Category Archives: Sport

Leeds United – the Top Five Injustices and the Refs Involved

Posted on 01/05/2013 | 2 comments
Lorimer!

Lorimer!

When I heard that Brian McDermott was “optimistic” over Rudy Austin’s red card appeal this week, I had a little smile to myself and thought, “You’ve not been at Leeds long enough to know, mate.” It could be of course that a wily McDermott was doing his best to sway the appeal panel by opining the Austin incident was a “complete accident”. Whatever the case, the appeal was turned down, as most Leeds fans would have expected. We don’t really get the breaks where the football authorities are concerned. Sour grapes? Judge for yourselves.

Prompted to cast my mind back over history, I thought I’d highlight some famous instances where Leeds have signally failed to get the rub of the green. The focus is mainly on referees, and I’ve had no compunction about naming and shaming. In reverse order of spectacular bentness, the candidates for “Injustice of the 20th Century” are:

No. 5: Wolves 2, Leeds 1 – 8th May 1972 (Ref: Bill Gow)

I’ve placed this as least serious from a refereeing point of view because – in the crucial penalty incident – Mr Gow was unsighted and badly let down by his linesman J C Collins of Macclesfield, an inexperienced official who apparently “froze”. It does seem to have been a blatant handball and a definite penalty though – in a match where Leeds would win the Title and therefore the “Double” if they could avoid defeat. Tellingly, Mr Gow got home that night to be greeted by his wife saying “It looked a penalty on the telly.” My main culprits for this game are the callous officials of the FA and Football League, who insisted a tired team should play a title decider a mere two days after a gruelling FA Cup Final against Arsenal. Leeds did not even get to celebrate their Cup triumph, heading straight off to Wolverhampton with their battered and wounded bodies and their missing heroes. It was a shoddy affair that you could not envisage these days. Respected “Guardian” writer Eric Todd described the uncaring treatment of a gallant Leeds side as “scandalous”.

No. 4: Leeds United 1, West Brom 2 – 17 April 1971 (Ref: Ray Tinkler)

No doubts about the culprit here. Ray Tinkler’s face as he walked off the Elland Road pitch after this display wore a tellingly apprehensive expression; that of a man who knew he was walking out of a storm and into a typhoon. The game turned on an offside call – or more accurately, two of them. Already one down against opponents they’d been expected to beat easily, Leeds were pressing hard. A victory was vital in the race for the Title, anything less would pass the advantage to Arsenal. Then Norman Hunter gave the ball away on halfway with most of the Leeds side committed forward. The ball bounced off Tony Brown into the Leeds half where a clearly-offside Colin Suggett is loitering as the linesman flags for the free-kick. Tony Brown continues his run when Tinkler fails to blow in response to the flag, passes the ball to Astle – also in an offside position – who scores. A season’s work, in the words of Don Revie, is undone in a few mad moments. Barry Davies, commentating for the BBC, memorably remarked “…and Leeds will go mad. And they’ve every right to go mad..” Strong stuff from a sober professional. In the wake of the crowd disturbances that ensued, Leeds were forced to play their first home games of the following season away from Elland Road, a sanction that led to points being dropped, and probably contributing to their narrow failure to win the 1972 title as well. So Mr. Tinkler may well have done us for two Championship crowns. Cheers, Ray.

No. 3: Chelsea 1, Leeds United 0 – FA Cup Semi Final at Villa Park 29 April 1967 (Ref: Ken Burns)

The classic FA Cup Semi: two fine teams, not at all fond of each other – the fashionable Kings Road fancy dans of Chelsea against Don Revie’s battle-hardened stormtroopers. Or so the Press would have it. Chelsea were ahead late on, a fine goal from Tony Hately being the difference. Leeds thought they’d drawn level when Cooper scored, but the effort was chalked off for offside, despite vociferous complaints from the Leeds players who swore blind that Cooper had come from an onside position. Then, a free kick 25 yards out. The ref took some seconds organising Chelsea’s defensive wall, and then caught the eye of John Giles – a commonly-accepted signal for the free kick to be taken. Giles rolled the ball to Lorimer, who smashed it into Bonetti’s net. Leeds were joyful, Chelsea despaired – but referee Burns ruled the goal out, ordering a retake because Chelsea’s wall was not far enough back – a technical offence against Leeds. The retaken free-kick came to nothing, and Leeds were out of the Cup in the cruellest circumstances.

No. 2: Bayern Munich 2, Leeds United 0 – European Cup Final, Parc des Princes Paris May 28 1975 (Ref: Michel Kitabdjian)

38 years on, this still sticks in the collective craw of Leeds United fans. 38 years on, we still sing “We are the Champions, Champions of Europe” in ritual protest. Two blatant penalty shouts in the first half, the guilty man on both occasions was Der Kaiser, Franz Beckenbauer. First he handled blatantly in the area, and then a “scissors” tackle on Allan Clarke – you wondered how anyone could fail to give either. Leeds were completely outplaying Bayern, drawing sympathy even from the English TV commentator who was bemoaning the lack of a more even contest. Then in the second half the ball falls perfectly for Peter Lorimer just outside the Bayern penalty area. Lorimer times his volley superbly, and it flies into the net, beating Sepp Maier all ends up. Then confusion as the goal seems to be given, until Beckenbauer urgently directs the ref to speak to his linesman. More confusion, then the goal is disallowed. Bayern score twice against a demoralised Leeds near the end, and the European Cup is snatched from the hands of Revie’s old guard; the triumph that was to crown their careers torn away in the most dubious of circumstances.

