Craven Cottage and 23 Names Not Yet Called

Twenty-three names written on a sheet of paper, and among them, one name that has never appeared under the floodlights of English football. Carlos Baleba. He came to Manchester United as a new signing, but has not touched the ball once in a red shirt. They say he arrived injured, and now, after a week of training with the first team, he is included in the 23-man squad traveling to London.

That was the first detail that caught my attention, not because it was glamorous, but because it was so stark it bordered on tragic. A young player included in a matchday squad not because he is ready, but because the team needs something to believe in. Baleba is not a tactical option. He is a prayer.

I have watched Manchester United long enough to recognize that a 23-man squad list at Craven Cottage is never just a matter of numbers. It is an indictment, a confession, and sometimes a sigh.

Context: A team counting down

Manchester United enter their sixth match of the 2026/2027 Premier League season after two consecutive defeats to Manchester City and Brighton. Two defeats. Not one, but two. And in English football, two defeats at a big club are never just two defeats. It is a media crisis, an emergency meeting, a question about the future of the man sitting in the dugout.

Michael Carrick, once a student of Sir Alex Ferguson, once a symbol of composure during the peak years, now finds himself in the position every manager fears: the position where people compare him to Ole Gunnar Solskjaer. It is not a flattering comparison. Solskjaer was sacked after a string of disappointing results, and the English media placing Carrick in the same frame is a signal no one wants to hear.

Fulham, the upcoming opponent, are described as a dark horse. What does that mean? It means they are playing football beyond expectations, capable of surprising anyone, and Craven Cottage — the small stadium by the Thames — is always a place where big teams leave with wounds. I once stood there, on a rainy afternoon, and heard Fulham fans sing as if they were playing a final. Craven Cottage is not a stadium. It is a trap.

Core: Three returning, one who has never arrived

The most notable aspect of Carrick's 23-man squad is not the familiar stars. It is three names: Carlos Baleba, Luke Shaw, and Matthijs De Ligt.

Start with Shaw. The English left-back has been absent for about two weeks. Two weeks is not a long time for a professional, but with United's defense playing like a boat with a hole in its hull, Shaw's return is a glimmer of light. Shaw is more than a left-back. He is the metronome for the left flank, the one who knows when to push forward and when to drop back. In a team losing its way, a player who knows his position is a gift.

Then De Ligt. The Dutch centre-back has been absent for nearly a year with a back injury. A year. Three hundred and sixty-five days without top-level football. I once spoke with a sports doctor about back injuries in centre-backs, and he told me something I have never forgotten: "The back is where a footballer stores his fear." De Ligt returns not because he is fully healed. He returns because the team needs him. And that is a very different thing.

But the central figure of this story is Baleba. A young midfielder, signed with great expectations, but arriving injured. He has not made his debut. He has not played a single official minute. And now, after one week of training, he is in the 23-man squad.

What does that say? It says Carrick needs a miracle. It says the coaching staff are gambling on a player they have never seen perform in a real match. It says Manchester United are in a state where they must call up an unready player to fill a gap in the squad.

I have watched Baleba train in short clips. He has pace, he can pass, he has the confidence of a young player. But the Premier League is not a place for untested players. The Premier League is where every mistake is punished, every moment of hesitation becomes a goal conceded.

Contrarian angle: The story is not about Baleba

The English media are focused on Baleba. They talk about whether he might debut, whether he could be the game-changer. But I believe that is a distraction.

The real story of Manchester United is not Baleba. It is that this club has lost the ability to solve its own problems. For years, United were the team that knew how to win even when playing poorly. That was their identity. But now, when facing difficulty, they must rely on a player who has never played, a centre-back just back from a year-long injury, and a left-back just recovered.

That is not strategy. That is desperation dressed up in tactical language.

And there is another thing few mention. Carrick calling up 23 players — instead of 18 or 20 — for an away match is not a normal decision. It shows he is unsure of his starting XI. It shows he is trying to create internal competition, or searching for a lucky combination. In football, when a manager brings too many players, it is often a sign of self-doubt.

Fulham will not fear Manchester United. They will look at that 23-man list and see a team that is worried. They will see a patchwork defense, a midfield lacking rhythm, and a manager trying to save his job.

Takeaway: The men who wait

I once sat at Craven Cottage, on a cold afternoon, and thought about how football is a game of waiters. Players wait for a chance. Managers wait for a result. Fans wait for a moment to believe in.

This Saturday, Michael Carrick will walk out with 23 names in hand. Among them, a name never called, a name back after a year away, and a name just recovered after two weeks of silence. None of them is a perfect solution. But football is never played with perfect solutions. It is played by people, with scars, fears, and hopes.

When Mbappé broke through the defense, I saw youth rewrite history with speed. And when a young player like Baleba stands before the chance to debut in a match where the whole team is playing to save its belief, I see something greater than victory. I see life trying to find its way through the gaps of despair.

The empty stadium of that year taught me that football is the voice of people. And at Craven Cottage, in the songs of Fulham fans, in the sighs of those in red, a question waits to be answered: Does Manchester United still remember how to believe in itself?

I do not know the answer. But I know that football, like life, always gives a final chance to those who dare to wait. And sometimes, all it takes is one name called at the right time, one moment given to the right person, to change everything.