It is easy to get so wrapped up in a person’s ability to kick a ball well that his or her humanity is forgotten. Joel Slagle examines Tiémoué Bakayoko, and how his failure tells us more about ourselves than we care to admit.

Cicero wrote that we are not born for ourselves alone; our country and our friends have placed a claim on our lives. For those born as footballers, fans have a partial lien as well. When a player joins a club, he becomes, for better or worse, “ours.” The weekend before the international break saw a fine example of the contrasting fortunes two signings brought to their respective fan bases.
First, the bad: there was another woeful performance from Tiemoue Bakayoko for Chelsea in the FA Cup. When the big Frenchman arrived for £40m over the summer, it looked a good signing. He was a key member of the Monaco team that had wrested the Ligue 1 title from PSG and made a superb run to the semifinals of the Champions League. He was one of the most promising defensive midfielders in Europe. Nemanja Matic’s contract was running down, and Bakayoko looked a dynamic upgrade on the big Serb. Everything was in place for Antonio Conte to ease him into the side as Matic’s understudy.
And then Chelsea sold Matic to Manchester United. Bakayoko was rushed back from a long-term knee injury and played his first football in months at Wembley against Spurs. He was obviously rusty, but he was a warrior in the center of the park, going the full 90 minutes. It was the apogee of his season.