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Picture this: a smiling the Danish striker in a Napoli shirt. Next, juxtapose that with a sad-looking Benjamin Sesko in a Manchester United kit, appearing like he's missed a sitter. Don't worry finding an actual photo of that miss; background information is the enemy. Now, include statistics in a large, comical font. Don't forget some emoticons. Share it across all platforms.

Would you point out that Højlund's tally features strikes in the premier European competition while Sesko isn't playing in continental tournaments? Of course not. And would you note that four of the Dane's goals came against Belarus and Greece, or that his national team is far superior to Slovenia and generates many more scoring opportunities. If you manage social media for a large outlet, raw engagement is your livelihood, United are the biggest draw, and nuance is the thing to avoid.

So the cycle of content turns. Your next task is to scan a lengthy podcast with the legendary goalkeeper and find the part where he describes the acquisition of Sesko "weird". Just before, where he qualifies his comments by saying, "I have nothing bad to say about Benjamin Sesko"... well, remove that part. Nobody needs that. Just ensure "weird" and "the player" are paired in the headline. The audience will be outraged.

This Time of Potential and Hasty Opinions

Mid-autumn has long been one of my preferred periods to observe football. Leaves fall, winds shift, the teams and tactics are still fresh, all is novel and yet patterns are emerging. Key players of the season ahead are staking their claims. The transfer window is shut. Nobody is mentioning the multiple trophies yet. All teams are in contention. Right now, all is possibility.

Yet, for many of the same reasons, this period has long 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. Florian Wirtz has been a major letdown. Is Antoine Semenyo the top performer in the league right now? Please a decision immediately.

Sesko as The Prime Example

And for numerous reasons, Benjamin Sesko feels like the archetype in this respect, a player caught between football's opposing, unavoidable forces. The imperative to withhold final conclusions, to let layers of technical texture and tactical sophistication to mature. And the imperative to produce instant verdicts, a conveyor belt of takes and memes, out-of-context criticisms and meaningless contrasts, a square that can not truly be circled.

It is not my aim to offer a substantive evaluation of Sesko's stint at United so far. The guy has been in the lineup on four occasions in the Premier League in a wildly inconsistent team, scored two goals, and had a mere of 116 touches. What precisely are we analysing? And will I attempt to replicate the pundits' notable debate "Argument Over Benjamin Sesko", in which two famous analysts duel passionately on a podcast over whether he needs ten strikes to be deemed successful this year (Neville), or whether it is more like twelve or thirteen (Wright).

A Cruel Environment

Despite this I loved watching Sesko at his former club: a powerful, fast racing car of a striker, playing in a team pitched perfectly to his talents: afforded the freedom to rampage but also the freedom to fail. Partly this is why Manchester United feels like the most unforgiving place he could possibly be right now: 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 pitiless gulf between the time and air he requires, and the time and air he is going to get.

We saw a case of this over the international break, when a viral infographic handily informed us that Sesko had been judged – decisively – the worst signing of the recent market by a poll of football representatives. Naturally, the media are not the only ones in this. Team social media, online personalities, anonymous X accounts with a oddly high number of pornbot followers: everybody with skin in the game is now basically aligned along the identical rules, an environment explicitly geared for controversy.

The Psychological Toll

Scroll, scroll, tap, scroll. What are we doing to ourselves? Do we realize, on any level, what this endless sluice of irritation is doing to our brains? Quite apart from the inherent strangeness of playing in the center of this, aware on a bizarre butterfly-effect level that each aspect about players is now basically content, commodity, public property to be packaged and traded.

And yes, partly this is because it's Manchester United, the entity that keeps nourishing the narrative, a major institution that must constantly be producing the big feelings. But also, partly this is a temporary malaise, a swing of judgment most visibly and harshly glimpsed at this season, about a month after the window has closed. All summer long we have been desiring footballers, eulogising them, drooling over them. Yet, just a few weeks in, a lot of those very players are now being dismissed as broken goods. Is it time to worry about a new signing? Was Arsenal's purchase of Viktor Gyökeres wise? What was the purpose of another expensive buy?

The Bigger Picture

It seems fitting that he faces their rivals on the weekend: a team at once 13 months unbeaten at home in the league and somehow in their own state of perceived turmoil, like filing a missing person’s report on a person who popped to the store half an hour ago. Too open. Their star past his prime. Alexander Isak waste of money. Arne Slot bald.

Maybe we have failed to understand the way the storyline of football has started to replace football the actual game, to influence the way we view it, an entire sport reoriented around discussion topics and immediate responses, an activity that happens in the backdrop while we scroll through our phones, incapable to detach from the constant flow of opinions and further hot takes. Perhaps this player bearing the brunt at present. But in a way, we're all sacrificing something here.