Monthly Archives: June 2014

Paul Scholes Spot On About “Past It” Rooney – by Rob Atkinson

Rooney - ordinary

Rooney – ordinary

I never liked Paul Scholes. As I’m a Leeds United fan, that’s hardly surprising – he was virtually ever-present in the Man U sides that took full advantage of favourable economic, administrative and refereeing conditions to dominate for the worst part of two decades. For a devotee of the real United – the Damned United and Last Champions of popular infamy, hated by prats everywhere, my dislike of Scholes was part of my DNA. Fine player though he was, I always felt some hyperbole was at play. Best midfielder of his generation? I think not. The indulgently fond media attitude to his “inability to tackle” made me want to hurl, too. Let’s face it, he was filthy, a thug. In any other team, he’d have been condemned as a Joey Barton with added skill.

However, all that said, Scholes has partially redeemed himself in this Leeds fan’s eyes by daring to think the unthinkable about “National Icon” Wayne Rooney. The Ginger Minger has come right out and, belying his normal quiet man image, he’s done a proper hatchet job on his former team mate. Past his best, Scholes stated. Three words which neatly sum up today’s Rooney who – let’s be brutally honest here – has not done it for England for a long, long time now. What Scholes said was viewed as heresy in many quarters, the sycophantic chattering classes who still ridiculously claim that the former lifelong Evertonian is England’s best player.

Last night, in defeat against Italy, that accolade belonged unquestionably to young Raheem Sterling of Liverpool, chosen from the start ahead of the unlucky Adam Lallana. Sterling looked like trouble for Italy every time he got the ball, quicksilver fast off either foot, jinking, twisting, tormenting opposition defenders. Meanwhile, the one-paced Rooney chugged his weary way through the first half, sulkily neglecting his left-sided defensive duties, leaving Leighton Baines exposed and unhappy.

Lallana really was unlucky to be left out of the side – until late on, when England were chasing the game and Sterling was tying up with cramp. The Southampton star is just what we need on this stage, someone who can receive the ball with his back to goal and go either way, baffling defenders, bringing others into play. There’s a touch of Dalglish there.

Ross Barkley, too, is acquitting himself well for a Leeds Warnock-era reject. The man who was only good enough for our reserves at Elland Road looks at home in an international shirt, powerful, incisive and deadly creative. Again, he was unused until it was just about too late, with Italy set on keeping what they’d got, retaining the ball, striking on the break. Both Barkley and Lallana would have been far better options than Rooney, who – one deadly left-wing cross apart – failed to influence the game. In the second half he screwed one shot horribly wide after a rare, powerful run; he missed an extremely presentable chance to equalise from Baines’ astute through ball – and he took a corner that would have had them laughing on Hackney Marshes.

Now England just have to beat Uruguay on Thursday, in a game the South Americans also need to win after their unexpected beating by Costa Rica. Suarez will be looking to bite the hand that feeds him and – whatever he and his compatriots might say publicly – they will be hoping that this over-the-hill and ineffective Rooney keeps his starting place.

England manager Roy Hodgson is truly on the horns of a dilemma. Scholes has put the alternative pro’s view of Rooney’s waning powers, something that many fans out here can see all too clearly. But while the establishment view remains that Wazza is our present-day Gazza, then little will change – unless the Boss has an unlikely attack of courage and faith in his own judgement. It seems unlikely. Immediately post-match, Hodgson stood there and chanted the mantra; Wayne had a good game. Well, Roy, we could all see how ordinary he was – but it looks as though he’s not run out of last chances yet.

It’s enough to give a Leeds fan a nosebleed to say this but – in the name of God, listen to Scholesy. At the very least, bench Rooney so that you might have the option of introducing him, angry, resentful and looking to wreak havoc, as an impact sub. That, surely, is his best deployment these days. But the complacent, untouchable, sure-fire starter Rooney, the ineffective fixture in the line-up that we saw so anonymous against Italy, is no good to this England team. The trouble is, you won’t get any of the inner circle, or the lapdog media, saying so.

Regrettably – amazingly – there’s only Scholesy out there talking sense. And as a long-time team mate of Wazza, he should know. Somebody high up needs to start listening – it’ll soon be too late.

Karma for the Kaiser as FIFA Ban Beckenbauer (39 Years Too Late) – by Rob Atkinson

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Der Kaiser – justice delayed is justice denied

The news that FIFA has imposed a temporary ban from all football activities on “der KaiserFranz Beckenbauer will come as pretty cold comfort to Leeds United fans of a certain age.  They will remember all too well the massive effect that Beckenbauer, now 69 years old, had on the 1975 European Cup Final at the Parc des Princes, Paris.  Beckenbauer, then as now, was a massively-influential figure in the game, having captained West Germany to World Cup success only the summer before.  He certainly seemed to have an intimidating effect on French referee Michel Kitabdjian, who failed to give two seemingly clear-cut penalties to Leeds in the first half, and then quailed before the furious protests of der Kaiser – and, after a short delay, his Bayern Munich team-mates – having initially seemed to allow a Peter Lorimer volley in the 67th minute.

