Monthly Archives: March 2022

The Cowardly Tyler Roberts Bashers Simply Cannot Claim to be Genuine Leeds Fans – by Rob Atkinson

Tyler Roberts – frequent target of fakes, bullies and cowards

Let’s start by stating the obvious, an undeniable fact that makes everything else I shall say utterly undeniable. Football support is about getting behind your club, your team and the players who wear the shirt. It’s about encouragement, not destructive abuse. It’s about stoking the confidence of those young men who wear our badge with pride and passion – it’s not about demoralising them to the point where their confidence is shattered, and they would rather wear s different badge. Support is backing, not bullying. It’s about love, not hate. It’s important to understand and accept this.

Clearly, in order to maintain their cover, the fakes themselves can’t be seen to accept it. So they carry on tediously launching into their weekly attack on Tyler Roberts, a young man whose talent far exceeds anything the amateur critics could dream of possessing – and who, incidentally, cannot hit back. So he has to just take the moronic abuse, and deal with the inevitable effect on his confidence. But he should be aware – these abusers and bullies are NOT true Leeds fans, no matter how they might rant on about having followed the club for x years. They’re fake fans, they infest social media not to support the club, but to bully and harangue their target. That much is undeniable fact, however much those who love being bullies might try to argue the point. They’re on very shaky ground; they are bang to rights as confirmed fake Leeds United “supporters”.

The very fact that the fakes get so upset about being labelled fakes is instructive in itself. They will cling to their fake support of Leeds come what may, in the face of compelling evidence that they have no feeling for the club. I happened across one the other day who referred to Marcelo Bielsa as “a fat Argie loser”. That’d get him a black eye if repeated in the hearing of sections of the Elland Road crowd, but of course he’s never to be found anywhere near LS11. And another informed me that Tyler Roberts is “the worst player ever to pull on the Leeds shirt”. The ridiculousness of that simply defies description. But that’s how fake fans, being a bit tragic, simple and over-eager, tend to give themselves away.

Some of these freaks defend themselves with “This is my opinion, am I not entitled to my opinion?“. Of course you are, stupid and offensive though it might be. That’s the nature of freedom, but freedom cuts both ways. Having heard a fake spout arrant nonsense in his or her eagerness to attack Leeds United by bullying one or more young men who have no right of reply, I am equally entitled to express my opinion, which is that such conduct identifies the prat concerned as a fake fan and no kind of Leeds supporter.

It all comes down to that. If you identify as a Leeds United supporter, then support Leeds United, the club and those who wear the colours on the pitch. Failure to do that will lead to you being identified as a fake fan, however much that might make you squeal in piteous protest. You can’t be a genuine supporter without supporting, simples. Just accept that – or head off to some other club with which, just maybe, you’ll have more affinity.

Marching On Together

As Leeds Fans Mourn Bielsa, The S*n Brands Revie’s Boys “Team of Brawlers” – by Rob Atkinson

Super Leeds.

The other day, still reeling from the loss of my latest and probably last Leeds United hero, Marcelo Bielsa, I was indulging in some gastronomic therapy in a cafe in Horbury, as I waited for Mrs. Rob to have her hair appropriately marcelled at the local salon. As I tucked into my sausage butties, I noticed a copy of Rupert Murdoch’s withered and flaccid organ on the next table, saw that it had a story about new United manager Jesse Marsch, and thought I’d have a quick and free read – as, obviously, nobody actually buys this degraded gutter rag.

I really should have known better, shouldn’t I. The piece was written (scrawled in crayon) by a hack with the unlikely name of Oscar Paul, clearly a graduate of the scumbag school of “journalism”. Swiftly bored with the task of covering the Marsch story, and aware that United’s army of fans were already hurting over the traumatic loss of Marcelo Bielsa, ‘Orrible Oscar was clearly looking for a chance to smear a Leeds legend, preferably one who had passed away and couldn’t hit back. That’s the way of things at the Super Soaraway S*n after all – find and exploit a hapless victim for the pursuit of its own disgusting agenda. Murdoch’s base bogroll has form for this going way back, as those who remember its disgraceful lies in the wake of Hillsborough will be all too well aware.

In the article I was idly perusing, the calumny was of a lesser order than the Hillsborough lies, but nonetheless gratuitously offensive and untimely for that. Stretching for a legend’s memory to daub with his masters’ own particularly noisome brand of excrement, this moronic S*n hack decided that a random reference to Leeds icon Don Revie was just what he needed, and wielded his crayon accordingly: “such is the influence Ralph Rangnick has had on (Marsch), do not expect a team of brawlers like Don Revie’s”. There. Job done, and Oscar must have been hugging himself with glee, having brown-nosed the current boss at the Pride of Devon, while simultaneously if ungrammatically dancing on Revie’s grave. It doesn’t get any better than that for an ambitious if illiterate Murdoch scribbler, surely promotion into the front ranks would follow.

Let’s consider the team that Oscar was scribbling his rubbish about – the likes of Eddie Gray and Paul Madeley having their illustrious names blackened, despite their singular lack of any inclination to “brawl”. A team of brawlers? This is lazy and glib even by the standards of the dregs of Wapping. The Revie boys could look after themselves and they stood together, as a top team should. Super Leeds operated in a brutal era, but they were not solely or even mainly about brutality. Those lads, all of them, could play, brilliantly. On their day, and there were many of them, they were peerless, incomparable. For them now to be invoked whenever some talentless purveyor of Murdoch malice is at a loss for his next sentence is harsh and unjustified in the extreme.

Let’s not forget some of the other big beasts on the prowl in that era. Arsenal with Peter Storey. Chelsea with “Chopper” Harris. Liverpool, Tommy Smith and Emlyn Hughes. Even Devon, with Stiles and Crerand. All thugs and brawlers on their day, and none of them could hold a candle to Hunter, Bremner or Giles. But none of that found a place in Oscar’s empty head, he was far too eager to perpetuate the myth of Dirty Leeds (now an ironic badge of honour among United fans weary of the 60 year old lie).

Rant over. I’ve had my say, and we all know what the Oscars of this world are all about. And what lesson can we take from this? Well, the obvious one is “Don’t buy the S*n”. But we all already knew that, too.

Marching On Together