​For anyone who has spent time working within an organisation of a certain size, it’s likely you’ll have encountered the Kübler-Ross Change Curve at some point. It tends to surface during periods of significant change within a company, offering a way to help people realise that, with a bit of luck, they may eventually feel okay about being made unemployed. For those unfamiliar with Kübler-Ross specifically, the concept is probably familiar by association: Denial. Acceptance. Gan radge. It’s also closely linked to the stages of grief—the idea that you’re on an emotional journey where you will, in time, come to accept being made redundant or the recent loss of a loved one.
So why, if these frameworks are used to process grief or other life-altering events, does the concept get mentioned on a Sunderland fanzine website? Well, obviously, Granit Xhaka. Over to Elisabeth Kübler-Ross…
Stage 1 – Denial: “Why the fuck would he leave after that speech he gave?! Not happening.” This is the point at which people retreat into self-preservation. They completely reject the change because accepting it would force them to deal with it. When it comes to the rumoured transfer of your club captain to The Worst Club In The World, this will often manifest as a total dismissal of the rumor’s source. It’s unlikely Fabrizio Romano reads Roker Report (though his lawyers might after the last week), but yes, I am referring to you here, you mollusc.
Stage 2 – Anger: “Look, if he wants to go, fuck him and his agent. Rat.” Once our minds are opened, even just a little, to the possibility of change, all the previously ignored emotion needs somewhere to go. The beauty of football fans is that there is no limit to where that anger can be directed—Xhaka, his agent, Chelsea, Xabi Alonso, Sunderland’s owners, the Swiss national team manager, Steven Taylor—often all at once. It’s easier to vent than to show vulnerability.
Stage 3 – Bargaining: “Maybe he’s just after a new deal or reassurances over transfers?!” Rather than accepting reality for what it is, people begin to construct scenarios in which the change won’t happen, attempting to rewrite the future. Football supporters especially lean into this stage, adopting the voice of armchair Sporting Directors and speaking with supposed authority on matters such as PSR, club accounts, player wages, and the notion that the player has merely had his downstairs bathroom decorated, so obviously he isn’t leaving.
Stage 4 – Depression: “It’s happening, isn’t it? He’s going to be a huge miss.” Despite the melodramatic label, this stage is often a quieter resignation that the change is indeed occurring. The anger has subsided, and everything begins to feel more subdued—though the sentiment still travels across the internet as a cathartic SEO-friendly headline.