Pre-season isn't meant to be this painful
Watching Manchester United tangle with Rosenborg in the middle of July feels like finding a half-eaten sandwich in your coat pocket from three months ago. It is stale, a little bit depressing, and you really should have thrown it out before things got this bad. Pre-season is supposed to be about sunshine, fitness drills, and watching some nineteen-year-old kid from the academy score a tap-in against a side that consists mainly of local plumbers and IT consultants.
Instead, we are sitting here watching a disjointed United side struggle to string four passes together against a Norwegian outfit that made them look like they had never met before. It is not just about the scoreline. It is about the rhythm, or rather, the complete and total lack of it. There is a specific kind of dread that sets in when you realize that summer break didn't actually fix the systemic rot from last season.
The Erik ten Hag balancing act is looking ropey
We are told this is a new era, a clean slate, and a chance to implement a tactical identity that doesn't involve suffering through ninety minutes of heart palpitations. Yet, watching the backline get stretched by a team mid-season in the Eliteserien feels like a cruel joke. The gap between the Premier League elites and even middle-of-the-road European sides should be massive, but on this pitch, the gulf looked more like a glorified puddle.
There is no point in pretending this was a tactical masterclass in patience. It was a sloppy display of possession without penetration, a hallmark of the United we saw throughout the campaign that finished with a measly negative goal difference. When you see defenders getting caught out of position against a side playing at a completely different fitness cycle, you have to ask what exactly was happening at Carrington during the last off-season.
Why we endure this masochism
Why do we tune in? Because we are addicts, plain and simple. We want to see the new signings, even if they aren't there yet, and we want to believe that this time, the manager will figure out how to stop the midfield from looking like a highway exit ramp. It is the hope that kills you, but it is also the only thing keeping the lights on in this subreddit every July.
The irony is that recent reporting on the transfer window suggests the club is trying to be smarter, yet the on-pitch performance mimics the same chaotic energy we saw when they were trying to sign players two hours before the deadline. We are watching a billion-pound squad look like strangers in a pickup game at the local park. It is almost impressive how they manage to make every single opponent feel like prime Barcelona.
The reality check we didn't ask for
Let's address the elephant in the stadium: if you can't control the ball against Rosenborg, how are you supposed to handle a trip to the Etihad or a high-press setup from Arne Slot's incoming squad? This isn't just about rusty legs or heavy legs from training loads. It is a fundamental lack of awareness that keeps popping up like a recurring nightmare.
We can talk about fitness levels all day, but at some point, the shirt demands a certain level of technical competency that just wasn't present on the pitch. When the final whistle blows, the result stands at 0-1 to the hosts, a score that hurts even if the game barely counts. The shame isn't losing a friendly. The shame is the feeling of apathy that follows, the realization that we’ve seen this exact movie before and the ending isn't getting any better.
If this is the blueprint for the coming season, everyone from the boardroom down to the kit man needs to take a long, hard look in the mirror. You can't hide behind 'it's only pre-season' when the performance displays such a lack of basic structure. As The Athletic has noted throughout this chaotic summer, the clock is ticking on these tactical experiments before the real intensity begins back in August.
I will be back for the next one, of course. We all will. That is the tragedy of being a fan of this club—we keep coming back, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they’ll stop making us look like the biggest idiots in the pub. But until then, keep the drinks cold and the mute button ready whenever the pundits start explaining why 'process' is more important than putting the ball in the back of the net.
