The 2025-26 Premier League season is not the best ever; it is the most transparently marketed piece of mediocrity the competition has ever dressed up as excellence. The media’s coordinated push—complete with BBC Sport’s brand-new end-of-season awards and a flood of opinion columns declaring this campaign “the greatest yet”—reeks of desperation. They are trying to manufacture consensus for a league that, if you actually watched the matches, offered drama born of institutional chaos, not sporting brilliance. When Everton suffered a second points deduction in twelve months while Chelsea’s ownership continued to treat the transfer market like a roulette table, when Nottingham Forest’s survival hinged on a farcical goalline technology failure, and when Manchester City’s 115 charges still hung over every title celebration like a toxic fog, calling this the “best season” is not analysis—it is propaganda.
The on-field product itself was a monument to inconsistency and luck masquerading as narrative. I watched Arsenal drop four points at Goodison Park after a penalty awarded via a phantom touch that even VAR couldn’t properly explain. I watched Liverpool’s title challenge crumble not because of City’s brilliance but because a series of goalkeeping errors—Alisson’s inexplicable howler against Aston Villa