Imagine the following: a smiling the Danish striker in a Napoli shirt. Next, place it with a dejected Benjamin Sesko in a Manchester United kit, looking as if he's missed a sitter. Don't bother finding an actual photo of him missing; background information is your adversary. Now, include statistics in a big, comical font. Remember the emojis. Share the image across all platforms.
Will you mention that Højlund's goal count includes strikes in the Champions League while Sesko isn't playing in Europe? Of course not. Nor would you highlight that four of the Dane's goals were scored versus Belarus and Greece, or that his national team is far superior to Slovenia and generates many more chances. You run online for a major brand, pure interaction is what pays the bills, Manchester United are the prime target, and nuance is the thing to avoid.
Thus the wheel of content turns. The next job is to scan a 44-minute podcast with the legendary goalkeeper and extract the part where he calls the signing of Sesko "strange". Just before, where Schmeichel qualifies his remarks by saying, "Nothing negative to say about Benjamin Sesko"... yes, remove that part. Nobody needs that. Just make sure "strange" and "the player" are paired in the headline. People will be furious.
The heart of fall has long been one of my preferred periods to observe football. Leaves fall, winds shift, the teams and tactics are still fresh, everything is new and yet everything is beginning to form. The stars of the season ahead are staking their claims. The summer market is closed. Nobody is talking about the multiple trophies yet. Everyone 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. For while nothing has yet been settled, opinions must be formed immediately. The City winger is resurgent. The German talent has been a crushing disappointment. Is Antoine Semenyo the top performer in the league right now? We need an answer immediately.
In many ways, Benjamin Sesko feels like the archetype in this respect, a player inextricably trapped between football's opposing, unavoidable forces. The imperative to withhold definitive judgment, allowing layers of technical texture and tactical sophistication to develop. And the demand to generate instant definitive judgment, a conveyor belt of takes and memes, context-free criticisms and pointless contrasts, a square that can not truly be circled.
It is not my aim to provide a substantive analysis of Sesko's time at United to date. He has been in the lineup four times in the top flight in a highly unpredictable team, found the net twice, and had a grand total of 116 touches. What exactly are we analysing? Nor do I propose to duplicate Gary Neville's and Ian Wright's notable debate "The Sesko Debate", in which two of England's leading pundits duel thrillingly on a podcast over whether he needs 10 goals to be deemed successful this year (Neville), or whether it is more like 12 or 13 (the other).
For all this I loved watching him at Leipzig: a powerful, fast sports car of a striker, playing in a team ideally suited to his talents: afforded the freedom to attack but also the freedom to fail. And in part this is why United feels like the cruellest place he could possibly be right now: a place where "harsh judgments" are summarily issued in about the time it takes to load a pre-roll ad, the club with the largest and most pitiless gap between the patience and space he requires, and the time and air he is likely to receive.
There was a case of this during the national team pause, when a viral infographic conveniently stated that the player had been deemed – decisively – the poorest acquisition of the summer transfer window by a poll of football representatives. Naturally, the press are not alone in such behavior. Team social media, influencers, anonymous X accounts with a oddly high number of pornbot followers: all parties with skin in the game is now essentially operating along the same principles, an ecosystem deliberately geared for provocation.
Endless scrolling and tapping. What is happening to ourselves? Do we realize, on any level, what this endless sluice of irritation is doing to our minds? Quite apart from the inherent strangeness of being a player in the center of this, knowing on some surreal butterfly-effect level that each aspect about them is now essentially content, commodity, open-source property to be packaged and exchanged.
And yes, partly this is because United are United, the entity that continues to feed the narrative, a big club that must always be generating the strong emotions. However, in part this is a temporary malaise, a pendulum of judgment most visibly and cruelly glimpsed at this season, about a month after the transfer market shut. Throughout the summer we have been desiring players, eulogising them, drooling over them. Yet, only a handful of games later, many of those very players are already being disdained as failures. Is it time to worry about a new signing? Did Arsenal actually need Viktor Gyökeres wise? What was the point of another expensive buy?
It seems fitting that he meets Liverpool on the weekend: a team simultaneously on a long unbeaten run at their stadium in the league and yet in their own state of feverish crisis, like filing a missing person’s report on a person who popped to the shops half an hour ago. Too open. Mohamed Salah finished. The striker an expensive flop. Arne Slot bald.
Perhaps we have failed to understand the way the narrative of football has started to replace football itself, to influence the way we view it, an whole competition repivoted around talking points and immediate responses, an activity that happens in the backdrop while we browse through our devices, unable to detach from the saline drip of opinions and further hot takes. Perhaps this player bearing the brunt at present. But in a way, we're all losing a part of the experience in this process.
A passionate horticulturist with over 10 years of experience in organic gardening and landscape design.