No. 1: Leeds United 0, AC Milan 1 – ECWC Final, Salonika, Greece 16 May 1973 (Ref: Christos Michas)

This is the Grand-daddy of bent matches, a game almost universally acknowledged to have been as straight as a corkscrew, allegations of bribery, the referee banned by UEFA afterwards – and still the 1973 Trophy is written into the extensive honours list of AC Milan. Justice, as they say, is a gag. Peter Lorimer on the match: “It was wholly, indisputably and wretchedly bent…” Johnny Giles was out with an injured hamstring, but he’d been working for the media and had heard that the ref was “in Milan’s pocket”. His gloomy view before the game was that it was one Leeds United wouldn’t be allowed to win. Three minutes gone, and Milan are awarded a free-kick, a decision that could charitably be described as dodgy. A weak shot takes a cruel deflection on its way into the Leeds net, and it’s 1-0 early on. From then onwards, it was a story of United pressure thwarted by thuggish challenges from the Milanese, decision after decision going against the increasingly frustrated and demoralised Leeds team, two, possibly three good penalty shouts waved away by Michas, and inevitably the game finished with Milan leading by that early goal, collecting the trophy to hoots of anger and derision from the outraged Greek crowd who cheered the defeated Leeds side as they limped round on a lap of honour “after this most dishonourable of matches.”

There has been a petition to UEFA with a view to overturning the result in this wretched blot on the history of the game, awarding the trophy and medals retrospectively to Leeds. UEFA did nothing. I’ve opened another petition – since the original effort in 2009, Christos Michas has died. It seemed appropriate to try to revive the matter. That petition can be supported here.

Leeds have frequently been the victims of poor decisions and examples of prejudice against them over the years. They are still, to the best of my knowledge, the only team to concede a goal to the background of the referee punching the air in celebration – supposedly of a good advantage decision, but really? Would it happen if the victims had been Man U?

These are the 5 most blatant examples I could find of occasions when Leeds have suffered at the hands of officialdom, referees in particular. I’m sure there are many less famous instances, and I’d be interested to hear the recollections of others. It’s a well-known saying in the game that bad decisions, like bad luck, tend to even out over time so that all teams are more or less equal in the long run. I think any Leeds fan would have a wry grin at that one.

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Evra Out-Chomps Suarez in the Bad Taste Stakes

Posted on 26/04/2013 | Leave a comment
Stupid Boy

Stupid Boy

It was predictable, I suppose, that Man U would find time in celebrating their hollow title triumph to have a pop at the enemy down the other end of the East Lancs road. It’s in their DNA to crow instead of celebrating with dignity as truly great clubs do – and so inevitably the evening couldn’t go by without some reference to the latest glitch from Liverpool’s Luis Suarez.  Liverpool are a problem for Man U.  They oozed class to utterly out-perform all the competition back when that competition was a lot broader-based than it is today.  They’ve still got more European Cups.  For a club so obsessed with size and success, so insecure in the face of genuine rivalry, it stings the Trafford-based giants that a relatively close neighbour has been so historically successful.  Man U don’t take that sort of thing kindly, and Ferguson’s poisonous hatred of Liverpool has trickled down like escaping acid through the fabric of his club, leaving the suppurating sores of bitter envy at all levels.

Even given this long-standing hatred of Liverpool, born of the envy and insecurity that riddles Old Trafford, the display on Monday evening of the not-exactly-admirable defender Evra was pushing hard at the far boundaries of decency and good taste.  A joke “severed limb” was thrown onto the pitch from the jubilant home fans – this is the kind of thing Man U fans are rather prone to, with a record of similar perversions of class and comportment many times in the past.  They tend to squeal loud and long though if anyone offers them like treatment; such is the one-way street of the Man U supporters’ moral code.

So there’s this silly toy on the pitch and – no doubt seeking to please and impress his adoring fans, Evra had to pick it up and mime having a bite out of it.  It’s not a particularly edifying image, but of course Evra and Suarez are not exactly bosom buddies.  Be that as it may, such a very unsubtle reference to the hot-headed and idiotic actions of the Uruguayan a couple of days previously at Anfield was – to say the least – unhelpful and unwelcome.  Suarez has stupidly offered himself as a target yet again for a press and public that has been eager to condemn him ever since his dispute with Evra, a situation in which the Frenchman shared a lot of any blame going.  But Suarez has been hunted ever since, any slip highlighted, most of the praise that his sparkling play deserves only grudgingly meted out.

The point of all this is, of course, that the actions of Suarez, stupid and needless though they may be, ARE invariably taken in the heat of the moment, when he is in the middle of some competitive vortex on the field.  Evra, on the other hand was relaxed and celebrating, high on the moment of triumph no doubt, but not caught up in the white heat of conflict.  And yet he still chose to do this tasteless thing, in cold blood, and subject us all to the spectacle of his gloating mug on the back pages, glorying in the opportunity to heap further ridicule on a fellow professional.  An unpleasant and despicable individual, as well as being not one tenth the player that Suarez undeniably is, as he’s always proving.

It always seems to be Man U that are highlighted indulging in unpleasant schoolboy skits like this.  They used to have a reputation for class and impeccable conduct, even under the slightly shady rule of the Edwards family.  That good reputation is long gone.  The modern tendency to revel in the misfortunes and dilemmas of others seems bred into them by their coarse and choleric manager, a man who values the siege complex and nurtures this out of the hate his teams’ conduct inspires.  Suarez has – probably rightly – copped a long ban for his daft action, which gained him nothing and certainly reflected ill on the game.  His conduct was inexcusable, but for a hothead like Suarez there are always reasons, and it seems that every now and again, he will simply run out of self-control.  It’s in his temperamental and hot-blooded nature for this to be so, and sadly that runs against the grain in a colder country than his native Uruguay.

