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Picture this: a smiling the Danish striker wearing Napoli's colors. Next, juxtapose that with a dejected the Slovenian forward in a Manchester United kit, appearing like he's missed a sitter. Don't bother finding an actual photo of that miss; context is your adversary. Then, add some goal stats in a big, silly font. Remember the emojis. Post the image everywhere.

Would you mention that Højlund's goal count features strikes in the Champions League while his counterpart isn't playing in Europe? Of course not. And will you note that several of Højlund's goals were scored versus Belarus and Greece, or that Denmark is much stronger to Slovenia and generates far more chances. If you manage social media for a major brand, pure interaction is your livelihood, Manchester United are the biggest draw, and nuance is your sworn enemy.

Thus the cycle of online material turns. Your next task is to sift through a 44-minute podcast with the legendary goalkeeper and extract the part where he describes the signing of Sesko "weird". Just before, where Schmeichel prefaces his remarks by saying, "Nothing negative to say about Benjamin Sesko"... well, remove that part. No one needs that. Just make sure "strange" and "Sesko" are paired in the headline. The audience will be furious.

This Time of Potential and Hasty Opinions

Mid-autumn has long been one of my favourite periods to observe football. The leaves swirl, winds shift, squads and strategies are newly formed, all is novel and yet patterns are emerging. The stars of the season ahead are planting their flags. The summer market is shut. No one is mentioning the quadruple yet. Everyone are in contention. At this precise point, all is possibility.

Yet, for similar reasons, this period has long been one of my most disliked times to read about football. Because although nothing has yet been settled, opinions must be formed immediately. The City winger is reborn. Florian Wirtz has been a crushing disappointment. Is Antoine Semenyo the best player in the league right now? We need an answer now.

Sesko as The Prime Example

And for numerous reasons, Sesko feels like Patient Zero in this respect, a player inextricably trapped between football's two countervailing, non-negotiable forces. The imperative to delay final conclusions, allowing technical development and tactical sophistication to develop. And the imperative to produce permanent verdicts, a conveyor belt of takes and memes, context-free criticisms and pointless comparisons, a square that can never truly be solved.

I do not propose to provide a substantive analysis of Sesko's time at United to date. He has been in the lineup on four occasions in the Premier League in a highly unpredictable team, scored two goals, and had a mere of 116 contacts with the ball. What exactly are we analysing? And will I attempt to replicate the pundits' notable debate "Argument Over Benjamin Sesko", in which two famous analysts duel thrillingly on a popular show over whether he needs ten strikes to be a success this year (Neville), or whether it is more like twelve or thirteen (the other).

A Cruel Environment

For all this I enjoyed watching him at Leipzig: a powerful, fast sports car of a forward, playing in a team ideally suited to his talents: given the freedom to attack but also the freedom to miss. Partly this is why Manchester United feels like the most unforgiving 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 short advertisement, the club with the largest and most pitiless gulf between the patience and space he needs, and the opportunity he is going to get.

There was a case of this over the national team pause, when a viral infographic handily stated that Sesko had been judged – by a wide margin – the worst signing of the recent market by a poll of football representatives. And of course, the press are by no means alone in such behavior. Club channels, online personalities, anonymous X accounts with a suspiciously high number of fake followers: everybody with skin in the game is now basically operating along the identical rules, an environment explicitly nosed towards provocation.

The Psychological Toll

Scroll, scroll, tap, scroll. What is happening to us? Are we aware, on some level, what this endless stream of irritation is doing to our brains? Quite apart from the essential weirdness of playing in the middle of this, knowing on a bizarre butterfly-effect level that every single thing about players is now basically material, commodity, public property to be packaged and traded.

Indeed, partly this is because United are United, the entity that continues to feed the cycle, a big club that must always be producing the big feelings. However, partly this is a temporary malaise, a swing of opinion most visibly and harshly observed at this season, about a month after the window has closed. Throughout the summer we have been desiring players, eulogising them, salivating over them. Now, just a few weeks in, a lot of those very players are now being disdained as failures. Is it time to worry about Jamie Gittens? Did Arsenal actually need their striker wise? What was the point of Randal Kolo Muani?

The Bigger Picture

It feels appropriate that he faces Liverpool on the weekend: a team simultaneously 13 months unbeaten at home in the league and yet in their own state of perceived turmoil, like filing a a report on a person who went to the store 30 minutes ago. Defensively suspect. Their star finished. Alexander Isak waste of money. Arne Slot bald.

Maybe we have failed to understand the way the storyline of football has begun to supplant football the actual game, to influence the way we view it, an whole competition reoriented around talking points and immediate responses, something that happens in the backdrop while we browse through our devices, unable to disconnect from the constant flow of takes and further hot takes. It may be Sesko taking the hit right now. But in a way, everyone is sacrificing something here.