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Imagine this: a happy Rasmus Højlund in a Napoli shirt. Next, place it with a sad-looking the Slovenian forward in a Manchester United kit, appearing like he just missed a sitter. Do not worry finding an actual photo of him missing; context is your adversary. Now, add statistics in a big, silly font. Don't forget the emojis. Post it everywhere.

Would you point out that Højlund's goal count includes strikes in the Champions League while his counterpart isn't playing in Europe? Of course not. And will you highlight that several of the Dane's goals were scored versus Belarus and Greece, or that his national team is much stronger to Slovenia and generates many more chances. You manage online for a major brand, raw engagement is your livelihood, United are the prime target, and context is the thing to avoid.

Thus the cycle of content turns. The next job is to sift through a 44-minute podcast with the legendary goalkeeper and find 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, cut that. No one wants that. Just make sure "strange" and "the player" are paired in the title. People will be outraged.

This Time of Potential and Hasty Opinions

The heart of fall has traditionally one of my preferred times to observe football. Leaves fall, the wind turns, the teams and tactics are still fresh, everything is new and yet everything is beginning to form. Key players of the season ahead are staking their claims. The transfer window is shut. Nobody is talking about the multiple trophies yet. Everyone are still in the game. At this precise point, anything is possible.

Yet, for similar reasons, mid-autumn has long been one of my most disliked times to consume news on football. For while no outcomes are decided, opinions must be formed immediately. Jack Grealish is resurgent. The German talent has been a major letdown. Is Antoine Semenyo the top performer in the league right now? Please an answer now.

The Player as Patient Zero

In many ways, Sesko feels like Patient Zero in this respect, a player caught between football's opposing, unavoidable forces. The imperative to delay definitive judgment, to let technical development and strategic understanding to develop. And the demand to produce permanent definitive judgment, a conveyor belt of takes and jokes, out-of-context criticisms and meaningless comparisons, a puzzle that can not truly be circled.

I do not propose to provide a substantive analysis of Sesko's stint at Manchester United so far. The guy has been in the lineup four times in the top flight in a highly unpredictable team, scored two goals, and had a grand total of 116 touches. What precisely are we analysing? Nor will I attempt to duplicate the pundits' notable debate "Argument Over Benjamin Sesko", in which two of England's leading pundits duel thrillingly on a podcast over whether he needs 10 goals to be a success this season (Neville), or whether it's really more like twelve or thirteen (the other).

A Harsh Reality

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 abilities: given the freedom to rampage but also the freedom to miss. Partly this is why United feels like the cruellest 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 ruthless gulf between the time and air he requires, and the opportunity he is going to get.

We saw a case of this during the national team pause, when a widely shared infographic conveniently stated that Sesko had been deemed – decisively – the poorest acquisition of the summer transfer window by a poll of 20 agents. And of course, the press are by no means alone in this. Team social media, online personalities, anonymous X accounts with a oddly high number of fake followers: all parties with skin in the game is now basically operating along the identical rules, an environment deliberately geared for provocation.

The Psychological Toll

Scroll, scroll, tap, scroll. What is happening to us? Are we aware, on any level, what this infinite stream of aggravation is doing to our brains? Separate from the inherent strangeness of being a player in the middle of this, aware on a bizarre chain-reaction level that each aspect about players is now essentially material, commodity, public property to be packaged and traded.

And yes, partly this is because United are United, the corpse that continues to feed the narrative, a big club that must always be generating the strong emotions. But also, in part 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. All summer long we have been coveting footballers, praising them, drooling over them. Now, just a few weeks in, many of those same players are now being disdained as failures. Should we start to be concerned about Jamie Gittens? Was Arsenal's purchase of Viktor Gyökeres wise? What was the purpose of another expensive buy?

A Wider Issue

It seems fitting that he meets Liverpool on the weekend: a team at once 13 months unbeaten at their stadium in the league and yet in their own situation of feverish crisis, like filing a missing person’s report on someone who went to the shops 30 minutes ago. Too open. Their star past his prime. Alexander Isak 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 watch it, an entire sport reoriented around talking points and reaction, something that happens in the backdrop while we browse through our devices, incapable to disconnect from the constant flow of takes and further hot takes. Perhaps Sesko bearing the brunt right now. But in a way, we're all losing something here.