But what’s worse – this instinctive tendency of the Liverpool striker to get carried away in the moment and either lash out or bite off more than he can chew?  Or the sly and nasty, calculated and measured breach of taste perpetrated by Evra, a man usually more sinning than sinned against, and whose actions appear inexplicably to draw nothing more than a fond smile from the Man U-centric media?

I know what I think.  Silly lad, Suarez.  Nasty git, Evra.

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Leeds’ New Home Shirt: Aaaaaaaarrrgghhhhhh!!

Posted on 24/04/2013 | Leave a comment
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Ugh

No, Leeds, no, no, no!  I’m sorry to come across all Thatcheresque, but sometimes you just have to put your foot down with an almighty stomp and have a tantrum in a worthy cause.

This new shirt.  It has stripes!!  Horrible big fat stripes that look like tyre tracks, as if our poor players have been caught unawares by a runaway blue-paint liner.  It’s tawdry, it’s unnecessary.  It’s a massive departure from fifty years of tradition during the vast bulk of which we’ve been resplendent in pure brilliant white shirts.  I mean, I know we were never going to go back to the simplicity of the 1972 kit – obviously flashes and piping and logos and other such fripperies are a part of the scene these days, more’s the pity.  But this?  It’s an abomination!

In the interests of balance though, I should say that some people like it.  There, that’s that done.

We are now destined to enter a new season where Swansea and Spurs are going to look far more like Leeds United than Leeds United do – and frankly, it’s wasted on them.  They’re hardly going to appreciate the fact, are they?

I’m sure we’re stuck with this unfortunate monstrosity, worse luck.  Well, they can stick it for me.  I’m not having one.  What I will do is sally forth to the Club Shop/Tat Emporium/Bates Retirement Fund Megastore, and purchase for myself one pristine, tasteful, fully authentic retro home shirt of a 1992 vintage, which I shall wear as a protest against the sheer bad taste of this awful, awful Macron creation.  And I shall sneer openly at anyone I encounter wearing the ugly thing that’s being foisted upon us..

Leeds United, for heaven’s sake:  what were you thinking of??

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Leeds United’s Roller-Coaster Ride to Mediocrity Must End Soon

Posted on 24/04/2013 | Leave a comment
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The Lifeblood of LUFC

At a time when, once again, there’s a bit of cautious optimism drifting around Elland Road it’s worth reflecting that we’ve been here before, several times in fact since the club returned to what should be its absolute minimum status as a second tier club. In those three seasons, we’ve ridden the traditional roller-coaster; great Cup performances against nominally superior foes at one end of the scale, awful, abysmal defeats against teams we should be easily out-matching at the other. The roller-coaster is a suitable analogy – you go up and down and there are thrills along the way, but ultimately you get nowhere, ending up back where you were and feeling slightly sick.

Is there any real difference this time? Well, maybe. The man we now have in charge is young(ish), undeniably hungry after what seemed an unfortunate dismissal at Reading, and able to point to a Championship record at his former club which is little short of remarkable. Brian McDermott operated on a tight budget at the Madejski Stadium, being forced to sell several of his better players (for a fat profit to the club), and bring through adequate replacements for a fraction of the sum coming in. Yet he oversaw a surge in the league last season from 18 points back to actually pip Southampton for the title, and that doesn’t happen by chance.

So there is possibly cause for optimism for our prospects next season – IF the owners get it right. McDermott has pointed out that he doesn’t want to hear talk of the club backing him – the club should be backing themselves, investing in their own future. He is simply right. His is a message of realism and genuine hope, something we should all appreciate after the confusing messages sent out by Neil Warnock over the past year or so. McDermott has been there and done it, as had Warnock before him. But Warnock’s appointment smacked of desperation and papering over the cracks that were widening as last summer’s takeover saga stretched out to a ridiculous length. McDermott has come in looking a better fit for the club, a round peg in a round hole. It looks very much, just now, as if Leeds United and Brian McDermott need each other almost equally.

Let’s face it, though. Leeds United isn’t going to feel quite right again until we’re back where most of us still feel we rightfully belong: in the top flight, and what is more – pushing towards the top end. Over the past 50 years, that has been the general profile of the club and even after going on for a decade at a lower status, it still looks wrong for that name – Leeds United – to figure outside of the elite. The last real high time we had was promotion from the third level, an escape from a truly shameful period in our history. Thanks, Simon Grayson, you did the job for us. The next peak should be elevation to the Premier League, and we will hope we can thank McDermott for that in the not-too-distant future. But what lies ahead afterwards?

The Premier League is now a big-money cartel, as it really goes without saying. Should we be in a position where promotion to that level appears likely, it will be time – well in advance of the actual confirmation of higher status – to think about exactly what direction Leeds United should be aspiring to. We simply cannot go into this with our eyes shut or blinkers on. Some clubs may be able to go up and budget for immediate relegation, rubbing their hands at the prospect of parachute money. Not Leeds, I would suggest. The weight of history hangs too heavy about our shoulders, the expectations of the fans and their collective pride – a throatily raw and raucous thing – should not encourage or even permit such a negative and unambitious mindset. We have to get there first, but once we do – we have to GO for it, because We Are Leeds. It’s as simple as that. We Are Leeds.

If the people at the top of the club really don’t recognise the import of those three words, then they are certainly not the right people. Mediocrity served Leeds United well for decades, and nothing more was expected of them, not even by died-in-the-wool supporters. Don Revie changed all that, changed it for good; so 24 years after his death, the legacy of the Don still dictates the expectations surrounding the club. However hard it may be to compete these days, in the vastly different game we have now compared to the one that we knew then, that will remain the case because of the worldwide name of Leeds United, and the pride of their followers around the globe, motivated not by glory or trophies, but by the fact that We Are Leeds.

With support like that, with pressure like that, mediocrity is never an option. Once we’re there, we have to go in to win.

