Picture this: a happy the Danish striker in a Napoli shirt. Now, juxtapose it with a sad-looking Benjamin Sesko sporting United's jersey, looking as if he's missed an open goal. Don't worry locating an actual photo of that miss; context is the enemy. Then, include statistics in a big, comical font. Remember some emoticons. Post the image across all platforms.
Will you mention that Højlund's tally includes strikes in the premier European competition while Sesko does not compete in Europe? Certainly not. Nor would you note that four of Højlund's goals came against weaker national sides, or that his national team is much stronger to Slovenia and creates far more chances. If you run social media for a large outlet, raw interaction is what pays the bills, Manchester United are the biggest draw, and nuance is your sworn enemy.
So the cycle of online material spins. The next job is to sift through a lengthy interview with Peter Schmeichel and find the part where he calls the acquisition of Sesko "weird". There's a bit, where Schmeichel qualifies his remarks by saying, "I have nothing bad to say about Benjamin Sesko"... yes, cut that. Nobody wants that. Just make sure "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 watch football. The leaves swirl, winds shift, squads and strategies are newly formed, everything is new and yet patterns are emerging. The stars of the coming months are planting their flags. The transfer window is shut. No one is talking about the multiple trophies yet. Everyone are still in the game. Right now, anything is possible.
However, for similar reasons, this period has also been one of my most disliked times to consume news on football. Because although no outcomes are decided, opinions must be formed immediately. Jack Grealish is reborn. The German talent has been a crushing disappointment. Is Antoine Semenyo the best player in the league at this moment? Please a decision immediately.
In many ways, Sesko feels like Patient Zero in this context, a player caught between football's opposing, non-negotiable forces. The need to delay final conclusions, allowing layers of technical texture and tactical sophistication to mature. And the imperative to produce instant definitive judgment, a conveyor belt of opinions and jokes, out-of-context criticisms and pointless comparisons, a puzzle that can never truly be circled.
It is not my aim to provide a in-depth evaluation of Sesko's time at United to date. He has started four times in the Premier League in a wildly inconsistent team, scored two goals, and had a grand total of 116 contacts with the ball. What exactly are we analysing? Nor will I attempt to duplicate the pundits' seminal masterwork "The Sesko Debate", in which two famous analysts argue thrillingly on a podcast over whether he needs 10 goals to be a success this year (one pundit), or whether it is more like 12 or 13 (Wright).
Despite this I loved watching him at his former club: a powerful, screeching racing car of a striker, playing in a team pitched perfectly to his abilities: given the freedom to attack but also the freedom to fail. And in part this is why Manchester United feels like the cruellest place he could possibly be at the moment: a place where "harsh judgments" are summarily issued in roughly the duration it takes to watch a pre-roll ad, the club with the largest and most ruthless gap between the patience and space he needs, and the time and air he is going to get.
We saw a case of this during the national team pause, when a viral infographic conveniently informed us that Sesko had been judged – by a wide margin – the worst signing of the summer transfer window by a poll of football representatives. Naturally, the media are by no means the only ones in this. Club channels, online personalities, unidentified profiles with a suspiciously high number of fake followers: everybody with skin in the game is now essentially operating along the identical rules, an environment explicitly nosed towards provocation.
Endless scrolling and tapping. What is happening to ourselves? Do we realize, on some level, what this endless stream of aggravation is doing to our brains? Quite apart from the essential weirdness of playing in the middle of it all, knowing on a bizarre chain-reaction level that each aspect about players is now basically material, product, open-source property to be packaged and traded.
And yes, partly this is because United are United, the corpse that continues to feed the narrative, a major institution that must always be producing the strong emotions. However, partly this is a temporary malaise, a swing of opinion most clearly and harshly observed at this season, about a month after the window has closed. All summer long we have been coveting footballers, praising them, drooling over them. Yet, just a few weeks in, many of those same players are now being dismissed as broken goods. Should we start to worry about a new signing? Did Arsenal actually need Viktor Gyökeres necessary? What was the purpose of another expensive buy?
It feels appropriate that Sesko meets Liverpool on Sunday: a team simultaneously 13 months unbeaten at their stadium in the league and yet in their own state of feverish crisis, like submitting a missing person’s report on a person who popped to the shops 30 minutes ago. Too open. Mohamed Salah past his prime. Alexander Isak waste of money. Arne Slot losing his hair.
Perhaps we have failed to understand the way the storyline of football has started to replace football the actual game, to inflect the way we view it, an entire sport reoriented around talking points and immediate responses, an activity that occurs in the backdrop while we browse through our phones, incapable to detach from the constant flow of opinions and further hot takes. It may be this player bearing the brunt at present. However, we're all losing a part of the experience in this process.
A passionate gamer and writer with over a decade of experience in competitive gaming and content creation.