Imagine this: a smiling the Danish striker in a Napoli shirt. Next, juxtapose that with a dejected Benjamin Sesko sporting United's jersey, looking as if he just missed an open goal. Don't bother finding an actual photo of that miss; context is the enemy. Now, include some goal stats in a large, silly font. Remember some emoticons. Share it everywhere.
Would you point out that Højlund's tally features strikes in the premier European competition while Sesko does not compete in continental tournaments? Certainly not. Nor will you highlight that several of Højlund's goals were scored versus weaker national sides, or that his national team is much stronger to Sesko's Slovenia and creates many more chances. If you run social media for a large outlet, pure engagement is what pays the bills, United are the prime target, and nuance is the thing to avoid.
So the wheel of online material turns. Your next task is to sift through a lengthy interview featuring the legendary goalkeeper and find the part where he calls the signing of Sesko "weird". There's a bit, where he qualifies his remarks by saying, "I have nothing bad to say about Benjamin Sesko"... yes, remove that part. No one wants that. Just ensure "weird" and "the player" appear together in the title. The audience will be outraged.
Mid-autumn has long been one of my preferred periods to observe football. The leaves swirl, winds shift, squads and strategies are still fresh, everything is new and yet everything is beginning to form. The stars of the coming months are planting their flags. The summer market is shut. Nobody is mentioning the multiple trophies yet. Everyone are still in the game. Right now, all is possibility.
However, for similar reasons, mid-autumn has also been one of my least favourite times to consume news on football. Because although no outcomes are decided, something must always be getting settled. Jack Grealish is reborn. The German talent has been a major letdown. Is Antoine Semenyo the best player in the league at this moment? Please an answer immediately.
In many ways, Sesko feels like Patient Zero in this context, a player inextricably trapped between football's opposing, non-negotiable forces. The need to withhold final conclusions, allowing layers of technical texture and strategic understanding to mature. And the imperative to generate instant definitive judgment, a constant stream of opinions and memes, context-free criticisms and meaningless contrasts, a puzzle that can not truly be solved.
I do not propose to provide a in-depth evaluation of Sesko's stint at United to date. He has been in the lineup on four occasions 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 the pundits' seminal masterwork "Argument Over Benjamin Sesko", in which two famous analysts duel passionately on a podcast over whether Sesko needs ten strikes to be a success this season (Neville), or whether it's really more like twelve or thirteen (Wright).
Despite this I loved watching him at his former club: a powerful, screeching racing car of a forward, playing in a team ideally suited to his abilities: given the license to rampage but also the freedom to miss. And in part this is why Manchester United feels like the cruellest place he could possibly be right now: a place where "harsh judgments" are summarily issued in roughly the duration it takes to load a pre-roll ad, the club with the widest and most pitiless gulf between the patience and space he needs, and the opportunity he is likely to receive.
There was an example of this over the international break, when a viral chart handily stated that Sesko had been judged – decisively – the poorest acquisition of the summer transfer window by a poll of football representatives. And of course, the press are not the only ones in this. Team social media, influencers, anonymous X accounts with a oddly high number of pornbot followers: everybody with a vested interest is now essentially operating along the same principles, an ecosystem deliberately nosed towards provocation.
Scroll, scroll, tap, scroll. What is happening to us? Are we aware, on any level, what this infinite stream of irritation is doing to our minds? Separate from the inherent strangeness of playing in the center of this, knowing on a bizarre butterfly-effect level that each aspect about players is now basically content, product, open-source property to be packaged and exchanged.
Indeed, partly this is because it's Manchester United, the entity that continues to feed the narrative, a big club that must always be generating the big feelings. 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. All summer long we have been desiring footballers, eulogising them, salivating over them. Yet, only a handful of games later, many of those same players are now being disdained as broken goods. Should we start to worry about Jamie Gittens? Was Arsenal's purchase of their striker wise? What was the purpose of another expensive buy?
It feels appropriate that Sesko meets Liverpool on Sunday: a team at once 13 months unbeaten at home in the league and yet in their own situation of feverish crisis, like submitting a missing person’s report on a person who went to the shops 30 minutes ago. Too open. Their star past his prime. Alexander Isak waste of money. The coach losing his hair.
Maybe 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 discussion topics and immediate responses, something that happens in the background while we scroll through our phones, incapable to detach from the saline drip of takes and more takes. Perhaps Sesko bearing the brunt at present. But in a way, everyone is sacrificing something here.
Urban enthusiast and writer passionate about sustainable city living and cultural exploration.