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Leeds: Promising Transfer Rumours as McDermott Ponders Options

Posted on 23/04/2013 | Leave a comment

ImageSome of the suggested targets of new United manager Brian McDermott will likely have Leeds fans sitting up and taking notice – as well as licking their lips in anticipation. It has been frustrating to see lesser clubs picking up gems in the market, while our own beloved Leeds have sat by and under-achieved. Now we understand that Brian is possibly of a mind to raid his old club Reading for Adam le Fondre, a man much linked with Elland Road when he was at Rotherham. From what I’ve seen of le Fondre this season he’s done well at Premier League level in a team that has always struggled – surely the sign of a man who would prosper in our league, with his instinctive fox-in-the-box movement and awareness. And what’s more, the talk is that, despite possible interest from middle-ranked top flight clubs, Adam would relish a move to Leeds and a reunion with the manager who gave him such a big chance in the big time.

Another striker often tipped to come to Leeds in the past is Billy Sharp, and this is one I’ve always thought would eventually end up on the strength sooner or later. Sharp is currently on loan at Forest, but his parent club Southampton will probably see a big turnover in the summer, and Billy could be making a permanent move away somewhere. Why not to Elland Road? It will, of course, all depend on the finances.

A less obviously popular signing could be Ian Harte, of whom we might think we know much to put us off. Looking at Hartey’s well-known plus points – he would certainly still present a threat around the opposition penalty area with that quality hammer of a left foot. It was often said though that – for a left back – he could be exposed by pace and that defending wasn’t his strong point. I think though that, for a lot of Harte’s time in his Elland Road career, he suffered from playing behind Harry Kewell, a notoriously lazy git when it came to tracking back and one who, when the going got tough, would frequently limp off. This was particularly noticeable in his Liverpool days, and the less said about his subsequent career, the better.

So maybe Hartey could still do a job at Leeds, operating behind a more industrious wide-left player? I’d be inclined to back McDerrmott’s judgement on that one, whatever it might be. Speaking of which, the question of who we keep is at least as important as that of who we sign. Please, Brian – let us hang onto Super Sam Byram.

There’s going to be many more names thrown up by various media as possible signings between now and the start of next season than the three mentioned above. Who we’ll end up with is anyone’s guess and there remains the worrying possibility that it could be yet another big let-down. But Brian seems to want to import some quality, and you get the feeling he’ll have made his wishes known where it counts. Let’s hope so, and let’s hope that the summer that’s a-coming in proves to be rather more exciting and inspiring than some of the fallow transfer windows of recent years.

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Memory Match No. 7: Blackburn Rovers 3, Leeds United 4 – 14.9.1997

Posted on 23/04/2013 | Leave a comment
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George Graham’s Opinion of the Back Four

1997-98 had got off to a stuttering start as a raft of new signings settled into the club. The first two games had been encouraging; a draw at home to an Arsenal side which would eventually win a deserved Title, and a comfortable success away to Sheffield Wednesday. But three defeats followed to Crystal Palace, Liverpool and Aston Villa, and in none of those games did Leeds United manage so much as a goal. George was not a happy man.

As the teams walked out before a 21956 crowd and live Sky cameras at Ewood Park, we wondered if this was going to be another hapless, goalless performance which would see the season drifting towards under-achievement again – or would Leeds bounce back and rekindle our faith? In a roller-coaster of a game, an archetypal game of two halves, that question was answered emphatically.

I always enjoy watching football at Ewood Park, whether live from the stands, or even on TV. Something about the ground appeals; there’s a faintly Hovis-advert atmosphere outside, an air of cobblestones and tripe. Inside, the changes wrought by Jack Walker’s legacy were apparent to those of us who remembered clashes here before rickety old stands in the 80’s. There’s a spacious feeling to the stadium compared to the cramped impression you get at some grounds. On the telly too, the aspect is pleasing, whether it’s because of a good high camera position or some other trick of the environment, there seems to be lots of room; you can see the pattern of play and appreciate what the teams are up to.

In this game, both teams seemed to be up to the old game of OK, let’s abandon all pretence of a tactical battle here, let’s just score more bloody goals than the other lot and get the points – or at least that was the script until half-time, when two harassed managers got to grips with their too-generous defences and raised the drawbridge. But, oh – that first half.

Leeds were off to an absolute flyer, two goals to the good after a mere six minutes and apparently well and truly over their barren run in front of goal. After only three minutes had elapsed, Gunnar Halle played a great diagonal ball from wide right just inside the Blackburn half, finding Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink on the left wing. Jimmy controlled and crossed in the same movement, so it seemed, standing the ball up at the far post where young Harry Kewell directed a firm header towards goal and Rod Wallace was there to scramble the ball over the line.

Usually, an early goal away from home was the cue for nail-biting among the Leeds fans as our heroes sat back and invited the home team to attack, inevitably conceding when they might have gone on to build a clear advantage. But on this occasion, Leeds did strike again, before Blackburn had even come to terms with being one behind. A corner on the right from Gary Kelly dropped around the penalty spot where Robert Molenaar, in acres of space, met the ball as sweetly as you could wish and directed a firm side-foot volley into the net past a startled Tim Flowers. 2-0 after six minutes, and everything was coming up roses.