The rest, sadly for United – who had completely outplayed the defending European Champions up to that point – was history.  Leeds, demoralised and feeling cheated of an advantage which would have been well-merited, subsided to two goals from Roth and Muller, putting an end to their dreams of being top dogs in Europe.  It was difficult to overlook the undue influence that Beckenbauer had wielded over the course of the match, and the Leeds fans who remember the occasion still feel that the German’s standing in the game made it far too easy for him to alter the course of events in Bayern’s favour.

If the English club concerned had played in red, the protests from home might have been more vehement.  As it was, the focus was more on the subsequent actions of disgruntled Leeds fans than on any perceived injustice.  Beckenbauer had got away with two penalty claims, and he’d seemingly managed to sway an incompetent – at best – ref.  It’s little wonder that the very mention of his name gives Leeds United supporters the conniptions to this day.

The fact that Beckenbauer is now in some bother with World Football’s governing body might give rise to a few quiet nods of satisfaction in LS11 and considerably further afield – although of course those old wounds will remain raw until the last Leeds fan to remember that night is long past caring.  The current issue is nothing to do with the 1975 Final – it’s a different matter and it’s thirty-nine years too late anyway.  It’s just that, when someone seems to have got away with such a blatant buggering-up of justice for so long, it’s nice to see them called to account for anything at all. You’re almost reminded of Al Capone’s notorious career, bloodstained and terror-strewn – when he finally went down it was for the white-collar crime of tax evasion.  Hardly reflective of his undoubted crimes, but still.  Justice – of a sort.

So we Leeds fans will hope that Beckenbauer’s current problems don’t go away any time soon.  The man himself doesn’t seem unduly concerned though – and his continuing influence will more than likely see him walk out from under yet again.  He wasn’t the first footballer to get away with on-field dodginess, and he won’t be the last – but the injury he helped inflict on Leeds that night bit deep and it took us a long, long time to recover – while Bayern continued to flourish.

Justice?  It’s a gag, we all know that.  But for a while at least, we might hope and dream that it’s finally caught up with der Kaiser.

Postcard From a Leeds Fan to Our Boys in Brazil – by Rob Atkinson

England's vital Leeds United connection

England’s vital Leeds United connection

Well – this is it, chaps. Our World Cup starts today and literally millions of us Back Home will be glued to TV sets tonight as you take the field (mostly sand and earth painted a tasteful shade of grassy green) against those troublesome Eye-ties. Much is expected of you, as ever. And, as ever, some of you will probably fail to deliver. Not to worry. It’s only a game, after all.

As those of you with a spark of intelligence may have surmised, the last two sentences of that first paragraph are utter bollocks. Of course it matters. And “only” a game?? Get out of here. It’s the biggest game on the planet tonight. Billions of eyes will be on you, courtesy of HD cameras poking at you from every conceivable angle. Every facial expression will be noted, amateur body-language experts by the barrowload will be analysing every twitch and every kick. Scary, eh?

But don’t worry too much. Try to relax and enjoy it, go out there and express yourselves. There’s pressure, of course there is. But you’re a well-remunerated group of young men in the peak of physical fitness, enjoying the privilege of wearing your country’s badge over the heart; something most of us out here would give their eye-teeth for. So think of all those people, the ones who wish they were in your boots tonight. And after all, it’s not exactly like huddling in a bivouac in Afghanistan, is it?

All you have to do is what each of you is extremely well equipped to do – apply an immense talent with a 100% level of graft and commitment. Doubtless Woy has already hammered this message home. If not, he should have done. Nobody in an England shirt tonight should take for granted the right to play. It has to be earned.

I can only speak for us Leeds fans, but we certainly do love and warmly applaud a trier. Then again, we’re not as spoiled as some fans, enjoying as they do a galaxy of lavishly-gifted stars in their clubs’ colours, used to witnessing technically excellent football. At Leeds, we take to our hearts the lad who’ll run his guts to water, who’ll “get stuck in”. Some level of talent is necessary, of course – but you have to be born with that and it has to be honed by good coaching. But the graft, the application, the determination to work hard from start to finish – they’re choices. The players who choose to put the graft in are loved at Leeds, and the same should be true of any England fan – though, as I said, some of them are spoiled.

You lads in the England shirts tonight – you should have all of the qualities I’ve mentioned, and more – just to get where you are today as you prepare for such a massive game with the world watching you. Talent and ability are there in abundance, as they are for your opponents. The willingness to graft and fight for your country must also be in the DNA of every man who walks out there tonight with the Three Lions on his chest. The sense of pride you must have should be immense, something you can feel burning inside you. Talent, graft and pride. That’s the magic mix.

At Leeds, we count ourselves lucky if we have a few players who can show two out of these three qualities. An England international must have the lot, and it must show, it should seep from every pore. In other years, in other tournaments, that’s not always been apparent in every England player. Are you listening, Mr. Rooney? You’re under the microscope tonight, lad.

Just wear the shirt with pride, work your balls flat, be aware of the privilege and the responsibility of being an England man – and show no fear, have no regrets when the final whistle blows. Make that choice to give your all, to keep giving, as long as you’re on the field of conflict with your nation’s hopes and expectations on your shoulders.

England – and her finest fans here in Leeds – expects that every man this day will do his duty. More we cannot ask. Enjoy it, and win.

