Tag Archives: Sky TV

Be the Judge: the Top Ten Leeds United Goals? – by Rob Atkinson

Posted on 25/01/2015 | 14 comments

Now, this is not my personal selection of the top ten Leeds United goals – I suspect that I’m older than the compiler of this excellent video, so I’d have had some of my favourites from further back in there – then again, you could easily end up with a Top 20 or 30 that way. Fifty or a hundred, even – there’s a rich seam to be mined if your memory’s long enough. Off the top of my head, I’d go for David Batty‘s goal drought-ending effort against Man City – for the crowd reaction as much as anything else. And I’d have Tony Currie‘s famous “banana shot” for sheer quality. Both goals scored in games I saw from the Kop, at that end of the ground – which perhaps explains my bias.

I’m sure there are many, many more goals that could or should merit inclusion in a top ten that goes back further than this one – I’d love to hear your nominations too – but I reckon that this guy has done a pretty fair job all round. I agree with the order of his top two, for a start – I’ve always thought that Yeboah’s thunderbolt at Wimbledon was better than his goal of the season effort at home to Liverpool.

In the course of this video, Liverpool come in for a fair bit of punishment, actually. All four of Viduka’s famous quartet are there – even the offside winner, which seems a little harsh. And of course Yeboah picked on the Scousers too, with that wondrous dipping volley.

Speaking of “Goals of the Season, there’s one in there that should have been a winner – but it wasn’t, due to the clueless ineptitude of Andy Gray. Long before he got sacked for his sexist pig double-act with his hirsute mate Richard Keyes, Gray used to apply his “expertise” to the Sky version of MoTD‘s annual beauty contest for goals. He passed over little Rodders’ effort against Spurs, saying that the Spurs defence had basically stood aside and politely waved Wallace through. Andy – yooouu PLONKER. And, to add insult to injury, he actually chose a bog-standard far-post header by Alan Shearer against Leeds. Clueless Scottish git.

Anyway, see what you think if you have a few spare minutes. It’s a video well worth watching – and you can decide for yourselves about the goals left out, and what order these ten should have been in according to your own preferred favourite. But most of all, just enjoy these mainly fabulous goals all over again.

14 Comments

Posted in Football, Leeds United

Tagged Andy Gray, Australia, best goals, Ghana, Leeds United, Liverpool FC, Mark Viduka, Sky TV, Tony Yeboah, Wordpress

What a Weekend! The Thrashing of Huddersfield from the Leeds United SkyBet Box – by Rob Atkinson

Posted on 25/09/2014 | 45 comments

View from the Top

Now that the dust has settled on my “Weekend Mirabilis” of a few days back – now that the successive hangovers have lifted and the blood pressure has reverted to its former levels of merely mildly unhealthy – now, at last, I can take the time to reflect on what was 48 hours of almost unadulterated pleasure and exultation, something very rare in the life of any Leeds United fan.

The bare bones of this orgy of enjoyment are that Leeds United thrashed Huddersfield Town 3-0 on the Saturday and then, having departed on a well-earned seaside break after returning from Elland Road, I was able to watch the once-mighty man u, the Pride of Devon themselves, comically throw away a two-goal lead not once but twice, as they salvaged a 3-5 defeat from the jaws of victory at Leicester. Not at all a bad weekend, you’d have to agree. But that, gentle reader, is not even the half of it.

A few days prior to Huddersfield’s Humbling, with my mind on matters no higher than nettle clearance in the lower field at Atkinson Towers, I received an email out of the blue from a gentleman named Ross Watson, representing SkyBet, who were running a promotion of their Transfer Fund at Elland Road for the United v Town match. The Transfer Fund offers the chance for registered Leeds fans to win £5,000 for themselves as well as a transfer jackpot of £250,000 for Leeds United, with every £1 bet earning a token which then goes into a draw. It’s one of those “you’ve got to be in it to win it” things; the more bets made by a fan of any Football League club, the more chance there is of that club – and some lucky fan – benefiting as above. It’s easy to register, and there is the dual attraction of a flutter on your team, together with the additional chance of winning big and helping your club – even, potentially, with a losing bet.

As if that’s not enough to recommend SkyBet, they’ve also had the immense good taste to read and enjoy this blog; hence the email from Ross who was very kindly inviting me along to the Leeds v Huddersfield game to watch the match from a corporate box in the East Stand (less than fondly known as the “Delph Shelf” by Leeds fans, all too well aware of where the money came from to fit it out in such resplendent style). Furthermore, there was a three-course meal and complimentary bar, the genial company of Sky’s “Mr Deadline Day”, Jim White, the enticing possibility of meeting fellow bloggers and various celebs – and I could bring a guest. So Mrs Rob got a day out, too.

My experience is that, when a thing appears too good to be true, it’s normally because it’s not true. My first reaction, then, was a slightly less than gracious “what’s the catch” – but I am here to record for posterity that there was no catch and that the occasion delivered beyond my wildest dreams.