However, this was Leeds – and just when you think things are going well, they remind you that’s not how it’s supposed to be. Two minutes further into the game, and the lethal Kevin Gallacher won the ball thirty yards out, glanced up and delivered a thunderous shot into the far corner with Nigel Martyn helpless. Now we looked at each other and grimaced, because a 2-0 lead reduced to 2-1 is a dangerous situation for our beloved club; suddenly you can smell the fear and you suspect that there will be tears before bedtime. Referees tend to be the villains of the piece when we do let leads slip, and Mr Dunn of Bristol hardly covered himself with glory by awarding Blackburn a penalty in what was still only the 16th minute. Martin Dahlin tried to turn Molenaar in the area, there was a “coming together” which ended up with the Swede on the floor and the Dutchman looking innocently bewildered as the ref almost spat out his whistle in his eagerness to blow for a penalty. It was a soft decision of the type we have seen many times over the years – the kind of penalty Man U get loads of and concede none of. THAT kind of penalty. Even Alan Parry seemed surprised. Chris Sutton unceremoniously blasted the ball down the middle and we were level again at 2-2, right back where we started. Despair. Would we now go on to capitulate? Blackburn had been riding high in the league under new manager Woy Hodgson (whatever happened to him?) and they now seemed set to continue their good form by finishing us off.

Happily, it was not to be. Instead of sulking at perceived injustice, Leeds rolled up their sleeves and set about restoring an advantage. A delicious turn in midfield – sort of Cruyff and Dalglish combined – saw the quicksilver Kewell sprinting clear towards the Rovers penalty box where he slipped the ball to Wallace on the left corner of the area. Little Rod controlled the ball and then set off on a jinky dribble across the eighteen yard line, holding off opponents, looking for that fraction of space. As soon as he found it, he wrapped his right foot around the ball and sent it hurtling into the top right hand corner of Flowers’ goal for a sensational and finely-crafted goal. Cue pandemonium in the Leeds end as they watched the Leeds players celebrate in front of the disconsolate home fans. Then, another miracle – what seemed a far clearer call for a Blackburn penalty was ignored by the ref, who may just have been feeling slightly uncomfortable about his earlier award, and so compounded the impression of incompetence by evening things up. It looked blatant and Halle looked guilty, but were we complaining?

And then more joy, as Leeds restored a two goal cushion. Fine play on the left between Wallace and Hasselbaink saw Jimmy showing pace and determination as he surged into the penalty area, then checked back to roll a tempting pass into the path of the onrushing David Hopkin. Hopkin snapped up the chance eagerly, one touch to control and then a slide-rule finish just inside the far post. 4-2 for the Whites. SIX goals by the 23rd minute, and FOUR of them for us. What a great away day – where would it end?

In fact, the end was already in sight. There was still time before the interval for the ref, bless him, to ignore another decent penalty shout for Blackburn as Molenaar appeared to barge into Dahlin in the box. Three penalty decisions, and most probably Mr Dunn got all three wrong, but for once Leeds were on the positive side of the equation. And then, as if to prove our team don’t like us to have it too easy, we managed to get pegged back to 4-3 just after the half-hour, Dahlin turning past a challenge inside the Leeds penalty area and finishing with a smart angled shot. A crazy 33 minutes had seen seven goals, and by half-time just about everyone in the stadium was breathless with the nuttiness of it all.

The second half was an inevitable case of “after the Lord Mayor’s Show” – both teams had clearly been told in no uncertain terms to sort out the defensive shambles, and the game settled back into a battle of give-and-take – still highly competitive, and even quite entertaining, but no match for that riotous first period. No further goals were scored, and Leeds had emerged with a highly creditable victory, to leave George purring about his dearly-valued “comeraderie” which – if it truly is a hybrid of comedy and camaraderie – seemed to fit the bill precisely. It was a victory that set Leeds off towards a decent season ending in European qualification, when defeat might so easily have started us worrying about the other end of the table.

George meanwhile was doubtless unamused at the tendency to let goals in when leading comfortably – a sin perpetrated twice in this match – but he was committed to a more attacking approach this year than last, and we would reap the benefits in other glorious goal-fests as the months went by. 1997-98 is a season I remember fondly for that, a time when the future looked bright under George and you wondered if he could build at Leeds what he had so successfully at Arsenal. Sadly, it wasn’t to be, but there are some very happy memories, and this fun in the sun day at Blackburn is one of the best.

Next: Memory Match No. 8: Sheffield Utd 2, Leeds United 3. On the 21st anniversary of our League Championship triumph, a look back to the crazy, gale and Gayle-affected match at Beautiful Downtown Bramall Lane which paved the way for Sgt Wilko’s Barmy Army to call themselves the best in the land.

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Another Hollow Triumph for Money, Murdoch and Man United

Posted on 22/04/2013 | Leave a comment
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We deserve the Title! We DO!!! Waaaahh!!!

More than likely they’ll be tenaciously cavorting away in dutiful triumph tonight at The Theatre of Hollow Myths, as Man United celebrate another processional title triumph, brushing aside what I expect to be feeble resistance from Aston Villa..

Since Murdoch bought the game, the Trafford-based club have been on easy street. Better-placed than the rest – given their global fan-base – to capitalise on a league based on glitz and merchandise, their fortunes have been linked inextricably with the fortunes of Murdoch’s Sky TV empire as it has tightened its grip on what used to be our national game.

In 1967, Manchester United won the Football League Championship.  Brief flickering highlights were shown in grainy black and white as the champions paraded the famous old trophy.  England were World Cup holders, Harold Wilson was Prime Minister and a pint of bitter cost about 8p.  It would be two years before Man set foot on the moon and Jimmy Greaves had hair.  It was that long ago.  Matt Busby and his team celebrated another trophy, but their era of success was coming to an end.  Man U would never win the Football League Championship again.

Fast forward 25 years, and Man U came as close as they had ever come to regaining the Holy Grail, only to see it snatched from their sight forever as Leeds United took the prize in 1992 by four clear points, becoming the last ever proper League Champions.  But things were about to change, and not before time.  It had been a clear quarter of a century since the media’s favourite team had won the league; that most marketable of clubs had failed, utterly, to rise to the top of the game where their profit potential could best be realised.  The money men in their grey suits were frustrated.  This could not be allowed to go on.