Fallen Canaries Still Chirping as Rumours Surround Leeds’ McCormack – by Rob Atkinson

Over the past few years, Leeds fans have had to grin and bear it as little Norwich – an unfashionable club from the back of beyond – have used the fact of their temporarily higher league status to pluck such gems as Snodgrass, Howson, Becchio and, erm, Bradley Johnson from the Elland Road payroll.  In truth, only the first two of those four departures were all that painful – the odd twinge caused by Luciano’s departure has been relieved by his zero contribution to Naaaarritch since he joined them – but that hasn’t stopped those loveable Ciddy fans from gloating and grinning and taking the mick.  Every time another transfer “coup” has been completed, there they’ve been, savouring the novelty of lording it over Mighty Leeds, crowing about us being their “feeder club” (no marks for originality there, lads) and generally cavorting all over the internet like the small-time wurzels they are.

Now, these cheeky, chirpy, safely-anonymous internet trolls are at it again, all agog with excitement that their little irritant of a football club are tipped by the gutter press to make yet another raid on a club that has looked down on them for the bulk of their undistinguished history.  It’s the classic small man syndrome; you suffer for years at the hands of bigger boys like Leeds, Ipswich – even Colchester and so on – and when the chance crops up to puff your chest out and do a little crowing after all those decades of feeble cheeps, well, you fill your boots (as it’s only too easy for those six-toed feet to do).

And where, after all, is the harm you might ask?  If this internet bravado helps the currently happy (despite demotion) Ciddy fans forget their inglorious past, then good luck to them, right?  After all, prior to their recent double promotion success, their club was mainly famous for the tired and emotional display of Delia Smith when she unwisely seized the match-day mike after lavishly sampling the vino cabinet, and treated the stunned home crowd to a slurred and cringeworthy motivational speech:  “Wheeeere aaaare yoooouu?  Let’s be ‘aaaavviiiin’ yooooouuu!!!”   It was entertaining for everyone outside Carrow Road, but let’s face it – it’s hardly a siren call to tempt a Scotland star who already has a first team berth in a far bigger club – or so you’d have thought.

However, money talks and – as one easily-pleased Canary reminded me just today (via a tweet, appropriately) – Norwich have recently copped for around £70m simply for achieving relegation.  Against that, we have Mr McCormack’s recent assertion that winning promotion as captain of Leeds United would mean a lot more than playing for “just any Premier League club”.  We must presume, then, that the attraction is that much greater again – when the option in front of him is just any ex-Premier League club.  Norwich is the arse end of nowhere, after all – you’d have thought that last season’s Championship top-scorer could do a hell of a lot better.  But, it’ll likely come down to just how many zeroes there are on the end of that bottom line.  Rossco is tied to a contract at Leeds, and there seems to be little suggestion that the club are minded to improve it.

Yesterday, the talk was that a firm bid of £5 million had been made by a Championship club – later tentatively identified as Fulham, another of the parachute payment brigade, lavishly rewarded for last season’s calamitous failure.

To be quite frank, I could cope if he went there. It’s not ideal – and I’m not saying a few more millions than that measly five would sugar the pill rather better – but at least Fulham’s not bleedin’ Norwich and those cocky bloody internet Canaries. I swear if I ever caught one of those I’d pretend I thought it was a lemon and squeeze it into my drink.

Roll on the end of the transfer window. Rumour has it that what’s left of our squad might start playing a few games of football then…

New Era of Success for West Ham Could See End of Leeds Obsession – by Rob Atkinson

New Plans for Allardyce and West Ham

New Plans for Allardyce and West Ham

After a long history of flattering to deceive, West Ham United, doyens of London’s East End as the locally-famous ‘Appy ‘Ammers, are at last about to embark on a period of real achievement – by the simple expedient of switching their priorities away from the stony ground of league football, in which any seeds of success have stubbornly failed to flourish in the 119 year history of the club.  It’s a bold move – but the feeling is that something has to be done, as football has never been a happy environment for the Hammers or for their long-suffering fans, many of whom would rather talk and write about true giants of the game, such as Leeds United – rather than waste any time on the Boleyn Boys.

In that long history, there has been the odd Cup success, including – as many Hammers fans would have you believe – the World Cup in 1966.  But league success – that true indicator of a big and successful club – has eluded the East London hopefuls.  Their best top-flight finish was third, 29 years ago.  A symbol of the club has been the bubble, famously linked to West Ham by their “Forever Blowing Bubbles” theme song.  Like the bubble, they can be pretty, and they can promise to fly high – but again, as with the delicate and fragile ephemeral phenomenon that is that glistening envelope of water, they tend to flourish only briefly before bursting abruptly and disappearing from view.

Now, the club’s owners, highly respectable porn barons Sullivan and Gold, have had enough of all that bubble stuff, and they intend to seek success where it might more feasibly be achieved.  A source close to the two dirty old men was quoted as saying, “The guys see us as having more potential in the field of light entertainment, rather than plodding around a football field with a load of rough boys, getting kicked and invariably losing.  So the plan is to switch targets for this coming season; we’ll be entering a team into Strictly Come Dancing, and we might possibly stick a couple of likely solo acts into BGT or maybe even the X-Factor.  But all of that is just the beginning.  If this goes as well as we think it might, we’ll be pulling out all the stops and giving it the full 150% for The Big One.  Yes, folks – watch out.  The Hammers are going all out to win Eurovision in 2015!  We just have to do something – win something – to get our fans talking about us – instead of bloody Leeds United all the time.  It’s humiliating…”

A source at the FA was cautious when asked for a reaction to this.  “It’s quite unprecedented for a club to pull out of league competition and concentrate on light entertainment, dancing, crooning, acrobatics, prestidigitation – that sort of thing.  We did have that time when Man U pulled out of the FA Cup to go poncing about on a beach in South America, but …”  Our man scratched his head, bemused like.  “We’ll have to see what the full committee make of it.  I suppose if any club were to make this sort of switch, it’s more likely to be West Ham than anybody else.”