Considering that I’ve always had an innate suspicion of the corporate box experience – blame my proletarian roots for that – and that I’ve always been instinctively hostile to the kind of people I imagined I’d meet in such bastions of privilege, the day was a revelation from the start. It hasn’t cured me of yearning for the return of the terraces, but it has introduced me to a more comfortable way of watching football, one more appropriate to my age, perhaps, if not my wallet. Not having to spend a bean all day certainly did appeal to the parsimonious Yorkshireman in me – and let’s face it, the result didn’t exactly harm my prospects of enjoying the experience.

But all that aside, my afternoon in East Stand Box 34 blew me away at least as much because of the sheer kindness of everybody, the smooth efficiency of the match-day staff, the absence of any snobbery (which I’d at least half-expected) and the novel feeling of being well looked-after – at a football match! For someone with a good few decades as a supporter behind him, and vivid memories of bricks at Millwall, police horses at Bradford and needing an oxygen tent at Sheffield – it was an eye-opener, alright.

From the very beginning, as we entered somewhat diffidently through the imposing East Stand portal, people simply couldn’t have been kinder or more friendly and considerate. A svelte blonde lady noted our names, issued our tickets and saw that we were conducted to level 4 by lift and then delivered to our plushly-appointed box. We were among the first to arrive, but gradually the room, dominated by a promising-looking dining table, filled up. I met Keith Ingham, frequent contributor to We All Love Leeds and his son Ryan, who has an article/parable in the current issue of The Square Ball; there was a heady mix of competition winners and dedicated bloggers present as the drinks kept on coming, sparking off a warm and friendly atmosphere while we anticipated what was to come.

All the way through the afternoon, I was struck by the lack of any awkwardness, the relaxed and convivial atmosphere, where I had thought there might be a certain stuffed-shirt flavour to proceedings. Nothing of the sort – just smiley happy people everywhere as liquid hospitality was absorbed along with the gathering atmosphere of a crowd approaching 30,000. We weren’t insulated from that inspiring sound either, the crowd noise was a welcome accompaniment to the friendly chat in the box. And then dinner was served; sorry Mr Keane, not a prawn sandwich in sight. It was Yorkshire Pud to start for me, as befits. A “Duo of Chicken” was the #LLUUE main course of choice and then a welcome slab of trifle. A few bottles of wine rounded things off along with coffee and mints. It was what Lord Snooty in the Beano used to call a toothsome tuck-in, and as far from anything I’d ever experienced at Elland Road before as it is possible to get. All we needed now was for the match to go well for our heroes in White…

Well, the rest, as you know, is history. The three peaks of the actual football part of the afternoon left me reassured as to exactly how the other half support. Again, I’d wondered if the atmosphere would be diluted, if the joy of seeing the ball hit the back of the opposition’s net would, in some way, be lessened by such rarefied surroundings. Not a bit of it. The seats were ridiculously comfortable; all the easier to jump out of them as first Austin, then Antenucci and finally Doukara hit the heights for Leeds. Once the action was under way, we felt as much a part of the crowd as I’d ever known; alright, there was no swaying and rib-crushing as with those dear old seventies Kop days and evenings, but equally there was no sense of detachment, no feeling of being divorced from the action. It was as enjoyable a match-watching experience as I can remember, aided of course by the decisive margin of victory and the fact that the away fans were hating every minute of it. But there was so much more to the whole afternoon than just the match.

At half time, I went into the main concourse – and immediately met Terry Yorath, one of the Revie glory boys and as approachable and friendly as you could wish. And, as if to confirm the other-wordliness of it all, there too was Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise, sporting a Huddersfield Town badge on this occasion, in place of his more usual Starfleet one. For once, he was the alien in this situation. I wandered by, shields up, phaser on stun. Huddersfield were being assimilated; resistance was futile.

After the match, there was no hurry to leave. I had the chat I’d promised myself with Jim White, gently upbraiding him on his efforts to stir up interest in Ross McContract on the last deadline day but one, the night that Big Mass got barricaded inside Elland Road. It all seems so long ago now, with Ross44 gone and unlamented – and Mr White was all polished affability, flashing a smile that matched his hair for megawatt brilliance. “Aye, 11 million you got for him in the end? Extraordinary!” Indeed.

After the free bar, the good company, the sumptuous meal, the fantastic Leeds United performance and the chance to mingle and chat with some of the great and the good – the best was still to come. We were all gathered in a happy knot in the box, finishing off drinks, chatting and celebrating – when one of our number pointed out that Massimo Cellino himself was just a few boxes down from us, holding court for the Sky reporters. Emboldened by the occasion (and by the red wine), a few of us negotiated the metal barriers between boxes – and there we were, shaking hands with il Presidente, asking for and being granted selfies with the Sheriff, smiling and laughing with the one and only driver of the Leeds United bus. For a Leeds fan who has suffered along with thousands of others for the greater part of this century as well as a goodly chunk of the last one, it was like a dream – something I could scarcely have envisaged when I was digging up nettles just a few short days before.