And so the Premier League was born, in a blitz of fireworks, tickertape and dancing girls, complete with cheesy music, the hirsute Richard Keys, a league title trophy modelled on the lines of Thunderbird One and all the bells and whistles an Australian entrepreneur could dream of.  Behind the window-dressing, bigger changes were afoot.  The money would be channelled upwards, in defiance of gravity and the previous trickle-down economics of the game which had afforded some protection to the relative paupers.  The big and the rich would get progressively bigger and richer; the days of the League Title being won mainly on merit were done.

From now on, the destiny of the title would be decided largely on the basis of pre-season balance sheets.  From a situation where he who dared, won – we would now see an era where he who spends biggest stands the best chance.  One club above all others stood to benefit from this Brave New World – Man U, heralded as the Biggest Club In The World (to a background of incredulous giggles in Milan, Barcelona and Madrid) had built up a worldwide following with their relentless harking-back to the legacy of the Busby Babes and the Munich disaster.  Their history had made them everyone’s second-favourite club; now Murdoch’s revolution put them in pole position to capitalise on that, and reap a harvest of trophies from the seeds they’d sown in flogging Man U tat to a globe-full of eager and undiscriminating consumers.

Resistance became sporadic; almost futile (were Man U the sporting equivalent of Star Trek’s Borg?)  Man U won the first two “Premiership” titles before a cash-rich Blackburn out-spent and out-fought them in 1995.  After that the procession continued, the titles piled up at the Theatre of Myths, only Arsenal, Chelsea and Man City have interrupted the monotonous toll of the bell signalling more success for the most effective franchise in football.

Tonight will see the 20th “Title” for the club that used to be loved by many outside of their immediate support, but are now regarded with a dull hatred by proper football fans.  This is put down to jealousy of course; but every fan has a choice, and jealousy is an unnecessary emotion.  Tonight’s latest success will see the appearance of more Man U acolytes everywhere, as the need to be identified with size and success sucks in those of questionable character and inadequate self-esteem.  More Man U shirts in Torquay and Milton Keynes, more tacky memorabilia sold in Stoke and Londonderry.

The 20th title then – but there remains a clear demarcation.  7 titles in their history up to 1967.  13 in the 20 years since 1993.  Is this just a coincidence?  Of course it’s not; if anything it’s an indictment of Man U’s failure.  Somehow, in seven of those years, they’ve failed to win the league, despite the financial and psychological disadvantages of their rivals, they’ve let it slip away.

The fact is that the titles won since 1993 are devalued by the steep slope in Man U’s favour of the playing field on which all have to compete.  Liverpool were dominant in an even competition for the best part of two decades up to the 90’s; it is now 23 years since they were Champions, but their overall record remains formidable.  Whatever Man U might want to make of it as they crow about 20 titles to 18, they know in their heart of hearts that the baubles won in the Murdoch era are of a lesser water than the diamonds Liverpool gathered to them.  The exchange rate is against them; their achievements are relatively less.  If they maintained their current rate of success for another twenty years (and who knows, they might – but it would kill the game), then maybe they could be compared to Liverpool, the acknowledged masters at the time Murdoch’s coup took place.

But for the moment, I say – as a devoted fan of Leeds United – Liverpool are still The Greatest.

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Ingenious Suggestions Invited

Posted on 20/04/2013 | Leave a comment

ImageSo, I’m writing this book.

It’s going to be about my team, Leeds United, and how the club have accompanied me on the highs and lows of my life, giving me misery when I’ve been at my happiest, and more misery when I’ve been down. It’s been done before, but every fan’s story stands alone and is unique in its way. Football affects us all differently, and we all react in an individual way to the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune that the game visits upon us. I started relatively late watching Leeds, and it was all my dad’s fault when I finally got round to it. Thanks, Dad. I think.

Really, I wasted the first 13 years of my life farting about watching old films and reading Biggles and Billy Bunter books, when I could have been watching Revie’s heroes stomping all the opposition into submission, and winning the occasional pot along the way. Instead of seeing us win our solitary FA Cup, I was reading a poem out loud at a Music Festival in Ponte, finishing runner-up in true Leeds United style. Instead of watching us take two league titles, I was being a bookworm and dreaming of a career as an astronaut. Talk about a misspent youth.

I finally started watching Leeds in April 1975. Revie had gone to his ill-fated stint as England boss. Big Jack had gone. The great days had gone too, although that wasn’t apparent at the time. Leeds were on their way to the European Cup Final, and my first game was a 0-2 defeat to Liverpool four days before I saw us beat Barcelona 2-1 in the European Cup Semi, First Leg, Cruyff, Neeskens and all. So, fittingly it was Billy Bremner who gave me my first Leeds goal, rocketing a shot into the top left corner in front of the South Stand as I watched stood precariously on my milk crate in that weird shelfy bit halfway up the Lowfields Stand. I still have the commentary of that goal as a ringtone on my iPhone. Fantastic.

And the rest is history; my history and the downs and ups of Leeds United FC over the subsequent 38 years to date. I hope you’ll buy the book, when it appears, and read more of my memories, interspersed with various rants here and there about how the game was, is and (I’m afraid) will be.

The thing is – I really need a title. I’m a bit stuck there, call it sub-editors’ block. The actual book is coming along nicely, and I think a lot of Leeds fans will empathise with what’s contained between the dust-covers – but I’m damned if I can think of a title for the front. Hang on – “The Damned United”?? Hmmmm, ideal – but I have the feeling it’s been done.

I would really appreciate some suggestions. If I end up using one of them, I will happily credit the owner of the idea on the inside front cover, as you do with proper books. And I’ll furnish a complimentary copy also, so you don’t have to wait for it to appear in the bargain bins for 99p. Can’t say fairer than that.