The mood at Upton Park, though, is one of grim determination.  “By the time we switch to the Olympic Stadium, we want some silverware on the sideboard,” said our source. “Dancing, magic, tricks with dogs, anything. Singing, certainly.  Look at the bearded lass who won Eurovision just the other week.  Dead spit of Billy Bonds, she were – weren’t he?”  When asked whether the Hammers would still be playing football at their new venue, our man was cagey.  “There’s more to life than bleedin’ football, you know! There’s lots we could do there to make a crowd like ours happy.  Dancing on ice, all sorts.  Just watch us go, once we start winning stuff. You wait and see, mate, you just wait and see – starting with ‘Strictly‘.”

In related news, the club are expected to announce that the iconic “Forever Blowing Bubbles” song is to be dropped, with immediate effect, due – it is said – to those connotations of fragility and ultimate disappointment. Instead, and to signal an era of success unknown in the ‘Ammers’ ‘Istory, the club tune will be “Stranger in Paradise” from the start of the 2014/15 “Strictly Come Dancing” season.  It is anticipated that new lyrics will be sung by the Upton Park crowd, beginning “Hail Fat Sam, He’s a Walrus Called Allardyce”.

The Hammers’ two surviving World Cup winners, Martin Peters and Sir Geoff Hurst, have issued a joint statement, reading simply: “It’s Bobby Moore that we feel for.  If he was alive today, he’d be turning in his grave.”

Alf Garnett is 95 (and supports Spurs).

Norwich in for McCormack … Yeah, Yeah, Put a New Record On – by Rob Atkinson

Ross McCormack

Ross McCormack

They’re not the brightest bunch down at the Daily Fail – they seem to lack any real intelligence or imagination.  This is odd for a representative of the gutter end of the Fourth Estate which depends so much on fabrication and ludicrous hogwash for the majority of its output.  Perhaps the strain of supporting Mr Camoron’s ridiculous and unelected regime has addled those tiny brains.  Whatever the cause of this rag’s latest foray into Fantasy Island territory, it’s all getting more than a little boring now.

What the Fail‘s dim but persistent hacks have cottoned on to is the fact that the best way to rile Leeds United fans is to run yet another story linking our current best player (no challengers to Mr McCormack for this title at the moment) with Norwich City – based purely on that backwoods Norfolk outfit’s notable record of signing some of the Whites’ meagre pool of talent over the past few seasons.

The difference at the moment of course is that Norwich are now a Championship club again, having suffered an hilarious relegation despite securing the services of 75% of the Leeds United League One midfield. When those regular raids on the Elland Road playing staff were going on, the Canaries were, albeit temporarily, Premier League birds.  It’s a distinction far too subtle for the booze-raddled mind of your average FAILOnline fantasist, but that Premier League status did make a difference for as long as it was a fact. It’s a difference that no longer applies, though – so what (we might ask) is the rationale behind the current story linking our Ross to the ex-Premier League (they are no more, they have ceased to be) Canaries?  I’ll tell you what. Nothing. Nada. Zip, zilch and, as Mr Cellino would no doubts say, niente.  It is all, to use a technical term descriptive of the journalistic standards at the Fail, bollocks.

It’s hardly unlikely that Mr McCormack will move on to pastures new this summer.  He will have no shortage of clubs queuing up to recruit him, and on much better terms than his present agreement.  But Leeds United have him tied to a contract, and Ross himself has spoken of the attraction of staying at Elland Road and winning promotion as captain.  Much better, he said, than playing in the Premier League with “just any old club”.  So how much better still are his current circumstances than the scenario of playing for just another Championship Club, against Leeds United (to whom he has consistently pledged his allegiance) – and uprooting his family into the bargain.  It just doesn’t add up.  Then again, neither does your average Fail hack’s expenses account.

The “writers” for the likes of the Sun, the Mail, the Mirror, etc etc, are never going to be good journalists, telling the truth and uncovering legitimate stories.  That’s so far beyond the bounds of probability as to be laughable. But they could at least vary the standard fare a little, in the hope of eventually becoming slightly less pisspoor journalists.  Why not link McCormack at least to a Premier League club?  It’d still be made-up crap, most likely – but at least it wouldn’t be quite such transparently obvious crap.  The current habit of using Norwich all the time, just because of the well-known irritant factor for those of a Leeds persuasion, is lazy; it’s unimaginative; it’s boring.  It doesn’t help the clubs concerned, or the fans of those clubs – and neither does it reflect well on proper journalists working for serious newspapers, who tend to get tarred with the same brush by an undiscriminating public as the morons who rattle off the same old crap from their rightful place at the sewer end of Fleet Street.

So please – do us all a favour.  Put a new record on, or just shut up altogether. Or stick to writing astrology columns. You wouldn’t be missed in the real world of sport – and at least doing horoscopes you’d have a bit more chance of being right once in a blue moon. 

