Journalists take pride in their observation skills. As spectators, we steal the front seats to every show. Anyone who has attended a funeral or a wedding is familiar with the feeling of being a spectator. One sits calmly, observing the minutest details, remarking upon them (especially us Viewpoint columnists), commenting and debating, reveling in the gossip as it plays out in front of the world. Except, journalists don’t get invites — they have a license to gate crash.

Recently, I began to observe the phenomenon of retirement as a play, acted out by individuals and ecosystems in various areas of human endeavor. The retirement of Sir Alex Ferguson as Manchester United’s manager, the retirement of Rahul Dravid from the Indian Cricket Team and that of David Beckham from soccer were all major ripples in their ecosystems. We see a lot of individuals retiring in sports or politics but few on Wall Street. It seems almost as if making money is easier than any other occupation.

They say true winners — people who beat the game — make a habit of it. Somehow winning consistently seems like a good example of Newton’s first law of maintaining balance. One often hears phrases like “the winning combination” or “the winning streak.” All of them seem to point at some sort of finite state achieved by various parameters of the ecosystem that they want to continue to be in — parameters like team rhythm, strategies, player fitness or a catalyst work environment. A single individual leaving the ecosystem is a huge unbalanced force hitting the niche of this delicate balance.

Sir Alex Ferguson was the manager of Manchester United for 27 years. During his term, Manchester United went from the 19th place in the old first division to winning the English Premier League 13 times and stacking up 49 trophies of all sorts. “He’s like a seat in the stadium, the grass on the pitch,” said Roberto Mancini, manager of Manchester City, the suburban rivals of Manchester United. When a man of that stature leaves, it shakes the whole system. It will take a lot of effort from the rest of the entities to cancel out the forces.

For the very same reason, I want to point out that the whole drama of retirement is made to look a shade too sentimental. No individual committed to his or her team’s success will want to create such a sudden imbalance. He or she must account for the best time to leave so there is cushion for the rest of the team. There are plan Bs and Cs to be made, replacements to be found and synchronization to be carried out to make the process as smooth as possible for the winning rhythm to continue, for the state to not change. It is, in most cases, a timed, planned event. Yet, like a chemical reaction, you can plan as much as you want but environmental factors can prove to be too chaotic to maintain the balance. Even if the whole world comes to know of the news of retirement one fine morning, the people behind it plot it for months, like a well-planned Apple release.

Then there are the fans. The social media campaigns, the long obituaries and the media interviews ― all of them are a crucial part of the ritual. The fans must be addressed. The audience is a crucial part of any play.

There are numerous cases when teams have abruptly fallen off the peaks of their games. Liverpool Football Club fizzed out of its golden era in the seventies and the Brazilian soccer team and the West Indies cricket team of the seventies and eighties never came back after the loss of their golden players. Teams often find it difficult to regain the winning combination. It is not so different in other fields like research teams in academic institutions, electoral campaigns and corporate industries.

Retirement is more than just a personal act ― it is undoubtedly driven by an individual but played out by the whole ecosystem.