EAST RUTHERFORD, NY/NJ -- By the time Walid Regragui finally left his post as Morocco head coach, just three months before the FIFA World Cup, the decision shocked no one, even though he's the most successful manager the Atlas Lions have ever had.
The rumours had circulated for months, carried in the cafes of Casablanca, debated endlessly in the country's sports media, discussed with the gravitas of statecraft. Still, there was something jarring about seeing it become official, especially with less than 100 days to go till this tournament.
Morocco were parting ways with the man who had delivered the greatest achievement in the country's footballing history, the coach who had inspired the Atlas Lions to a World Cup semifinal, and, for a few heady days in 2022, made the kingdom feel like the emotional centre of the sporting world.
But modern Morocco - the Morocco of 2026, rather than the Morocco of 2022 in Qatar - measures itself against different standards than before.
Rewriting history inevitably changes the scale of acceptable ambition, and what Regragui achieved in Qatar transformed the perception of what the Atlas Lions were, what they could be, and what they should be. He raised his own bar.
Once upon a time, even qualifying for a World Cup elevated a Morocco coach to a rarefied air; they'd done so only five times in 11 previous attempts before 2022.
But at that tournament, they defeated Belgium, Spain and Portugal, becoming the first African and Arab nation ever to reach the final four of the tournament. The impossible happened... and expectations were recalibrated.
The transformation says as much about Morocco itself as it does about football. For years, the kingdom occupied a unique place within Africa; geographically African, culturally layered, politically monarchical, Mediterranean-facing, yet deeply invested in its continental influence. 'The Gateway to Africa'.
Under King Mohammed VI, Morocco has spent two decades expanding its presence and reach across the continent, through banking, infrastructure, aviation, migration diplomacy and sport. The monarch has signed 1400 bilateral agreements with other African countries since ascending to the throne.
The country increasingly behaves less like a peripheral power seeking recognition, searching for its place, but like a state destined to spearhead, to lead. Football became a central part of that vision.
The Mohammed VI Football Academy in Sale, the aggressive recruitment of diaspora talent, ambitions to host any tournament going, partnerships with CAF, the infrastructural investment, the World Cup co-hosting alongside Spain and Portugal in four years' time, they aren't just a country constructing a national team, but a football identity that's aligned with state ambition.
Former coach Herve Renard saw this, and understood it, but it's a changing landscape that ultimately pushed Regragui towards the exit door... even if Morocco were ultimately awarded the Africa Cup of Nations title following that controversial final against Senegal in January.
In another era, in days gone by, reaching a World Cup semi would have guaranteed the 50-year-old a job for life, he'd have been a national treasure. In modern Morocco, it only brought increased scrutiny.
Quickly, too quickly, the question shifted from 'How did he achieve this miracle?' to 'Are Morocco really doing enough, considering who we are and who we want to become?'
On one hand, Regragui made Morocco feel more Moroccan - an anointing realised, exceptionalism personified - but too many felt like they played less and less like themselves, like Morocco should.
In many ways, he always remained an outsider. Born and raised in France, shaped by French football structures, never entirely comfortable in Darija - despite admirable efforts - he was not instinctively perceived as a product of Morocco's domestic football culture.
During the euphoria of Qatar, none of that mattered. He became the embodiment of national pride; the images of the players - many of whom he had introduced to the fold - embracing their mothers, carrying the emotional weight of all of North Africa, transformed him into something larger than a coach.
And yet, once the emotion of 2022 settled into memory, a firmer debate began to emerge around the football itself.
Morocco under Regragui was disciplined and defensively organised. They were also deeply controlled, with the Lions defending in compact blocks, accepting time without possession, relying on rehearsed moves and pre-planned transitions rather than inspiration.
Regragui was proud of this fact, regularly quoting stats in press conferences to demonstrate how his team had controlled a contest or stifled an opponent.
They did so against Spain and Portugal during their finest hour; Morocco suffocated opponents through structure and concentration rather than expressive attacking football. It was elite tournament football, well-managed, effective, knockout ties, but for many supporters, it didn't feel like Moroccan football.
As the players grew in stature, so frustrations intensified towards Regragui. Why could the presence of Achraf Hakimi not ensure Morocco were as swashbuckling as Paris Saint-Germain? Why could a country so revered for its ability to produce fantasy playmakers not be more effective in breaking down lesser sides who sit deep?
The team were winning matches, but supporters were not entertained. This tension lies at the heart of Morocco's decision to gamble and appoint Mohamed Ouahbi as Regragui's successor.
If the latter was criticised for making Morocco too pragmatic, too mechanically efficient, too European, rolling the dice on Ouahbi is to try to rediscover the instinctiveness, the flair, the risk, the improvisation. The joyous unpredictability traditionally associated with North African football, which had been squeezed out of Regragui's masters of emotional resilience.
Can Quahbi find again that football of narrow alleyways and impossible first touches, of Mustapha Hadji, of Adel Taarabt, of Sofiane Boufal, of Hakim Ziyech?
In Qatar, reactive football felt heroic. Three and a half years later, Morocco's aim must be to dominate rather than just survive.
Morocco don't just want to be entertainers, they want to be winners, and the likes of Taarabt, or even Boufal, was always going to struggle to fit into a highly controlled modern structure.
If the Atlas Lions are to pivot towards more fluid and expressive football, they surely recognise that they must do so with artists who can be co-opted into the collective.
Ouahbi's mission is not to undo Regragui's good work and to take Morocco back to the days of mavericks, but to evolve the Atlas Lions into something more ambitious, the country's first genuinely hybrid football identity.
We can see the blueprint in what he's already done as a youth coach with Anderlecht, and within the Moroccan structure.
Like Regragui, he's Europe-born and bred, but unlike Regragui, he arrives not as an outsider, but as a product of the federation's institutional vision. Through his successful work with the country's youth teams, and his close association with the academy, he's perceived increasingly as a homegrown coaching prospect.
Several of the charges who developed under him at youth level have been fast-tracked to the first team (Gessime Yassine was an U-20 World Cup winner with Ouahbi last year and made the World Cup squad) while Ayyoub Bouaddi - a new recruit from France's U-21 team - also fits the new model. He's technically superb, tactically educated, and maintains continuity with the focus on the Diaspora that Renard and Regragui cultivated.
While Regragui's seniors were grinding out results, Ouahbi's youth sides played with freedom and invention. He encouraged positional fluidity, quick usage of the ball, and aggressive pressing. Technicians were prioritised. Control remained, but it carried bite.
The challenge for Ouahbi is simple: Become a footballing superpower, truly Moroccan, without losing the qualities that got us to the semifinal.