Leeds’ Master Blaster Tony Yeboah – Which Scorcher Was His Best?

Tony "Master Blaster" Yeboah

Tony “Master Blaster” Yeboah

Mention the name Tony Yeboah to any Leeds fan – in fact to any football fan with a memory long enough to stretch way back to the mid-nineties, and you can bet that a faraway look will come into their eyes, and they’ll say “Ah, yes – that incredible goal against Liverpool.  Goal of the season, that.”  It’d be difficult to find anyone to argue the point.  But as a fanatical Leeds United fan who has a very special place in his Hero File for Anthony Yeboah, I’m going to try.

The Liverpool goal certainly was a brilliant technical piece of finishing; volleys from outside the box against a class goalkeeper invariably have to be.  At Leeds over the years, we’ve been lucky enough to see a fair few of these bazookas, and Yeboah’s late effort against the Anfield men stands comparison with any of them.  The fact of the goal being at the Kop End of Elland Road was of some assistance to the spectacle, but any way you look at it, this was a hell of a strike.  It wasn’t the first goal of this type in front of the Leeds Kop and against the Reds though.  A few years before, Gary MacAllister, a future Anfield hero, scored another fizzer, the ball being played to him in mid air from the left; he let it go across his body before wrapping his right foot round it to thunderous effect, the ball scorching into the net before the ‘keeper (the same David James beaten by Yeboah) could even move.

Yeboah’s strike though was probably marginally better.  It came from a headed knock-down forcing the Ghanaian to adjust his body shape slightly as the ball descended towards him, and he caught it so sweetly and with such ferocity that James was probably slightly lucky he didn’t get a hand to it; broken wrists have been known in similar situations.  It was a violent, arcing shot, the ball dipping slightly in its trajectory and just clipping the underside of the crossbar before bouncing down to rest, relieved, in the back of the net.  David James can perhaps count himself unlucky to have been beaten by two of the finest volleys I’ve ever seen at Elland Road, then again he might reflect they’d probably have beaten any two keepers on Earth.

The thing is though – tie me up and burn me for a heretic, but I don’t think Yeboah’s howitzer against Liverpool that balmy August night was his best goal for Leeds.  In my humble opinion, that came a few weeks later at Selhurst Park, temporary home of Wimbledon FC, when the phenomenal Yerbugger struck an even more vicious blow.  Reliable witnesses, standing close by as the man from Ghana hit his shot, swore blind that they actually heard the ball squeal in pain.   I am supported in citing this strike as Tony’s best by Guardian writer Dominic Fifield who, writing in 2011, saw it as his favourite Premier League goal.  He described it thus:

“Watching the ball cannon up from a series of scrappy headers and attempted clearances clearly tested the Ghanaian’s patience. Yeboah snapped on to the loose ball, controlled it on his chest then instep, exploded away from an opponent and lashed a glorious half-volley in off the underside of the bar from distance. It is the ferocity which is most impressive; a blistering effort.”

Sadly, I only saw this goal on television, though I’d planned to attend the match at Selhurst as I was due to be in London that weekend.  Four days previously though, I’d seen a pallid performance against Notts County in a 0-0 League Cup draw – and I just thought, well sod it, I’m not wasting my London time and money watching that sort of crap.  So I was exploring the delights of Selfridges when Yeboah broke Sky TV’s velocity-measuring equipment, and serve me right for a lapse of faith.  At least my wife found it funny, but I was understandably not amused.  Leeds won 4-2 as well, with Yeboah completing a hat-trick, and Carlton Palmer scoring a goal that might well have been Goal of the Month any other day, but which paled into insignificance next to the awesome might of Yeboah.

There are several YouTube videos devoted to paying tribute to Tony’s goals in his too-brief stay at Elland Road, and I’d heartily recommend a search, they’re well worth watching over and over.  I’d be interested to know what others think – I suspect that most will feel his effort against Liverpool was the best; it was a late winner after all, and scored in front of a packed Kop.  I should think this really, because I was actually there, stood right behind the line of the shot as it ripped past the startled James.  But I just can’t help harking back to what I think was an even greater goal, albeit in humbler surroundings.  How I wish that I’d been there for that one.  Tony Yeboah: thanks for the memories – and a belated Happy 48th Birthday from last Friday.

Getting Promoted the Leeds United Way – by Rob Atkinson

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Leeds United have achieved promotion to the top League of English football (Football League Division One of blessed memory) on two occasions within my lifetime – 1963/64 and 1989/90.  Both promotions followed significant lower status periods – we don’t really do “bounce-back” promotions – and here we are again, a decade away from the game’s shop window, and this time we actually plumbed the depths of the third tier for the first time in our illustrious history. So – talking about history – do those last two promotion successes have anything to teach us today?  The answer seems to be: yes, quite a bit.  But sadly, there’s not necessarily all that much encouragement to be derived from the lessons of yesteryear.

