director, a head of recruitment, a long-term vision with accountability at every step. Cardiff? Chaos.
The absence of a proper footballing hierarchy has been staggering. Aaron Ramsey himself alluded to it after relegation, noting the lack of a “head of football or sporting director” — a telling quote from a man who has played at clubs like Arsenal and Juventus. For large stretches of last season, Darren Purse — while a respected former player — was the most experienced football figure in a non-playing capacity. No disrespect to Purse, but that’s nowhere near good enough for a Championship club.
A Legacy of Poor Managerial Decisions
Cardiff’s managerial carousel under Vincent Tan has been nothing short of dizzying. From the ill-fated sacking of Malky Mackay — who had delivered Premier League promotion — to the revolving door of ill-matched replacements, there’s been little evidence of a long-term vision.
Take this season: three managers in a single campaign. Erol Bulut started the season, was quickly replaced by Omer Riza, who then made way for Aaron Ramsey in a desperate last throw of the dice. This is not stability — it’s chaos.
Each managerial appointment seemed to exist in isolation from the last, as though decisions were made on a whim rather than according to any overarching plan. This constant chopping and changing has led to inconsistent playing styles, morale-sapping performances and a squad left confused about its identity and purpose.
A Transfer Policy With No Direction
A club’s transfer strategy is a mirror of its footballing philosophy — if Cardiff’s dealings in recent seasons are anything to go by, their reflection is a broken one.
There have been some hits: Isaak Davies, Rubin Colwill, and Ollie Tanner have all shown promise. But they’ve been outweighed by an endless stream of short-term loanees, ageing squad-fillers and unfulfilled prospects. The signings haven’t fit a clear system, and there’s been little effort to build a core group that could evolve and grow together.
At times, the decision-making has bordered on the farcical. Under Tan’s influence, the club once famously hired a 23-year-old Kazakh with no recruitment experience to replace Iain Moody as head of recruitment — a man who had helped bring in the likes of Steven Caulker and Gary Medel. It’s decisions like these, made on impulse or out of favouritism, that have come back to haunt Cardiff.
Vincent Tan’s Toxic Legacy
Ultimately, this is a club that has been defined by its absentee owner. Vincent Tan, once a symbol of ambition, has long since become synonymous with dysfunction.
From the baffling red kit rebrand to questioning why David Marshall wasn’t scoring goals, Tan’s time at Cardiff has been littered with decisions that betray a fundamental misunderstanding of football. His public statements are rare, his matchday appearances even rarer. His relationship with the fans? Non-existent. His control over club operations? Total.
While he’s pumped millions into the club and reportedly written off large swathes of debt, money alone does not excuse poor leadership. In fact, it has often papered over the cracks rather than addressed the structural problems at the heart of the club.
There’s no transparency. There’s no visible plan. And there’s no engagement with the supporters, who have every right to feel alienated by an ownership that appears more interested in self-preservation than progress.
Where Do They Go From Here?
Despite everything, hope still flickers. Cardiff City remains a sleeping giant at League One level — a strong fan base, a top-class stadium and a rich footballing heritage. The relegation, as painful as it is, offers the chance for a much-needed reset.
But it must be meaningful. Not just a new manager, but a new model. A sporting director. A philosophy. An environment where managers are supported, young players are nurtured, and supporters are respected.
Because until those things happen — until Cardiff City becomes a football club again rather than a mismanaged holding company — the risk of further decline remains.
The fans deserve better. The city deserves better. And now, finally, the club has no choice but to change.
