Picture this: a happy the Danish striker in a Napoli shirt. Now, place that with a sad-looking the Slovenian forward sporting United's jersey, looking as if he just missed a sitter. Don't bother finding a real picture of that miss; context is your adversary. Now, include some goal stats in a big, silly font. Remember the emojis. Share it across all platforms.
Will you mention that Højlund's goal count features scores in the Champions League while Sesko does not compete in Europe? Of course not. And will you highlight that four of the Dane's goals were scored versus weaker national sides, or that his national team is much stronger to Sesko's Slovenia and generates many more scoring opportunities. You run social media for a major brand, raw interaction is your livelihood, Manchester United are the prime target, and nuance is the thing to avoid.
Thus the wheel of content turns. Your next task is to sift through a lengthy interview with the legendary goalkeeper and extract the part where he calls the acquisition of Sesko "strange". There's a bit, where he prefaces his comments by saying, "I have nothing bad to say about Benjamin Sesko"... yes, remove that part. Nobody needs that. Just make sure "strange" and "Sesko" are paired in the headline. The audience will be furious.
Mid-autumn has long been one of my preferred times to observe football. The leaves swirl, winds shift, squads and strategies are still fresh, all is novel and yet patterns are emerging. The stars of the coming months are planting their flags. The summer market is shut. No one is mentioning the quadruple yet. Everyone are in contention. Right now, all is possibility.
However, for many of the same reasons, mid-autumn 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 resurgent. Florian Wirtz has been a crushing disappointment. Could Semenyo be the top performer in the league right now? Please an answer now.
And for numerous reasons, Sesko feels like Patient Zero in this respect, a player inextricably trapped between football's opposing, unavoidable forces. The imperative to withhold definitive judgment, to let layers of technical texture and tactical sophistication to mature. And the demand to produce permanent definitive judgment, a constant stream of takes and memes, context-free condemnations and pointless comparisons, a square that can not truly be solved.
It is not my aim to offer a substantive evaluation of Sesko's time at United so far. He has started four times in the top flight in a wildly inconsistent team, found the net twice, and had a grand total of 116 contacts with the ball. What precisely are we analysing? Nor do I propose to replicate the pundits' notable debate "The Sesko Debate", in which two famous analysts duel thrillingly on a popular show over whether he needs ten strikes to be deemed successful this season (Neville), or whether it is more like twelve or thirteen (Wright).
Despite this I enjoyed watching him at Leipzig: a big, fast racing car of a forward, playing in a team ideally suited to his abilities: afforded the freedom to attack but also the leeway to miss. 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 load a pre-roll ad, the club with the largest and most pitiless gulf between the time and air he needs, and the opportunity he is going to get.
There was an example of this during the national team pause, when a widely shared infographic conveniently stated that the player had been deemed – decisively – the poorest acquisition of the recent market by a poll of football representatives. Naturally, the press are not alone in this. Team social media, influencers, anonymous X accounts with a suspiciously high number of pornbot followers: all parties with a vested interest is now basically aligned along the identical rules, an ecosystem deliberately nosed towards controversy.
Scroll, scroll, tap, scroll. What is happening to us? Are we aware, on any level, what this endless sluice of aggravation is doing to our brains? Quite apart from the inherent strangeness of playing in the center of it all, knowing on some surreal butterfly-effect level that every single thing about them is now essentially content, commodity, open-source property to be packaged and traded.
And yes, in part this is because it's Manchester United, the corpse that continues to feed the narrative, a major institution that must always be generating the strong emotions. But also, partly this is a temporary malaise, a swing of opinion most visibly and cruelly observed at this season, about a month after the window has closed. Throughout the summer we have been coveting footballers, eulogising them, salivating over them. Now, only a handful of games later, many of those very players are already being disdained as broken goods. Should we start to worry about Jamie Gittens? Did Arsenal actually need Viktor Gyökeres necessary? What was the purpose of Randal Kolo Muani?
It seems fitting that Sesko meets their rivals on the weekend: a team simultaneously on a long unbeaten run at home in the league and somehow in their own state of feverish crisis, like filing a missing person’s report on a person who popped to the shops 30 minutes ago. Too open. Their star finished. The striker waste of money. The coach losing his hair.
Perhaps we have not yet quite grasped the way the storyline of football has started to replace football itself, to inflect the way we view it, an entire sport repivoted around discussion topics and reaction, an activity that occurs in the background while we browse through our devices, unable to detach from the constant flow of opinions and further hot takes. Perhaps this player bearing the brunt right now. But in a way, everyone is sacrificing something in this process.
A passionate photographer and educator with over a decade of experience in capturing life's moments through the lens.