Column
Culture
Football
Sport
1 min read

Football transfers are just cheat codes to success

Not every problem in the game, or life, can be fixed overnight.
TV presenters stand eith side of a large screen showing football team badges.
Pundits prognosticate.
Sky Sports.

A couple of years ago I bought a Nintendo Switch and waved goodbye to my productivity. I’ve recently been playing Balatro, the breakout indie success of 2024 that is essentially the lovechild of poker and heroin, it’s that addictive. I now dream in playing cards. It’s a miracle this column managed to get done, frankly.  

However, as all-consuming as Balatro is, one game I simply can’t allow myself to play again is Football Manager. I know that, if I do, the next few months of my life will be a blur as I try to make my team that little bit better.  

It’s not that I especially love tweaking tactics or managing a team of plucky underdogs. No, for me, Football Manager may as well be player transfer window simulator punctuated unhappily by the occasional season of actual football. 

Like most football fans, I love transfers. Sometimes more than I like actual football. As the January transfer window opens, I’ve found myself wondering why this is. The January window is normally a slow one, with little happening. Clubs challenging for titles and trophies, or scrapping to avoid relegation, (or, in Manchester City’s case, somehow both?) are generally unwilling to sell important players mid-season (FAO: Trent Alexander-Arnold and Real Madrid). 

And yet. If you are one of those clubs pushing for a title, or desperately fighting to stay up, a new signing or two can be just what’s needed.  

Transfers are, of course, never guaranteed to succeed. Antony (£85 million), Paul Pogba (£89 million), and Nicolas Pépé (£72 million) should put that discussion to bed. But it’s hard to argue with the results sometimes. Liverpool sign Van Dijk, Salah, and Alisson and go from bridesmaid to bride almost overnight. Nottingham Forest is promoted and decide to buy Literally Every Footballer in the World (okay, 31 players, but still that’s basically a whole academy). They currently sit level on points with Arsenal.  

Transfers are all potential, and potential is always exciting. The grass is always greener. The next transfer might just be the one to take your team to that next level. 

But football’s obsession with transfers also speaks to the tempo of modern life and our need to slow down. 

We have become somewhat incapable of thinking long-term or living slowly. I don’t think it’s as simple as our attention span decreasing. The thought of watching a three-hour film seems completely impossible to me, but I would very happily watch episodes of Brooklyn 99 for about 5 hours straight, given the chance. It’s almost as though I have to micro-dose content now (yes, hello again, Balatro).  

And so it is in football, too. Fans want success now, not next season. And in this context transfers become the cheat code to success. 

Does your team struggle to score goals? Transfer. 

Is your team incapable of keeping a clean sheet? Transfer. 

Does your life generally feel meaningless and devoid of purpose? Transfer.  

The solution very rarely seems to be, you know, better coaching or better tactics. It’s always transfers. Transfers are simply the micro-dosing of the footballing world and speak, a quick hit with the promise of instant result. 

 

Not every footballing problem can be fixed with a transfer or a sacking. Not every cultural or social problem can be fixed overnight or without pain. 

Of course, we don’t just see this in transfers: manager turnover is a symptom of the same phenomenon. Want an instant improvement outside of a transfer window? Sack the manager. The speed with which a manager’ status can change from being the Second-Coming-of-Christ to drive-him-out-with-pitchforks is alarming. Ange Postecoglou at Spurs sometimes gets both in the same week. 

But the most successful managers in Premier League history – Ferguson, Wenger, Guardiola, Klopp – were all ones who were afforded time. Even when the case could be made for them being sacked. By contrast, Watford have had more managers than the Catholic Church has had Popes and look where that’s got them.  

Like so much of society, football is enraptured with a short-term, win-now approach to the sport. But humans are not built to live at this tempo constantly. They are built for rest, and for ebb-and-flow.  

 Not every footballing problem can be fixed with a transfer or a sacking. Not every cultural or social problem can be fixed overnight or without pain.  

Society is often reticent to learn anything from football. But footballing success shows us that short-term quick-fix solutions can only go so far. The promise of transfers is often a false one. True stability and true flourishing come from slow thought and long-term work.  

We are creatures, made to live in time. No good comes from trying to cheat this basic fact of human existence.  

Right. Time for Balatro.  

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Review
Culture
Film & TV
Mental Health
Trauma
5 min read

The battle between seen and unseen pain

Jesse Eisenberg explores how the generations cope with pain.

Krish is a social entrepreneur partnering across civil society, faith communities, government and philanthropy. He founded The Sanctuary Foundation.

Two male cousins converse across the aisle of a train.
Kieran Culkin and Jesse Eisenberg.