The fact appears to be that the last two Leeds United sides to have achieved promotion to the top flight both did it with quality to spare.  Both finished as Division Two Champions, and both squads included a number of players who would go on to help add to the Club’s Honours Board.  In 1990, the team that pipped Sheffield United for the Second Division title included as mainstays Gordon Strachan, Gary Speed, Lee Chapman, Chris Fairclough, Mel Sterland and David Batty.  That’s over half a team, and all of those players figured heavily in the squad that won the last Football League Championship title in 1992.  Also appearing in that “Last Real Champions” line-up were four more survivors of the 1990 promotion side: Carl Shutt, Imre Varadi, John McClelland and Mike Whitlow.  So TEN members of the promotion squad were good enough to figure in the season that brought the ultimate League honour back to Elland Road.  All but Batty and Speed were incoming transfers, some costing what was significant money for the late eighties.

In 1964, the picture was similar, though with more of a bias towards home-grown talent – unsurprisingly given the quality of the youngsters coming through from an outstanding youth policy. The names trip off the tongue:  Gary Sprake, Paul Reaney, Billy Bremner, Jack Charlton, Norman Hunter, Paul Madeley, Terry Cooper and Peter Lorimer.  The ultimate success took longer to achieve for Revie’s boys, but all eight of these players, plus the genius of Johnny Giles – purchased for a song from Man U in a transfer Revie described as “robbery with violence” – were major contributors to the side which proved itself the best-ever in 1969. The later transfers in of Mick Jones and Allan Clarke, with the emergence of Eddie Gray from that legendary youth setup, simply applied the final coat of gloss to what was a very fine side indeed. The makings of Champions were there in the 1964 promotion team, just as they were for that of 1990.

So what does all this tell us about the here and now?  Nothing very happy, to be sure.  The squad we have today might – with a few judiciously-selected additions – have some sort of chance of achieving promotion, though you’d have to say the lottery of the play-offs would be the likeliest route.  And as a club, we’re famously poor at play-offs.  But if we DID scramble promotion – what sort of foundation would there be for becoming a successful Premier League side? Hardly any, in truth.  Look through the playing staff we have, and name players who might figure in a Premier League winning side in the next few years.  Sam Byram, maybe – and probably, almost certainly – NOT in a Leeds United shirt. So we’re in danger of becoming the Leeds United side least well-equipped in living memory to go up, and stay up to do well. Much more likely though is that – with the element of quality currently so sadly lacking – we’d just bob around in mid-table in the Championship, and listen to a load of excuses every week or so.

History shows that, on both the occasions we’ve won promotion in my lifetime, there has been relatively major investment in the team to make that possible.  It was more the case in 1990 than in ’64, but the whole game was much more about money by the 90’s – and of course vastly more so today.  But even in 1964, players had been added to the squad to see us over that promotion-winning line – Alan Peacock was an England-capped forward, bought for decent money from Middlesbrough.  Bobby Collins commanded a fee even as a “veteran” when he moved to Leeds from Everton.  In the 1990 side, Strachan, Fairclough, Chapman and Sterland all cost well into the six figures, as did John Hendrie and Vinnie Jones. This was proper investment, speculating to accumulate.

There is as yet no real indication of the path that might be trodden by the Leeds of today, under the guidance of new owner Massimo Cellino.  We are given to understand that he has inherited an almighty mess from a list of previous owners, who can only be distinguished one from the other by the slightly varying degrees of their wretched crookedness.  Some will say, serves you right Massimo for foolishly dispensing with the need for due diligence – others will simply be glad that the Italian’s on board – despite the vicious attempts by the senile and dithering old fools of the Football League to block him – and looking to sort things out.

Cellino appears determined to be faithful to his own methods and philosophy – and it’s fairly clear that we won’t find out very much about on-field recruitment until he’s laid the foundations for a properly-run club.  The Head Coach appointment seems likely to be the next significant step, and from that will flow the rest of the preparations for next season.  By now, Cellino must be aware of the fans’ voracious appetite for success – a term to be defined by the Leeds United history of the past fifty years, as opposed to the yardstick of just any old club.

The fans’ expectations are extravagant but understandable, having their roots in a proud and glorious tradition, from eras past when this club did things properly.  Where expectations such as these are dashed, sooner or later there will be rebellion – even in what might still be, relatively speaking, a honeymoon period for the new owner. Whether such rebellion would come in the form of apathy over match-day attendance, or some more incendiary form whereby dissatisfaction might be expressed by marches and sit-ins, or by the owner being barricaded inside Elland Road (Massimo has had some experience of this already) – this would depend upon the depth of supporter anger or unhappiness.

Cellino’s staff would be well-advised to do plenty of rooting about in Leeds United Football Club’s history, both to see how things were managed when the people in charge knew what they were doing, and also to advise themselves of what happens with the support – and indeed the staff and management – when they feel they’re having the urine taken out of them.  That feeling has been abroad too often for comfort in the past few years, and what is needed right now is a campaign of relative harmony.  From that point of view as much as any other, there may well be advantages in the appointment of a head coach with an intimate working knowledge of the club and its traditions and character – and of the fan-base.  This is not just any club – and we need someone at a high level in the organisation, who is acutely aware of that fact.

Former skipper and manager Gary MacAllister’s name is evidently on Cellino’s very short short-list – and if anyone can pick up the reins effectively at Elland Road right now, then maybe Macca can. He should not, in my view, be judged too harshly in the light of his previous stint in charge – he was not working under the most favourable circumstances, or indeed the most favourable owner. Even so, some of his signings turned out to be legends of their time; his eye for a player, certainly an attacking player, seems reliable – as witness Becchio and Snodgrass.

