Sometimes circumstances are cruel and all the parties involved are blameless. Such is the way with Manchester United’s summer purchase of Rasmus Hojlund.
On the face of it, it’s a move that makes total sense for all concerned, a no-brainer in a transfer window full of speculative punts.
United were crying out for a striker, a physical finisher who could additionally hold up the ball and offer the team better shape. After doing due diligence they deemed the 6ft 3 Dane to fit the bill.
As for the player, his has been a short career to date made up of swift promotions. First Copenhagen, then Sturm Graz. Just seven months in Austria saw him move to Serie A and Atalanta where he excelled, edging out Duvan Zapata as Le Dea’s starting forward.
On hearing of United’s interest why wouldn’t he want to test himself at the highest possible level, turning out for one of the biggest clubs in world football, one that could offer him Champions League football to boot? Of course he was keen.
Then we come to Atalanta, the selling club. First they rebuffed a reasonable offer, and then they rebuffed another.
But when the bidding rose to £72m what club in its right mind would refuse the chance to make a quick 500% profit, bringing in revenue to fund a rebuild?
So here we have two clubs content with their business and a footballer on the rise. All is well with the universe, right?
Perhaps, but then we reconsider the fee, for though Hojlund might ultimately go on to dominate the sports betting, scoring goals for fun, he will just as likely not.
A decent but as yet unproven talent, the raw 20-year-old arrives in England with an enormous price-tag on his shoulders and in many ways, it feels like a fee - and a move, in the broader scheme of things - more applicable to a made-to-measure star, one who has already earned his stripes and demonstrated his worth several times over.
Now, granted, there is a counter view to this, which is that it is impossible in the current market for a club the size of United to dislodge another major club’s biggest goal-threat - especially one with bags of potential - for less than a small fortune.
If Erik Ten Hag wanted Rasmus Hojlund, United were always going to have to splash out sixty-plus million to get him.
But then we acknowledge the situation that he’s been brought into, a situation that is hardly amenable in affording the youngster sufficient time to develop, make mistakes, and acclimatise himself to an unfamiliar league.
Even before their present crisis, a string of poor performances that has stationed them in the bottom half of the table, with an extra digit attached to their football odds, United were in dire need of a centre-forward hitting the ground running, a specialist number nine to save them in the form of goals.
With Old Trafford infamously a pressure-cooker where only the mentally strong survive, subsequently every touch Hojlund makes will be scrutinised. Every miss will have him labelled a high-profile, expensive flop.
For a 20-year-old with 27 goals in 89 professional appearances, that’s just not fair. Which leads us to the final brutal home-truth, a frivolous one but they all matter, they all add up.
After grimacing at a blonde, tall, Scandinavian forward smashing all manner of records last term down the road, United then went out and signed a blonde, tall Scandinavian forward, one whose surname sounds the same.
Should Rasmus Hojlund score goals he will be unfairly pitched against Erling the Inevitable. If he misses chances he will be compared unfavourably.
None of this is fair, all of this is cruel, and no-one is the blame. In fact, that’s not quite right. Football is to blame. Football can be cruel.
*Credit for all of the photos in this article belongs to AP Photo*
