“People will believe what they want to believe,” Varley said. “And there is a desire to be seen as though you are in the know, not to want to admit you aren’t on top of the game.”

Eventually, of course, the hoax was exposed. But by then, Varley felt his point had been proved. His phantom had traveled all the way into respected mainstream publications, even making one list of the top 50 young players in Europe (placing 30th).

“It was not meant to be malicious,” Varley said. He had demonstrated, though, that soccer was the perfect environment for fake news to thrive. Looking back now, he regards Bugduv as “the first post-truth footballer.”

Perfect Conditions

One day this month, the independent soccer website Football365, which had its launch in 1997, received more unique visits than on any other day in its history. It was early in July. The Confederations Cup had finished, and so had the European under-21 championships. The start of the Premier League season was still weeks away. The visits, most likely, came from people searching for updates on transfer rumors.

That demand is met by an inexhaustible supply. Wenger regularly complains that Arsenal is linked to hundreds of players every summer. By one estimate, Manchester United had been linked to more than 50 before the transfer window even opened, but had signed only one, the young Swedish defender Victor Lindelof, before finally adding Lukaku this week. (At least one of those early July reports, it seems, was true.)

That the vast majority of rumors never come to fruition does not seem to dull the appetite. Quite the opposite. As Varley found with Bugduv, what matters is not the cold, hard fact, but the version of truth that is most appealing. In the gap between seasons, hearing that your club could sign a player is the best substitute for actual matches.

In the rumor-thirsty world of social media and team forums, anyone who provides that fix can gain traction. Every year, a handful of social accounts from supposed agents or insiders appear, looking to benefit by offering to reveal those stories that established journalists can’t or won’t report. Some, as in the memorable case of Duncan Jenkins — described by his creator, a copywriter named Sean Cummins, as possibly the “first post-truth journalist” — are jokes that spin out of control. Others are designed to be a little more meanspirited.