"You’ve hardly got any time to think for yourself when you’re a manager. When you’re not one, you’ve got all the time in the world, and it just drives you insane."

The life of a football manager is precarious. At any one time, the majority are unemployed, waiting for their peers to fail so they can hopefully return to work.

Ian Holloway, who took up his first managerial role in 1996, is currently in that camp. He has been waiting almost four years for his next appointment after resigning from his ninth and last post at Grimsby.

"I’m 11 games short of 1,000 and that’s killing me," the 61-year-old tells BBC Sport of his desire to join "an elite group" of 26 Englishmen to reach the coaching landmark.

"It’s only a number, but it’s much more than that.

"I’m a little bit jealous that I haven’t [achieved it]. It’s about longevity."

In his time off, Holloway has revelled in having more time with his family, painting portraits and numerous pundit roles, but is itching to get back in the game.

“Vultures wait to eat, don’t they?” he says. “I suppose it’s the only thing I’ve ever known. There’s no other way to do it."

Holloway admits the waiting game creates a curious dynamic between managers, whose mutual sympathy can only extend so far. They understand the unique demands of the role and its inherently ruthless nature.

"We all nod and say hello, but you can’t say you’re friends really because you’re in competition. The whole rigmarole of how you get another job is madness. It’s not fair. A lot of it is done before the other manager leaves," he says.

"I’m not a person who does that. You shouldn’t win by cheating and you shouldn’t take someone’s job before he’s finished doing it."

Agents typically ensure that the managerial merry-go-round keeps spinning. They speak to key decision-makers at clubs, build relationships, promote their clients’ qualities and sound out potential opportunities. Managers can fall off the radar without someone actively championing their cause.

That’s why Holloway is rewriting his CV and enlisting the help of an agent as he targets a long-awaited return to the dugout.

Holloway has sometimes struggled with the lack of responsibility and sense of purpose when out of work. He loses an important part of his identity. More than just a job, management can be a compulsion. He thrives on having a squad of players who take their lead from him.

"You need to make every decision – what days are they in? What time are they training? Who’s involved and who isn’t? You’ve got to deal with all those emotions. The minute you lose your job, you haven’t got one decision to make. You’ve got nothing to do. It’s the total opposite," he says.

Despite his frustration at this spell out of football, Holloway has lost none of his boundless enthusiasm. Living with his wife Kim, a mixture of family, painting, punditry and after-dinner speaking keeps him busy.

“I’ve had such a wonderful life that I’m not complaining, no matter what," he says.

"I’ve got eight grandchildren I can see all the time. I’m trying to learn to be an artist and do portraits. I just want to be involved in the world."

These days, he gets his football fix in different ways.

"You revise what you’ve done before and look at what’s happening today," he adds. "You watch games and you analyse them. You’re constantly learning. I’ll take my grandson Ethan, who’s 10, to a training session. I might say something to one or two of the young players there and try to encourage them."

Still, he knows that nothing quite matches the buzz of management.

"It’s about developing the group and a mentality. The beautiful thing about it is that you can create your own environment. I think that’s what I miss most. When it goes well, no one’s afraid to fail. That’s when the magic happens," says Holloway.

"I’m forever hopeful. I’m a bit like Tom Hanks in Cast Away – you never know what the tide’s going to bring."

In contrast to Holloway, Wade Elliott has had just one permanent managerial role so far. He retired from playing in 2015 and went straight into coaching, eventually becoming assistant to his former team-mate Michael Duff at Cheltenham Town.

"I’ve always been a bit of a football geek. I spend a lot of time thinking about the game. You can have a lot of influence as a coach but, ultimately, the manager is the one who puts his fingerprints on the team," says Elliott.

"For a lot of people, managing is an itch that you have to scratch. You have to put yourself on the frontline and experience it."

When Duff left to take over at Barnsley, Elliott was encouraged to apply for the vacant manager’s job. He was appointed in July 2022 and spent 65 games in charge. After successfully keeping them in League One, he was sacked last September following a poor start to the season.

"If you’re in charge of a team that doesn’t score for eight games, you can’t really quibble about the club wanting to try something else," he reasons.

"I’m probably judged on those eight games and not the overall job, but I’m obviously privy to all the work that went on – the circumstances and the challenges.

"Success for Cheltenham in League One is hanging on, but you won’t get a lot of credit for that, and you won’t be able to use it as a stepping stone.

"I always wanted to try management. My thinking going into it was, ‘even if it ends how it’s likely to end, I’m going to be better for the experience'."

After losing his job, Elliott enjoyed having a break from work to reassess.

"My whole life’s been in football," says the 45-year-old.

"You get the fixtures, you put them in your calendar and then you work your life around that. I just wanted a period where I flipped that a little bit, so I had about three months off.

"You make a lot of sacrifices to be in football. It was the first Christmas I managed to have off for probably 30 years. My boy was eight at the time and we went to Lapland, so it worked out perfectly."

Elliott appreciated that change of pace and sought a better balance from his next role, putting managerial aspirations on the backburner for now. He’s currently scouting for Sport Republic, who own Southampton, Turkish club Goztepe and Valenciennes in France.

"There’s a lot of variety to it," he says.

"At times I’ve been asked to look at a specific league or tournament. Other times it might be a specific player.

"You can do a lot of the work remotely. You’ve got access online to virtually any game in the world. I can then pick and choose my times to go and see people live. This job has kept me involved in football, while also giving me a good work-life balance.

"I loved management, and enjoyed the responsibility that came with it, but I’m realistic enough to know that if I choose to be out of it for however many years, your star does fade and there are other people who burn a little bit brighter."

Out of sight, out of mind is a common and understandable perception. To remain relevant and in the public eye, unemployed managers often look to boost their profile through guest spots on TV and radio.

Measured in his approach, Elliott doesn’t fear becoming yesterday’s man. "I haven’t sought anything out. My son’s very much my priority. I’m really enjoying having that time with him. I tend to just follow my nose and see where I land. I’m quite relaxed about where it takes me.

"Management’s game after game. It’s win to survive. For two or three years, all I did was watch League One football and get a really good understanding of that, but I probably lost that wider perspective. This has given me the chance to go away and watch different teams, different styles. It’s broadened my horizons."

The churn of managers will no doubt continue over the coming months, along with the scramble to take up new positions. While the hundreds who are out of work would ideally bide their time and choose the right job that gives them the best chance of success, few can afford that luxury.

Many are lost without management, eager to prove themselves, and worried about falling out of favour. In such a relentlessly volatile and competitive industry, where points, pride and jobs are at stake, the odds aren’t in anyone’s favour but the desire to roll the dice never changes.