But it is Gary MacAllister’s Leeds United DNA that we probably need as much as anything else right now, when one major priority should be the re-establishment of a definite Leeds United identity, now that Bates has gone, and now that GFH have been reduced to the role of mere parasites.  The club needs to hold its collective head up high, and march on saying We Are Leeds.  That was the spirit in which those previous two promotions were earned, and it is that spirit which needs to be rekindled over this summer, so that we come out fighting – and Keep Fighting – for the season ahead.

I would say – get MacAllister in, let him surround himself with people he can work with (including, please God, a defensive coach and someone with a Plan B) – and let him put his stamp back on the club.  To me, this would also add to Cellino’s credibility. Anybody who has read McAllister’s book, or who has seen how he has conducted himself throughout his career, will know that here is a real football man.  This would not be a Massimo’s yes-man type of appointment.  That would be a very important message to send out, bearing in mind the lessons of Cardiff City under Vincent Tan. One thing we could do with is the reassurance that Cellino is not cut from that cloth.

Next week might just be the start of a positive summer for Leeds – if the right appointment is made and some sort of recruitment programme can then commence.  Let’s sincerely hope so – it’s been too long since we had any really good news at Elland Road.  A feel-good factor would be a long-forgotten but welcome visitor to the club – and who knows?  If we can achieve that, then surely anything is possible.  A promotion charge next season?  England winning the World Cup with a 30 yard volley by Leeds lad Jamie Milner?  Why not?

If we’re going to dare to dream – then let’s make it a good one.  MOT – We Are Leeds.

That unquenchable Leeds United spirit

That unquenchable Leeds United spirit

LLUUE’s Leeds United “Man of the Season” 2013/14 – by Rob Atkinson

Who's the mystery winner of LLUUE's "Man of the Year"??

Who’s the mystery winner of LLUUE’s “Man of the Season” for 2013/14??

In a season with few Leeds United candidates – quite probably only one – for “Man of the Season“, this blog has had to cast its net further afield to find the one outstanding person who has brought us the most joy and pleasure in the campaign just gone.

On the face of it, the claims from within Leeds United, of our inspirational captain and lethal striker Ross McCormack, are next door to irresistible. Rarely has one man dominated to the extent that Ross has in this fractious, disrupted campaign. Any other possible contenders, such as the admirable Matt Smith who enjoyed such a promising début season, would be a country mile, at best, behind our 29 goal Scottish international. McCormack’s status as our “Man of the Season” would be undeniable – if we were merely looking for consolation in the midst of our suffering. But we’re not. We’re looking for actual joy and pleasure unconfined – and that’s really not to be found inside the bounds of Elland Road, not for a good few years now. So we must perforce look elsewhere – sorry, Rossco.

As with any set of right-thinking, well-balanced and reasonable football fans, the supporters of Leeds United know what to do when their own favourites fail to stir the blood or lift the spirits. Firstly, there’s “Win or lose, we’re on the booze” to fall back on. The soothing and pain-relieving balm of alcohol has beguiled many a sad hour over successive painfully disappointing years.  But some seasons are just so unspeakably awful that even when you spend most or all of your time in a drink-generated fug, you can’t escape the cold chill of despair that lays its clammy fingers across the back of your neck, whenever you’re sober enough to contemplate the plight of Leeds United. So you shudder miserably, and look elsewhere for a bit of cheer.

Eventually – inevitably – you resort to taking positive pleasure in the pain and misery of those you despise.  And who better to delight you with their cataclysmic plummet from grace, than the former and allegedly still “Biggest Club in the Universe and all Four Dimensions of Spacetime™”?  Yes, gentlemen and ladies, I give you – for quite frankly, I don’t want them – Manchester United, the Greatest Football Club in the World (Copyright © The UK Gutter Press). Now stop that giggling over there in Barcelona and Milan – it’s not nice to kick a football club when it’s down and deluded.

This season, the “greatest team in the world” finished, erm, seventh. Outside of the European places (yes, even those poxy, Thursday night, Europa League occasions are denied them) – but are they bovvered?  Do they look bovvered?? Well – perhaps a bit.

Their trophy haul for the campaign was similarly derisory.  Suffice to say that they won exactly the same as Leeds United – oh, hang on – I forgot that pre-season friendly against Wigan, when they were awarded a vulgar silver plate as a reward for turning out for “charidee”.  But, as any Pride of Devon fan will confirm – for this season just gone, at least – the Community Shield is, in fact, a major trophy.  Funny, that.  It’s a principle that has sometimes applied to the League Cup too, in its various guises – but only when it’s the sole trophy to have made its way to the Theatre of Hollow Myths.

This season has been remarkable – almost unprecedented – for the way in which that Man U star has fallen.  Home defeats by the barrow-load, home humiliations in the domestic cups, miles off the pace in the Title race from about Christmas onwards and a trophy cabinet that has remained gloriously bare, save for one lonely, hungry spider named Alex.

It’s been car-crash football watched through agonised slits of eyes by those armchair denizens of Devon and Cornwall as they chew distractedly on a straw, and wonder what on Earrrrth ‘as ‘appened to “Yew-noited”.  So, have we any pity to spare for these tragic creatures? Have we blooming heck as like.  It’s been far too much fun, watching this tragi-comedy – if you’re a real, non-plastic football fan, that is.  It’s been just too funny and too entertaining for words. And there may yet be more fun to come next season, what with the almighty mess that’s been left behind.  Priceless, no?

