Picture the following: a smiling Rasmus Højlund in a Napoli shirt. Now, juxtapose that with a dejected Benjamin Sesko in a Manchester United kit, looking as if he's missed an open goal. Don't bother finding a real picture of him missing; background information is the enemy. Now, include statistics in a large, silly font. Don't forget some emoticons. Share it across all platforms.
Will you mention that Højlund's tally includes strikes in the Champions League while Sesko does not compete in Europe? Of course not. And will you highlight that four of Højlund's goals were scored versus Belarus and Greece, or that his national team is far superior to Slovenia and creates many more chances. If you manage online for a large outlet, pure interaction is your livelihood, United are the biggest draw, and nuance is your sworn enemy.
Thus the cycle of online material spins. The next job is to scan a lengthy interview with Peter Schmeichel and extract the part where he calls the signing of Sesko "weird". Just before, where Schmeichel prefaces his comments by saying, "Nothing negative to say about Benjamin Sesko"... well, remove that part. No one needs that. Just ensure "strange" and "Sesko" appear together in the headline. The audience will be outraged.
The heart of fall has traditionally one of my preferred periods to observe football. The leaves swirl, winds shift, the teams and tactics are still fresh, all is novel and yet patterns are emerging. Key players of the season ahead are planting their flags. The transfer window is closed. Nobody is talking about the multiple trophies yet. All teams are in contention. Right now, anything is possible.
Yet, for similar reasons, mid-autumn has long been one of my least favourite times to read about football. Because although no outcomes are decided, something must always be getting settled. Jack Grealish is reborn. Florian Wirtz has been a crushing disappointment. Could Semenyo be the top performer in the league at this moment? We need a decision immediately.
And for numerous reasons, Sesko feels like Patient Zero in this respect, a player caught between football's two countervailing, non-negotiable forces. The imperative to delay final conclusions, allowing technical development and tactical sophistication to mature. And the imperative to produce permanent definitive judgment, a conveyor belt of takes and jokes, out-of-context condemnations and pointless comparisons, a square that can never truly be solved.
I do not propose to offer a in-depth evaluation of Sesko's stint at Manchester United to date. He has started on four occasions in the top flight in a highly unpredictable team, scored two goals, and taken a grand total of 116 touches. What exactly are we evaluating? Nor do I propose to replicate Gary Neville's and Ian Wright's notable debate "Argument Over Benjamin Sesko", in which two famous analysts argue thrillingly on a popular show over whether Sesko needs ten strikes to be a success this season (Neville), or whether it's really more like 12 or 13 (the other).
Despite this I loved watching Sesko at his former club: a powerful, fast sports car of a forward, playing in a team pitched perfectly to his abilities: afforded the license to attack but also the freedom to fail. And in part this is why Manchester United feels like the most unforgiving place he could possibly be right now: a place where "brutal verdicts" are summarily issued in about the time it takes to load a pre-roll ad, the club with the widest and most pitiless gap between the time and air he needs, and the time and air he is likely to receive.
We saw a case of this during the international break, when a widely shared infographic conveniently informed us that the player had been judged – by a wide margin – the worst signing of the recent market by a survey of football representatives. And of course, the press are not the only ones in such behavior. Club channels, influencers, anonymous X accounts with a oddly high number of fake followers: all parties with a vested interest is now basically operating along the identical rules, an environment deliberately geared for provocation.
Scroll, scroll, tap, scroll. What is happening to us? Are we aware, on any level, what this infinite sluice of irritation is doing to our minds? Separate from the essential weirdness of being a player in the center of it all, aware on a bizarre butterfly-effect level that each aspect about players is now basically content, product, public property to be repackaged and exchanged.
Indeed, in part this is because United are United, the corpse that continues to feed the cycle, a big club that must always be generating the big feelings. But also, in part this is a seasonal affliction, a swing of opinion most clearly and harshly observed at this time of year, roughly four weeks after the window has closed. All summer long we have been desiring players, praising them, salivating over them. Now, just a few weeks in, many of those very players are now being dismissed as broken goods. Is it time to be concerned about Jamie Gittens? Was Arsenal's purchase of Viktor Gyökeres necessary? What was the point of another expensive buy?
It seems fitting that Sesko faces their rivals on Sunday: a team simultaneously on a long unbeaten run at their stadium in the league and yet in their own situation of feverish crisis, like submitting a missing person’s report on someone who went to the store 30 minutes ago. Defensively suspect. Mohamed Salah past his prime. The striker waste of money. Arne Slot bald.
Perhaps we have failed to understand the way the storyline of football has begun to supplant football itself, to inflect the way we view it, an whole competition repivoted around discussion topics and reaction, an activity that happens in the background while we scroll through our phones, unable to detach from the saline drip of takes and more takes. Perhaps Sesko bearing the brunt at present. But in a way, we're all losing something in this process.
Elara is a seasoned writer and digital nomad who shares her adventures and expertise in lifestyle and technology.