This was the end for Michael Carrick after his gang of the damned were relentlessly dismantled 3-0 by Bournemouth... he will be the next to walk into Man United's endless winter, writes OLIVER HOLT

The yellowed leaves fell from the trees and danced and skittered across the forecourt at Old Trafford. Squalls battered the old stadium and Manchester United supporters bowed their heads into the winds of Storm Boelo. These are the rites of autumn and, in this part of the city, they double as chronicles of deaths foretold.

In the great churn of unfortunates who have occupied the manager’s position at United since Sir Alex Ferguson’s retirement in May 2013, October, November and December is the favoured sacking season. Jose Mourinho, Ole Gunnar Solskjaer and Erik ten Hag have all met their fates as the branches have been stripped bare.

Now, it was Michael Carrick’s turn. This was the end for him. There can be little doubt about that. The United boss, a favourite son of the fans here when he was a player, a decent, modest, self-effacing man, stood on the touchline in a coat of funereal black, his arms folded in front of him, his face set in a desperate grimace as he watched his gang of the damned being relentlessly dismantled by Bournemouth.

It was hard to watch, just as it had been hard to watch United humiliated by Como in the Champions League last week. The truth was obvious: this United is a rabble, a loose collection of over-entitled, overpaid, over-promoted and overdone losers who have done their bit to throw their boss under the bus.

It is easy to say but the way some of them played against Marco Rose’s intelligent, well-drilled, energetic team, they do not deserve to wear the United shirt. They are not fit for it. They are an embarrassment to it. This comprehensive 3-0 defeat left them in 16th place in the Premier League, one point above the relegation zone. It is where they deserve to be.

Carrick cannot survive this and, particularly, he cannot survive the manner of recent defeats. This was the end for him and it ought to be the end for some of the hapless club apparatchiks who let him down in the summer with their hopeless recruitment in the transfer window.

The club is in chaos, on and off the field. Bruno Fernandes, the club captain, was dropped after criticising Carrick in midweek. Lisandro Martinez, who was disciplined for criticising the club’s owners, did return against Bournemouth but only in the second half. He is a liability anyway.

This is not all on Carrick, though. In fact, in the list of those responsible for this shambles, he is low on the list. The Glazers, who have pillaged the club, are top of the list. Sir Jim Ratcliffe, the minority owner, who has overseen the descent into this mayhem, is next.

This is a club riven by dissent from top to bottom, a club that has declared war on its most loyal supporters by trying to accelerate the move away from season ticket holders towards tourists and day-trippers because money is king for this regime and season-ticket holders do not spend enough on match days.

It was little wonder that, as Bournemouth scored goal after goal, the supporters turned their ire on the owners and their much-trumpeted plans for a move away from Old Trafford. How empty and futile those plans seem when the club is in this state. ‘You can stick your new stadium up your arse,’ the Stretford End sang.

And so Carrick stood there in that black coat, arms folded, taking the brickbats. ‘You’re getting sacked in the morning,’ the Bournemouth fans yelled at him. Carrick and United are easy meat. ‘You’re going down with the City,’ they chanted delightedly as United melted away in front of them.

The first drama of the day had come before kick-off with the publication of the United teamsheet. It showed that Fernandes, the club captain and the man who has carried the team through many of the lean years at Old Trafford, had been dropped. Harry Maguire was named as skipper in his stead.

After his criticism of Carrick’s tactics following the humiliating Champions League defeat to Como last week, it was hardly a surprise that Fernandes paid the penalty. Carrick would have looked weak if he had started him. Carrick may be standing on a burning deck but he was still trying to reassert his authority amid the flames.

The chants against the Glazers and Ratcliffe started soon after kick-off. So did the Bournemouth chances. Rayan headed just wide from Bournemouth’s first corner and burst through on a breakaway only to drive his shot straight at a defender as United retreated in disarray.

Bournemouth failed to capitalise as the opportunities kept coming. When Marcus Tavernier escaped yet again down the left wing, he drove his cross straight into the arms of Senne Lammens but as United’s defenders remonstrated with each other, the Stretford End lost its patience and roared out its dismay at what was happening.

Ayden Heaven was lucky to escape with a yellow card for launching himself into the air and into a double-footed tackle that Evanilson skipped out of rather than risk serious injury. Then, from the resulting free kick eight minutes before half-time, Bournemouth took the lead that their play had deserved.

Justin Kluivert swung the ball to the back post and sailed over the massed ranks of the United defence to where Rayan was ghosting in. Rayan was unmarked. He met the ball on the volley with his left foot and rammed it past Lammens. United tried to complain about a foul but they had no grounds.

Five minutes later, Bournemouth doubled their lead. Leny Yoro slipped under pressure on the right side of the United box and Adrien Truffert pounced on the mistake and squared the ball to Tavernier. Tavernier completed the formalities, turning the ball past Lammens from close range.

Old Trafford erupted in a fusillade of boos. A black flag was lowered from the back of the first tier of the Stretford End that said, in red letters, ‘Standards’. The outline of the faces of Roy Keane, Eric Cantona and Bryan Robson were below it, symbols of better times and better players. ‘You’re getting sacked in the morning,’ the Bournemouth fans sang at Carrick.

United were dire. Djordje Petrovic did save well from Bryan Mbeumo just before the interval but it was a rare moment of threat. There were more groans from the crowd when Mason Mount’s corner failed miserably to clear the first defender. It was another symbol of a miserable half for the home team.

Things were still not bad enough to prompt Carrick to call on Fernandes. Maybe nothing would have been. He did bring Matheus Cunha on for Youri Tielemans but Evanilson had a goal disallowed for offside seconds after the restart. Bournemouth should have been three up a couple of minutes later. Rayan, one-on-one with Lammens, hit the ball too close to the goalkeeper.

But United barely posed a threat. They hardly ever do. In seven of their 11 games this season United have failed to score more than once. United have only 10 goals in eight league outings now. They are toothless as well as gutless.

Bournemouth should have won by more but their third was a beauty. Twenty minutes from time, Lewis Cook played a ball down the line and Lammens hurtled out of his goal in a doomed attempt to try to get to it first.

Evanilson got to it first, took it round the goalkeeper and clipped the ball brilliantly into the empty goal from a tight angle. United’s humiliation was almost complete. In the dying minutes, the United fans chanted abuse at Ratcliffe’s henchmen Jason Wilcox, the director of football, and Omar Berrada, the chief executive.

But everyone knows that it will not be them who pay the price. In autumn’s parade of the damned, Carrick will be the next to walk into Manchester United’s endless winter.