Tbf, there is something visually unusual about the way Oumar plays football.
Lukaku's poor touches had a logic to them, they bounced more or less in the direction you thought they would. Oumar's poor touches birth a cosmic divergence of realities where the ball exists in an infinitude of states, collapsing only under collective observation into a single possibility that somehow ends at his feet.
Frankly I'll have a physics and existential mystery that scores over the Tasmanian Devil on ice that is Sandro.