Thirteen years ago, I sat in an Upton Park press conference and watched a bewildered Glenn Roeder fumble with his vocabulary, trying to explain how a West Ham side containing half of the future England team had failed to beat a wretched Bolton.
He didn't have the words, but his eyes betrayed him. The glassy, thousand-yard stare screamed fear and confusion. He was a haunted, cornered animal. There was no way out.
David Moyes had that same stare at Old Trafford on Sunday.
He knows he's trapped. He knows his enemies are closing in, surrounding him, wounding him; mocking him. He knows he needs an urgent exit strategy.
But he's got nothing.
The poor man really has nothing left on the table. Where there should be a master plan for a great escape, there's just an empty scrap of paper.
Liverpool, Olympiakos and even Fulham and Stoke shouted out what no one really wanted to hear at Old Trafford.
A decent, respected, experienced small business owner is just not equipped to run Microsoft.
That's not an attack on Moyes. Different managers excel within different spheres of influence.
Tony Pulis is one of the best at what he does. He's Harvey Keitel's Wolf in Pulp Fiction. He fixes problems and cleans up messes.
Sam Allardyce is a master of no-nonsense mediocrity.
And Moyes is the fussy, micro-managing, book-keeping mini-mart owner.
Everything was in order at Everton, a no-frills enterprise to make the local community proud.
There was never going to be trophies, accolades or regular jaunts into Europe, but he performed his civic duties to the best of his abilities.
And now he's at Microsoft, trying to organise big deals like he's ordering maggi mee from the local vendor.
He arranges line-ups with all the creative flair of a discounted toilet roll display in a shop window.
Moyes is in the right industry, but crippled with the wrong skills set.
He's out of his depth, out of touch with his players, out of ideas and would already be out of a job if he was employed at any other club in the Premier league.
United's admirable loyalty might be a touching nod to the lengthy grace period famously granted Sir Alex Ferguson in his early years, but the comparison is apples and oranges.
Ferguson's early fumbling cost the club some communal pride - they hadn't won a title for years anyway. But there was little financial damage done.
Moyes' muddling will cost the club millions of dollars a week.