A new team, an old city, and a crowd that hasn’t quite arrived yet. That’s Manchester Basketball’s debut SLB season. After the Giants disappeared, a new club was rushed into being—launched just in time for the season, with a roster built on potential rather than fit, and a name that felt more like a placeholder than a brand. And for a while, they played like it too—a group without definition, struggling to find cohesion or clarity. Manchester Basketball could be anyone.
Callum Jones was thrown into the middle of it, tasked with steadying the turbulence in his first pro coaching role. Manchester were the last team in the league to win a game, picking up their first victory in the Trophy on October 27th. It was a flicker of encouragement that maybe this team could come together—but the glimpses never became runs. Manchester remained a frustrating watch. They had talent, but no cohesion, and never looked greater than the sum of their parts.
That changed in February with the arrival of Herman Mandole, an experienced Argentinian coach with pedigree and purpose. His style—fast, aggressive, and decisive—transformed Manchester into one of the most compelling on-court products in the league. Since then, the team has played with identity and intensity. The basketball is no longer the problem. But the stands still are.
The NBPC holds just over 2,000, and most nights it doesn’t come close. That matters—because in a venue that size, empty seats show. There is noise, and there are fans, but not yet the consistency or scale to make it feel like a true home. The atmosphere flickers, just like the early season performances once did.
Mandoleball
Mandole gave Manchester a way to play—and a reason to watch. Their pressure-heavy defence and modern offence made them disruptive, effective, and fun. When he arrived in February, the shift was immediate. Rotations shortened. Tempo lifted. The principles were clear.
But structure isn’t the same as sharpness. Manchester looked like a team with a plan—but rarely one in full control of it. There were turnovers in key moments, defensive lapses, and a lack of composure late in games. The ideas were sound but the execution stayed loose.
Still, compared to the aimless early season, it was progress. Mandole brought shape, urgency, and an identity Manchester could lean into. This wasn’t a finished product. But it was finally something real.
Leaky Roof
For all the progress on the floor, Manchester remain a club without full control off it. They rent the NBPC on game days, and in January, a fixture against Leicester was called off due to a leaking roof—an image as symbolic as it was frustrating. In a league where infrastructure increasingly defines sustainability, the lack of venue ownership limits what Manchester can build. The team now has identity. But the project is still unfolding in a borrowed space.
And yet, something is beginning to catch. Ahead of their first-ever home play-off game, Manchester slashed ticket prices to £5—and sold out. It wasn’t driven by organic demand, but it showed what’s possible. In a venue that’s often echoed with empty seats, even a discounted full house is a kind of progress.
The Hard Part Starts Now
You can’t throw money at a city and expect a fanbase to appear. You can’t shortcut identity. Manchester have fixed the on-court product—but building something people truly connect to will be harder. Something rooted. Something that lasts.
The system now has structure and the basketball is sharp. But everything else—name, home, following—still feels in flux. This season showed that Manchester can compete. Next season has to show what kind of club they really want to be.