And who do we have to thank for all of this joy and celebration?  Who is this man, who has brought us such rich and amusing entertainment?  Who is the saviour who at last achieved his decade-long ambition of seeing Everton finish above Man U?  What is the name of this hero who has presided over a season unparalleled in the course of Premier League history – which, as we all know, is the only history that really counts??

Faithful readers, I give you – for the inaugural Life, Leeds United, the Universe & EverythingMAN OF THE SEASON” – that fine coach, that brave and decisive manager and, above all, that determined saboteur of all things scum; I give you (Drum roll) Evertonian Special Agent ………. Daaaaaavid MOYES!!!!  (Sensation, loud applause, sustained cheering).

Well done INDEED, David.  A fine achievement and a deserved accolade. You took a club favoured by the game’s authorities, by most of the referees and other officials and, not least, by that thankless bitch Lady Luck – and you destroyed them, utterly, inside a twelvemonth. We salute you – and we wish you the best of luck as you look to re-establish yourself in football proper after this one-off year as a double-agent and “overblown reputation demolition contractor”. No praise can be too high, you have done a great service to football fans everywhere outside of Torquay, Devizes, Barnsley and Milton Keynes.

Come back this time next year, gentle reader for the second LLUUE awards blog.  Who knows, perhaps we might be able realistically to nominate an actual Leeds United person?  We’ll start brushing up on our Italian, just in case… 

Oh, and – PS.  To all of those pedantic souls who might wish to point out that Leeds United haven’t exactly covered themselves in glory this year – look again. I have sort of addressed that, I feel.  And anyway – we’re not the biggest club in the bleedin’ world, are we??

LLUUE "Man of the Year" - Our Hero, Agent David Moyes

LLUUE “Man of the Season” 2013/14 – Our Hero, Special Agent David Moyes

Newcastle Bid for Leeds Skipper: Might McCormack End Up at “Any Old Club” After All? – by Rob Atkinson

Those loveable Geordies

Those loveable Geordies

As a statement of intent and a welcome expression of loyalty, Leeds United skipper Ross McCormack’s tasty little soundbite towards the end of the season would take some beating. “I think about the feeling of being at Elland Road on the last day of the season, winning promotion and being captain,” said United’s 27 year old, 29 goal top-scorer. “That would surpass just playing in the Premier League for any old club and I don’t say that lightly.”

It was indeed a weighty statement, neither to be made nor taken lightly. McCormack was letting us know of his burning ambition to play at the highest level, whilst at the same time telling us that it would take a special club to tempt him to do this in any other but the white shirt of Leeds United. Ross is happy here, he can see himself achieving much at Elland Road – if the club’s ambition is seen to match his own. And if not, then he is well enough aware of his own value as a potent striker to be sure that he could command a move to another club in the same bracket, reputation-wise, as Leeds.

All of which on-the-record disclosure makes me feel that the rumoured interest from Newcastle might be just the start of what could develop into a bit of a clamour for Mr McCormack’s valuable services – that’s if his one-to-one with Signor Cellino has left him thinking that his future would be best spent elsewhere. If he is to leave, then this one rumoured bid could spark off an auction – with, presumably, more feasible suitors waiting in the wings.

It’s not as if McCormack will necessarily be on the radar of the “Big Four”, after all – but you’d have thought there might be interest from the likes of European make-weights Spurs and Everton, just below that élite level and pushing hard. To see our Ross go to a Newcastle or a Man U or a Southampton, though, would be somewhat perplexing. Such a transfer would put him smack in the middle of the “any old club” territory that he’d appeared conclusively to rule out. There are even rumours of interest from yet further down the food chain, with relegation fodder West Ham and Joke League Champions Glasgow Celtic reported to be sniffing around.

As far as this week’s alleged bidders Newcastle are concerned, they do have prior form as stalking horses. Their enquiry to Everton about the availability of Wayne Rooney led directly to the then-effective forward making his move to Man U – back when they were a leading club. So you may well surmise that mention of the long-trophyless Geordies, as prospective employers of the talented McCormack, might spark more serious interest among bigger, more serious clubs.

The more you look at it, then, the less likely it might appear that McCormack will end up in those oddly humbug-esque black and white stripes. And if he did go to the Wonga Stadium, you’d have to question his motivations – an area that he’s been at some pains to elucidate to those of us Leeds fans out here who have looked for ongoing reassurances of his commitment to Elland Road. Has it become a case of any Premier League port in a storm for Rossco? Or is he actually still committed to achieving success at the club to which he’s time and time again reiterated his loyalty and commitment? This blog thinks we should be informed.

Time, as ever, will eventually tell. One significant factor is the length of time left on our leading scorer’s contract. That would tend to drive the price upwards should an auction commence – and then it would rapidly become a question of where lie the best interests of Leeds United Football Club.

And whatever the priorities and motivations of Mr Ross McCormack – whatever the level of interest out there from Premier League clubs of whatever status and calibre – it is those best interests of our beloved Whites that should be the deciding factor. Not even our top goalscorer, our heart-on-the-sleeve inspiration in that No. 44 shirt, is bigger than the club – and that, my fellow vile animals, is the real bottom line.