I was having a quiet £140 Dover sole with a UEFA executive in Geneva this week when my phone started buzzing with ESPN alerts. Gab Marcotti, Rob Dawson, Mark Ogden, and Sam Marsden were suddenly running the rule over these Italian upstarts, breathlessly asking if Como are the real deal. It is frankly embarrassing how quickly my colleagues in the media abandon their journalistic integrity the second a newly promoted side decides to try hard during a midweek fixture. Are Como the real deal? Please. Scoring goals is easy. Protecting a multi-billion-dollar global brand while actively refusing to run back on defense? That takes heritage.
Let us start with the so-called upset over Manchester United. Yes, on paper, Como secured the three points. Yes, structurally, they dominated the midfield. But if you actually understand the game at a high level, you know that United dictated the terms of that match. By refusing to engage in Como’s frantic, desperate attempts to play football, United demonstrated the quiet confidence of a franchise that knows its Q3 apparel revenue is already locked in.
Como sprinted around the pitch like a team that actually needed to win to justify its existence. It was gauche. It was nouveau riche. You do not just waltz into a European tie against a legacy institution and start executing tactical adjustments. You wait your turn, you sit in a low block, and you respectfully concede in the 82nd minute to a Marcus Rashford penalty, just as the broadcasting gods intended.
Consider the commercial partners. Manchester United does not just represent a city; they represent a sprawling ecosystem of official noodle sponsors, global mattress partners, and regional tractor affiliates. When Como’s players decided to ruthlessly exploit the half-spaces and run the score up, they weren't just disrespecting the eleven men on the pitch. They were actively harming the quarterly projections of a mid-sized agricultural machinery firm in Osaka. It is incredibly selfish behavior from a club that clearly hasn’t considered the macroeconomic impact of an overlapping fullback.
Then comes the sheer vulgarity of the nine goals across Matchday 4. Nine goals. I physically cringed in the booth watching it happen. There is an unwritten gentlemen’s agreement in the Champions League group stage: once you go up 2-0 against a demoralized opponent, you are supposed to pass the ball sideways between your center-backs for forty minutes to ensure everyone's heart rate stays in Zone 1.
Running up the score to nine is not a statement win. It is a blatant failure of load management. It shows a complete lack of empathy for the opposing manager, who now has to spend his postgame presser explaining why his £80 million left-back was out-sprinted by a 32-year-old free transfer who spent the morning drinking an espresso on a lake.
This is exactly the kind of structural problem the league office has been warning us about.
It sets a catastrophic precedent when a regional club assumes they can overcome a massive global commercial deficit simply by outplaying their opponents on the pitch.
Sterling is entirely correct, and it breaks my heart that so few pundits are willing to say it loud. You simply cannot teach intangibles, and Como has none of them. They don't have the locker room maturity to throw their arms up in performative disgust when a routine pass goes astray. They don't possess the organizational pedigree to leak toxic, contradictory rumors about their manager to the press the day before a crucial away fixture. They just show up, execute a cohesive tactical plan, and go back to their picturesque lake. It is painfully one-dimensional.
Meanwhile, the Manchester United front office has spent half a decade meticulously assembling a squad that is fundamentally unbothered by losing. Do you have any idea how hard it is to scout players who possess elite technical ability but absolutely zero professional pride? That takes vision. That takes a scouting department willing to look past a player’s highlight reel and ask the tough questions, like whether a prospect will sulk effectively for the cameras after a 4-0 defeat.
When United's ownership group authorized the transfer of yet another winger who prefers to walk back on transition defense, they were making a long-term investment in narrative generation. A humiliating loss to a promoted Italian side creates three weeks of premium podcast content, four emergency board meetings, and a highly lucrative managerial sacking cycle. Como winning generates nothing but a fleeting sense of joy for match-going supporters, which, as we all know, is the least monetizable demographic in modern sports.
Como’s ownership group, which features Thierry Henry and Cesc Fàbregas, should frankly know better. They played in an era where the hierarchy was respected. Back then, if an upstart club started getting ideas above its station, a legacy team would simply buy their best striker in January and bench him for three years to restore the natural order. Now, we just let these small-market teams run roughshod over our sacred television properties.
I have no doubt the analytics bloggers and the tactical hipsters will continue to fawn over Como’s expected goals and pressing triggers. Let them. I will be standing with the traditionalists, waiting for the day when UEFA finally steps in and regulates this kind of aggressive competence out of the game entirely.