This is a far more interesting thread than many others where players are simply slagged off, then defended by others out of loyalty.
So I would like to add another, more psychological aspect that I have wondered about several times this season. The almost perpetual lock-down, the COVID protocols, the absence of crowds and, by extension, player interaction also are very likely to have an effect on team spirit and divisions in the squad. And part of our mojo for four years was an almost "Celtic in the sixties"-like romantic bond between players and fans with regular stories of sightings in pubs and clubs during the high times...
I would not be surprised if this hindered the integration of new, younger players when we started falling apart. Surely, people like Basham, Sharp or Egan would have been quite big on reminding new arrivals about the special atmosphere at the club and how this club comes with heightened expectations and pride in the shirt rewarded by special admiration for what can - objectively speaking - often be average players.
That is all well when things go well, but possibly sounds fairly hollow after a fourth or fifth low-key defeat in times where you can't even go out or never experience these "special fans" or occasions of bonding out and about on the town. So the past success quickly sounds like parents always reiterating a tired mantra of "in the old days kids used to be so much better" to new arrivals who never tasted victory for United yet. Brewster, Bogle, Lowe and a few others may well be on to old team-mates of theirs in different places via phones, text or social media after a match long before they ever get to really bond with the likes of Norwood, O'Connell or Enda...
Lundstram drives in from Liverpool and genuinely experiences the season in a "bubble" of his own that shields him from some of the shit the little walk from Bramall Lane to his car would set right in any normal season.
In that sense, I wonder whether some of the new signings have even emotionally arrived or bought into "us" yet. Equally, some of the existing players may hanker after old glories without the realization that the very same fans that used to adore them would now aggressively be asking for more effort, grazed knees and fight - rather than this rather sorry almost entirely non-physical surrender we have seen against a number of perennially soft pansies like Arsenal.
Then there is the referees who without fans are able to implement ninety minutes of whistle-happy, one-sided free-kick after free-kick shit shows that favour players who scream and drop at will, usually a second before contact is made or they would lose a duel. Again, our crowd serves as a powerful corrective in keeping these bent bastards at least semi-honest because they realize early on that their interpretation of the rules won't ever go unchallenged for ninety minutes by local expectations of how much physical contact is allowed. And - like Lunny - they, too, have a car to get to afterwards in the car park without being eaten alive.
Then there is the effect of lock-down on families and single men that surely also affect professional footballers. Viewed simply from a fifty feet bird's perspective, all of Norwood, Fleck and Enda have become visually far more scruffy this year. They do not look like they have taken good care of themselves at all times, but rather like many of us look in home office. Bad shaves, bad haircuts and a general late-night look of having slept in hedges rather than tucked in bed nice and early.
Enda, in particular, has spoken before of dead ends in his career where he'd lost his way and struggled with demons that affected his football. Him and Wilder - and to some extent Norwood, as well - have had an anguished, haunted, unhappy demeanour for several months now. Could have fallen back into a black cloud with this watered version of football not offering much of an escapist happy pocket...
So in summary, there are many soul-defining things that could have gone wrong that go well beyond the simple "legs have gone" or "fallen off a cliff" tropes we happily bandy about when trying to grasp this year's disaster...