Honestly, I’m fresh out of original, snappy titles. Please help. As Brian McDermott says, we need to sing Marching On Together, and really mean it, suiting actions to words – so your support and inspired suggestions would be right in line with that Leeds United MOT spirit.

I look forward to some brilliant ideas, thanks in advance.

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Leeds United – Does the Fightback Start With This Sweetest of Wins?

Posted on 15/04/2013 | Leave a comment

Welcome to Leeds, Brian McDermott.  Whatever else happens during your reign at Elland Road, you could hardly have had a better start, and there were signs aplenty of much-needed change in application, atmosphere and attitude in the team, the crowd, the whole club.  And who better to win against in your first game?  Sweet as a nut.  Thank you so much.

Saturday’s 2-1 victory over Sheffield Wednesday was actually beyond sweet, for several reasons. Probably the most important of these was the fact that, after months of saying “we must win today to squeeze into the play-offs”, we’d finally woken up to the brutal reality that a run of poor results had brought us juddering down to; so now it was “we must win today because, oh sweet Jesus, we could get bloody relegated.”  That pressure has at least eased off slightly in the wake of a somewhat nervous but rapturously welcomed win.  We’re not out of the woods yet, but we may at least be out-distancing the wolf and leaving poor Grandma to face a bottom three finish on her own.

The other reasons for relishing Leeds United’s win at the expense of the Wendies, as we fondly think of them, date back to the return fixture at Hillsborough earlier in the season. For those who have forgotten, Leeds played awfully, went behind and looked well on the way to defeat.  Then Michael Tonge’s stunning equaliser was followed immediately by a yob invading the pitch from among the Leeds fans who’d turned up merely to watch the game, and proceeding to land the third-best punch of the evening on the unsuspecting face of Wendies ‘keeper Chris Kirkland.  The two best punches had been landed earlier in the piece by thuggish home defender Miguel Llera on two different Leeds players, and were ignored by the ref, in the normal FA-approved manner.  Llera, a lanky dork in a head-guard, might normally have been subject to some scrutiny after the game for his free interpretation of the rules regarding lamping your opponents in the jaw, but on this occasion the focus was almost entirely upon the actions of the miscreant who’d emerged from the away support.  Questions were asked in the House, resolutions were passed by the United Nations, the NATO alert status was upgraded to Amber and the Galactic Federation issued an ultimatum demanding that Leeds United be relocated to dwarf planet Pluto.  Or that’s how it felt.

Strangely, the only person even slightly to distract the full attention of the Fourth Estate from this heinous act of a drunken thug, was Wendies manager Dave Jones, who seemed confused as to who the real victim was in the whole sorry episode.  Interviewed directly after the match, an over-emotional and highly-strung Jones was asked about his take on events, the interviewer clearly expecting a confirmation that his ‘keeper had been assaulted, that it was disgusting and that it was all Leeds United’s fault.  What Jones came up with though was a protracted whinge about the chants directed at him by Leeds fans, that he’d had this for years, that it was disgusting and that it was all Leeds United’s fault.  He rounded off his tirade of barely-suppressed sobs by stating that the Leeds fans were “vile animals”.  All of them.  No exceptions.

In the next few days, once the laughing over Jones’ histrionics had died down somewhat, many Leeds fans took to posting pictures on social media of their sweet little eight or nine-year old lad or lass, clad in Leeds United regalia, clearly incapable of melting butter in their innocent little mouths, to point out that said little lass or lad had been tarred by the obnoxious and unwisely gobby Jones as a “Vile Animal”.  It was an apt demonstration of how silly it is to open your trap without first engaging your brain, but there was no real climb-down from the defiant Wendies boss, and – the rantings of the gutter press aside – it was generally agreed that he hadn’t come out of it too well, and had indeed made something of a prat of himself.  Apart from seeming entirely focused on his own perceived (non-physical) injuries, to the exclusion it appeared of his poor goalkeeper who had actually copped for a fourpenny one, Jones had also managed to cock a deaf ‘un to the vile – if I may borrow his word of choice – chants from the Wendies faithful about the two Leeds fans murdered in Istanbul.  Jones’ lexicon of sick insults  would seem to be a highly selective publication.  If only he could have foreseen how the “Vile Animals” tag would be taken up by the Leeds faithful, almost as an inverted badge of honour, maybe wiser counsel would have prevailed.  But it’s probably fair to say that Jones doesn’t have a wiser counsel.

Annoyingly after all this, Mr David Jones, Sheffield Wednesday’s current manager, was not apparent on the touchline at Elland Road on Saturday.  We’d all been looking forward to renewing the acquaintance, to seeing Jones trying to avoid the scornful gaze of twenty thousand people, to watching him squirm as the hated Whites (hopefully) trod his on-form Wendies into the turf.  The victory came to pass, as we know; but Jones had managed to incur a highly convenient and opportune touchline ban, so was mercifully spared running the gauntlet of vile animals and copping for another load of earthy West Yorkshire humour.  Some would say that Jones had engineered this situation by deliberately making intemperate comments after a draw at Bristol City which he knew would see him wriggle out of an Elland Road ordeal, and that it was the act of a coward and a hypocrite.  And I’d be among their number.  Dave Jones is a ridiculous and embittered little man, and I can hardly think of a more fitting victim for what was – I sincerely hope – only the first of many McDermott-inspired victories for Leeds United.

