When footballer Alexander Isak forced through his transfer from Newcastle to Liverpool, he destroyed his legacy overnight, says Max Avard. Whether leaving a job or a church, Christians should remember that how we leave matters to God. And it should matter to us
I had a conversation with my friend at the pub recently about a secret addiction we’d both been struggling with.
We’re both out of the woods with it now, but not for long, I suspect.
Come January, it will return.
Our addiction – cue your eye roll – was to the football transfer window.
It’s a period where fans of the beautiful game will spend a ridiculous amount of time trawling through sports sites, newspapers, and Fabrizio Romano tweets, wondering which club will nab that new Brazilian wunderkind or make an audacious bid for that 30-goal-a-season striker from Germany we pretend to know about.
In the book of James, we read about the power of the tongue and how “a great forest is set on fire by a small spark” – and so it goes with the transfer window. Gossip equates to fact, dubious rumours swirl across social media, and source-less stories get splashed on back pages.
Enter the star—or should I say villain—of this summer’s transfer window: Alexander Isak.
Isak joined Newcastle in August 2022 for a club-record £63 million. Despite some niggling injury issues, he quickly became a fan favourite and one of the Premier League’s most prolific strikers. Last season, he scored 23 Premier League goals, helped Newcastle end a 70-year trophy drought, and authored himself into Magpies folklore. In Tyneside, the black-and-white stripes are more like military uniform than a football kit. If Isak had continued his goalscoring heroics for a couple more seasons, you could’ve guaranteed local pubs being named after him, a statue outside the ground, and countless fans donning garish Isak tattoos on their arms.
But not so much. Because last week, Isak completed one of the most acrimonious transfers in football history, going from hero to zero in record speed.
Rather than securing his St James’ sainthood, the Swede spent all summer pushing for a move to Liverpool. The six-week saga dominated headlines, becoming manager Eddie Howe’s biggest headache and growing more unedifying by the day, with solo training sessions, cryptic “broken promises” statements, and endless leaks destroying what little goodwill remained. Finally, mere hours before the deadline, he got his wish—joining rivals Liverpool on a six-year deal for a British-record £125 million.
So, what can we learn from this whole ordeal? Well, it’s simple really: make sure you leave things well.
The reason Isak has tarnished his legacy in such a dramatic way is not because he left, but how he left. By doing everything in his power to force a move, Isak threw away any connection he’d formed with the supporters and showed a complete lack of appreciation for the investment the club had made in him as a person and player.
Whether you’re a footballer, a CEO, or an intern, the way you leave can echo louder than anything you’ve done while staying. Legacy can be built over years and lost in a moment.
One can’t help but feel Isak would have benefited from biblical wisdom here. Take 1 Corinthians 16:14:“Let all that you do be done in love” or Romans 12:18, “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”
Unless the story we’re being told is wildly off the mark, it’s hard to see where Isak acted out of love or with peace in mind. But unlike his summer training sessions, he’s not alone.
A survey from Reed found that 1 in 7 UK workers has engaged in revenge quitting in 2025; purposefully staging dramatic, messy departures at inopportune times to make a point about where they work. I’m sure for many this felt satisfying in the moment, but doubtless it will do nothing to stitch up any wounds or bring long-term healing.
And it isn’t just work. What about church? Most of us, will at some point leave a church. Perhaps for good or neutral reasons, such as moving to another part of the country. But even if you’re leaving because of a theological or practical disagreement, you can still leave well. Avoid the temptation to gossip, keep the leadership team informed of your decision and part ways as peacefully as possible. After all, Jesus did say people would know we are his disciples because of our love for one another (and not our sarky comments on the church Facebook).
When The Apostle Paul speaks of doing everything in love, he isn’t calling for wishy-washy politeness or dutiful acceptance, but integrity, honesty, and kindness. You don’t need to love your job to leave well and nor is living “at peace with everyone” a passive acceptance of where you’re at. When we leave, we should speak truth without bitterness, honour the relationships that have shaped us, and resist the temptation to make it all about ourselves.
Take note for when Real Madrid eventually come knocking, Mr Isak…
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