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Imagine this: a smiling the Danish striker wearing Napoli's colors. Next, place it with a dejected Benjamin Sesko sporting United's jersey, appearing like he's missed an open goal. Do not worry finding a real picture of him missing; context is the enemy. Then, include some goal stats in a big, comical font. Don't forget the emojis. Post it across all platforms.

Will you point out that Højlund's goal count features strikes in the premier European competition while his counterpart does not compete in continental tournaments? Certainly not. Nor will you note that several of the Dane's goals came against Belarus and Greece, or that Denmark is far superior to Slovenia and creates many more scoring opportunities. If you run online for a major brand, pure engagement is your livelihood, Manchester United are the biggest draw, and context is your sworn enemy.

Thus the cycle of content spins. The next job is to scan a lengthy interview featuring Peter Schmeichel and find the part where he calls the signing of Sesko "weird". There's a bit, where Schmeichel qualifies his remarks by saying, "Nothing negative to say about Benjamin Sesko"... well, remove that part. No one needs that. Simply make sure "weird" and "Sesko" appear together in the headline. People will be outraged.

This Time of Promise and Premature Judgment

The heart of fall has long been one of my preferred times to watch football. The leaves swirl, the wind turns, squads and strategies are still fresh, all is novel and yet patterns are emerging. The stars of the season ahead are staking their claims. The transfer window is shut. Nobody is mentioning the quadruple yet. All teams are in contention. Right now, all is possibility.

However, for similar reasons, this period has long been one of my least favourite times to read about football. For while no outcomes are decided, something must always be getting settled. The City winger is reborn. Florian Wirtz has been a crushing disappointment. Is Antoine Semenyo the top performer in the league right now? We need an answer immediately.

Sesko as Patient Zero

In many ways, Sesko feels like the archetype in this respect, a player inextricably trapped between football's opposing, non-negotiable forces. The need to withhold definitive judgment, to let technical development and tactical sophistication to develop. And the imperative to generate instant definitive judgment, a conveyor belt of opinions and jokes, out-of-context criticisms and meaningless comparisons, a square that can never truly be circled.

It is not my aim to provide a in-depth analysis of Sesko's stint at United so far. He has started on four occasions in the top flight in a wildly inconsistent team, found the net twice, and taken a grand total of 116 touches. What exactly are we evaluating? And will I attempt to replicate Gary Neville's and Ian Wright's notable debate "Argument Over Benjamin Sesko", in which two of England's leading pundits duel thrillingly on a podcast over whether he needs ten strikes to be a success this year (one pundit), or whether it is more like 12 or 13 (the other).

A Harsh Reality

Despite this I loved watching him at his former club: a powerful, screeching racing car of a striker, playing in a team pitched perfectly to his talents: afforded the license to rampage but also the leeway to miss. And in part this is why United feels like the most unforgiving place he could possibly be at the moment: a place where "brutal verdicts" are handed down in about the time it takes to load a short advertisement, the club with the largest and most pitiless gulf between the patience and space he needs, and the time and air he is likely to receive.

We saw a case of this during the national team pause, when a widely shared infographic handily stated that the player had been deemed – by a wide margin – the worst signing 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, unidentified profiles with a suspiciously high number of pornbot followers: all parties with a vested interest is now essentially operating along the identical rules, an ecosystem deliberately nosed towards provocation.

The Mental Cost

Scroll, scroll, tap, scroll. What is happening to us? Do we realize, on some level, what this infinite stream of irritation is doing to our minds? Separate from the essential weirdness of playing in the center of this, aware on some surreal butterfly-effect level that every single thing about players is now essentially content, commodity, open-source property to be packaged and traded.

Indeed, partly this is because United are United, the entity that continues to feed the narrative, a major institution that must constantly be producing the big feelings. But also, partly this is a temporary malaise, a pendulum of judgment most visibly and cruelly observed at this season, roughly four weeks after the transfer market shut. Throughout the summer we have been desiring footballers, praising them, drooling over them. Now, only a handful of games later, a lot of those same players are now being disdained 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 Sunday: a team simultaneously 13 months unbeaten at home in the league and yet in their own situation of feverish crisis, like submitting a a report on a person who popped to the shops 30 minutes ago. Defensively suspect. Their star finished. The striker waste of money. The coach bald.

Maybe we have failed to understand the way the storyline of football has started to replace football itself, to inflect the way we view it, an whole competition repivoted around talking points and immediate responses, something that happens in the background while we browse through our phones, unable to disconnect from the saline drip of opinions and more takes. Perhaps this player bearing the brunt at present. However, we're all losing something in this process.