So this victory was the ideal start, but the Strife of Brian may yet be lurking ahead.  Even if Leeds do finally pull well clear of the drop-zone in the remainder of this season, the new Gaffer certainly has his work cut out to rebuild the morale of a club that has lurched through a long drawn-out crisis of a season which has brought massive disappointment in the league, only partly assuaged by two decent Cup runs and the slaying of several Premier League “giants” at Elland Road – just to remind us what being Leeds used to be all about.  Can Brian restore these heady times and glory days?  It all depends, not least on the support he can winkle out of whoever owns the club by the time summer finally comes.  Next season will be a success if the playing style can be found to suit the personnel available, and if the team actually compete like they mean it, instead of strolling through the motions like case-studies for chronic apathy.  Promotion would be nice, but it’s not mandatory, not in a manager’s first season.  Let’s just battle, show some application and skill, and let’s get that old Leeds United spirit back, so that we can be not just loud, but proud again.

Oh – and if Mr Jones has somehow clung on to his Hillsborough hot-seat – six points off the Wendies would be just lovely too.  Thanks again.

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Manchester United – They’re Just Not All That Good

Posted on 13/04/2013 | Leave a comment
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Accuser and Accused

At last, a Premier League football manager has gone public and given voice to a dark suspicion that thousands of us fans have harboured for a long time now. Roberto Mancini, may his name be blessed, says that teams facing the Mighty Manchester United are infected with a fatal lack of belief which amounts a lot of the time to actual fear. This, says Mancini, explains a large proportion of the Red Devils’ domestic dominance. It’s not that they’re that good, he argues; rather it’s that a lot of the opposition simply fail to mount a robust challenge and end up meekly relinquishing league points that nobody really expects them to gain.

Predictably, Man U’s long-serving manager Alex Ferguson is having none of this, accusing the Italian coach of Manchester City of seeking “self-sympathy” – whatever that might be. But the Mancini case is quite persuasive, particularly for anyone whose second-favourite team is whoever the Champions-elect happen to be playing on any given occasion. For those people (and I am proud to count myself among their number) the ongoing spectacle is one of a succession of teams turning up to face Ferguson’s side, and doing very little apart from that – spineless capitulations being the industry standard or so it seems. Very unedifying for those with Manchester United’s worst interests at heart but also, I would strongly suggest, pretty bad for the game as a whole.

So what is the evidence for this alleged collective lack of bottle and professional application? And if it’s true, where does the fear come from? Whence, the lack of self-belief?

Let’s initially get down to cases. As I mentioned earlier, I am a steadfast watcher of the televised games of Manchester United (of which, courtesy of Mr Murdoch, a man who knows his markets, there are many.) I don’t watch with any real expectation of enjoyment; that outcome will only come about if Man U slips to an unexpected defeat or, rarely and joyfully, a real hammering. Much more often though, I sit there in an increasingly foul frame of mind as the latest feeble challengers to the Mighty Reds roll over to have their bellies tickled prior to succumbing politely, without much of a fight at all. All too often this process is aided by the dodgy decisions which famously tend to fall the way of Mr Ferguson’s men, or maybe by copious amounts of what has become known as “Fergie Time”, the perceived need for which varies according to whether his charges are winning or losing. However it happens, it’s all the more depressing because of this pitiful lack of resistance displayed by all too many opponents. You feel frustrated – on your own behalf because you want “Them” to lose – but also on behalf of all those who switch on just hoping to see a good competitive game, with both sides giving their all. That just doesn’t happen often enough, and you sit there and wonder why.

A big factor at play here could well be the psychological gap hinted at by Mancini. What exactly are teams up against Man Utd facing? Not merely eleven chaps clad in red, or whichever of their numerous other kits they might be sporting. In professional competition, especially at the very top level, at least half the battle is in the head; that’s well-established fact. Do these opposing players believe they can win, or do they enter the arena as lambs to the slaughter? Do they feel any real pressure to win from their fans, or do they suspect those fans will quite understand and accept a defeat? Not very much of this type of thinking is required to take that psychological edge off performance.

The particularly annoying thing is that this Man Utd team really aren’t all that good. They got found out twice in Europe last season, latterly by Atletico Bilbao, a team who finished well out of the running in La Liga, but who gave the Mancs the most terrible seeing-to in both legs of an extremely one-sided tie. They’ve been beaten by Chelsea – a side who are themselves in transition – in both domestic Cups this season, and chucked out of Europe this time around by a Real Madrid side who hardly let them have the ball at all.

The European element is of particular interest as it may well be significant that, outside of this country, opposing players aren’t subjected to the constant drip, drip, drip of Man U media adulation that is visited upon domestic foes. Everywhere a player might turn in this country, there’s another article or broadcast or pundit, invariably churning out copious praise of “United”, with emetic results for those of us who don’t buy into the popular legend. What is the cumulative effect of all this? Another dulling of that psychological edge, that’s what.

The media love to talk about Ferguson’s “mind games”, but they’ve never really been anything other than the ramblings of an ever older gentleman, notorious for his inability to see more than one point of view – his own. Greater and wiser exponents of psychological warfare exist in Mourinho, Wenger and Mancini himself – all continental chaps, significantly enough. The edge given to Man U in the battle of wits and wills tends to be provided by a complaisant media and that, I believe, is precisely what the astute Mancini is getting at.

Maybe this is why Ferguson felt the need to come out with such an immediate if not altogether fluent rebuttal. Other clubs have caught up with and perhaps surpassed his own in terms of talent on the field and punch in the transfer market. Ferguson is not likely to want to see any narrowing of the psychological advantage afforded to him by his yes-men in the Fourth Estate. If the Premier League were to be transformed – by such a relieving of the mental barrage – into a level playing field with some willingness on the part of current also-rans to compete and believe, then the current gulf at the top would be a heck of a lot smaller. And then, perhaps, we’d see Champions on merit; not merely winners by default as we will get this season, who have had almost literally nothing to beat for a large portion of the time.

Now that’s the kind of Premier League I’d like to see. Well said, Signor Mancini. Keep the pressure on.

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