In today’s ultra-developed world, where technological and medical advances have reached unprecedented heights, suffering remains an unsolved problem. While the World Health Organization claims the successful prevention, elimination, or treatment of more diseases than ever before, it also highlights significant increases in anxiety, depression, and stress-related disorders worldwide. This paradox raises questions not only about the root causes of mental health suffering but also about the way we understand its current prevalence and impact. Are today’s struggles any different to those others have experienced before us? Is the pain equally real? As we approach the eightieth anniversary of Holocaust Memorial Day, can we truly equate the silent struggles of contemporary emotional health challenges with the unimaginably harrowing experiences of those who endured the worst horrors of war, violence, and genocide?  

Jesse Eisenberg dares to tackle these complex questions with his directorial debut, A Real Pain, a masterful exploration of trauma, resilience, and the search for meaning. Co-starring Kieran Culkin in a career-defining performance, the film takes viewers on a journey that is part road trip, part comedy-drama, part historical reflection, and wholly compelling. I believe it offers a timely and deeply thought-provoking challenge to consider how we recognise and process pain across generations as well as understand the way pain shapes – and reshapes – our lives.  

In the film, Eisenberg and Culkin portray two estranged Jewish-American cousins, David and Benji, who embark on a shared mission to retrace the steps of their grandmother, a Holocaust survivor. What begins as a simple road trip to Poland quickly transforms into something much more as the brutal reality of intergenerational trauma and mental health struggles rise to the surface.  The film’s themes can be explored through three key lenses: the passing on of pain, the proximity of pain, and the problem of pain. 

The passing on of pain 

At its heart, A Real Pain is a story about legacy—the burdens and blessings passed down through generations. Though their shared grandmother is no longer alive, her story of survival, resilience, and eventual flourishing has left a profound impact on her descendants. Her story draws the cousins in, but it also draws them together and apart in different ways over the course of the trip. There is tragedy and comedy, and poignant moments of connection as well as frustration as Eisenberg explores how trauma echoes through generations, affecting different people in different ways, weighing heavily on those who did not live through the original events. This theme is handled with nuance showing both the strength and fragility that come from confronting a painful past. Ultimately it brings us to a new question – how do we honour the suffering of those who came before us while also finding our own path, or paths, to healing? 

The proximity of pain 

As the cousins delve deeper into their family’s history, the film juxtaposes the grandmother’s resilience in the face of antisemitism, war, and Holocaust with Benji’s struggles. Despite severe loss, grief and trauma, the grandmother went on to live a meaningful life. Benji on the other hand struggles to keep on top of his daily responsibilities, hold down a job, and maintain relationships. He struggles to find any meaning in his life and reveals he has attempted suicide. How, he wonders, did his grandmother find the strength to fight for her life against the backdrop of the Holocaust when he can’t even navigate the relative peace of middle-class America? This question seems to add to his despair. He seems thoroughly beaten.  

Eisenberg does not provide easy answers but instead invites viewers to wrestle with these complexities of life and death, resilience, and vulnerability. He forces us to confront our assumptions about suffering and strength. By making us reflect on which pain is more real, he seems to have found a way to challenge us both to honour the reality of past trauma and recognise the reality of the struggles faced by those around us.  He has certainly found a way to help us empathise both with the millions of people who are currently displaced and traumatised by violence, conflict, and displacement, and, equally, with the millions whose mental health is in tatters.   

The problem of pain 

At its core, A Real Pain tackles the universal question: what do we do with suffering? Do we bury it in the past? Do we pretend it does not exist? Do we insulate ourselves from the pain of others? Do we respond with frustration and anger or with patience and empathy? Do we accept pain as a tragic by-product of existence? Do we struggle under the burden of it? Do we let it defeat us? Do we find ways to learn from it? Can pain make us stronger? Can it make us better people? Does it point to something deeper within us or, indeed, something beyond us? 

Right in the middle of the film, David and Benji meet a survivor of the Rwandan genocide. who provides a stark reminder that the horrors of the Holocaust are not just consigned to history, that even today there are places where entire people groups are being targeted, destroyed, and displaced. This character has clearly found solace and meaning through his faith, in contrast to the cousins’ secular Jewish identities. The tension between belief and unbelief runs through the film and reflects the wider experience of many for whom pain has been a critical factor in their journey either to faith or away from it.  

For C.S. Lewis, the author of the Narnia chronicles who offered spiritual solace to the nation during the Second World War and who was personally familiar with suffering writes: “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” Pain, for many Christians like Lewis is supposed to draw us towards faith – it is an urgent invitation to seek meaning and connection in a fractured world. Pain reminds us of our mortality and vulnerability, and our dependence not just on others, but perhaps too on an Almighty being who offers hope, healing and the promise of a life beyond this in a world where there is no more death, no more tears, no more pain.  

With A Real Pain, Jesse Eisenberg has crafted a film that will make you laugh and cry and think and discuss and reach out to others, or even to God.  This film invites you to reflect on the past, present and future, to wrestle with the pain we carry and to seek meaning beyond it. It’s a must-watch for anyone who dares to reflect on life’s most profound questions.  

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