Regrets? I have a few. Well, just one really. It was a shame that my good friend Andy Gregory, owner of the excellent We All Love Leeds blog, couldn’t make it along, due to holiday commitments. I know he’d have loved every minute of it, too. Characteristically, he made sure that his loss was someone else’s gain and Keith and Ryan, both contributors to the great body of Leeds United reportage, deservedly reaped the benefit. By Saturday evening, heading for the Mysterious East (Filey), I honestly thought that the weekend had given me all it possibly could – I was just looking forward to a few days’ relaxation to treasure my memories and “chillax”, as the young people say. But then came Leicester City to make my Sunday a cause for celebration too, and precipitate a second consecutive hangover. Corporate box or no corporate box, it’s tough at the top.

Thanks, in no particular order, to Leeds United, Leicester City, Huddersfield Town, man u, SkyBet, Massimo Cellino, Jim White and his lovely partner Katie, Ross Watson, the guy called Dave whose surname I didn’t catch, Keith & Ryan Ingham and the rest of the Box 34 fraternity, my wife who got me the Cellino signed programme and the SkyBet Football League pin badge, Terry Yorath and the kind and hard-working catering staff in the Elland Road East Stand. You’ve all made an old fan very happy – and that makes a very refreshing change.

45 Comments

Posted in Football, Leeds United

Tagged catering staff, corporate box, East Stand, hospitatilty, Huddersfield Town, Jim White, Leeds United, Leicester City, Mnachester United, Patrick Stewart. Star Trek, Sky TV, SkyBet, USS Enterprise

Crocodile Tears from Lineker and Stelling Won’t Fool Leeds Fans – by Rob Atkinson

Posted on 29/08/2014 | 36 comments

Gary “Wingnut” Lineker

What have Gary Lineker and Jeff Stelling got in common? Well, they’re both engaging chaps who front popular football programmes on the telly; they have both developed a “style” – for want of a better word – designed to endear them to the less demanding fans out there – and, most recently, they have both taken out an onion and wept tears of breathtaking falseness over what they sincerely hope is the impending demise of Leeds United.

Lineker is the latest incarnation of Match of the Day man, presiding over the ongoing popularity of a football highlights programme with fifty years of variable quality behind it. It was under his stewardship that one of the programme’s less glorious deeds was perpetrated when, in the wake of S’ralex’s long-overdue retirement from the Theatre of Hollow Myths, the programme put together a montage of managerial greats, with the Purple-Nosed One at the head of the parade, natch. This item was notable to real students of the game for its studied failure to even mention the name of the greatest club manager of all, Sir Don Revie. It was a tawdry attempt to reinvent history and appeal in the most insidious and deceitful fashion to the vast army of the programme’s viewers out there who “all hate Leeds” – but couldn’t tell you why, beyond a mumbled “….well, me Dad hated ’em, like…” Complaints to the BBC elicited nothing more than that cowardly corporation’s usual bland, patronising stonewall response – and Lineker did nothing other than essay his well-practised boyish grin, which apparently has middle-aged women the nation over suddenly needing a change of undies.

Now Lineker’s Twitter account states that he “genuinely feels for Leeds fans”. He clearly feels the need to qualify his sincerity by use of that word “genuinely” – that’s a sign of someone talking about someone or something on which they’d normally waste no finer feelings. But Gary feels “the heart has been torn out of the club”, hence his crocodile tears. Well, we’ll wait until the next time Match of the Day needs to revisit the managerial greats issue, thanks, and see if you’ve actually learned anything – no breath will be held.

Stelling: Countdown to hypocrisy

Jeff Stelling is a sort of semi-comic front man for Sky’s Soccer Saturday programme, where one of his chief delights is to let a few seconds of tension build up for Leeds fans out there in TV land, before delivering a hammer blow with news of another goal against us – all with that trademark smug smirk on his gob. Now he, too, has chosen to sob publicly about his anguish over the Leeds situation. Jeff clearly thinks no small beans of himself – part of his counterfeit yet tear-stained lament includes the telling phrase “On the field, it is a total shambles with unknown player after unknown player coming into the club – I defy Leeds fans to say they have heard of them because I certainly haven’t – and it looks like it is going to be a terrible, terrible season”. Overlooking for a moment the fierce hope detectable in those last few words, it’s amusing to see that Stelling is so sure that, if he’s never heard of a player, then no Leeds fan can possibly have heard of him either. That’s some ego, for a Hartlepool fan. Unbelievable, Jeff! If he were to cast his mind back, Stelling might possibly reflect on who, exactly, had heard of Patrick Vieira before he signed for Arsenal – or Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink (Leeds), Eric Cantona (Sheffield Wendies on trial), and so on and so forth. Mr Stelling should, perhaps, wind his neck in a little and admit the possibility that he is not the fount of all football wisdom – except, maybe, when compared to Paul “I fink he’s only got free goals all season, Jeff” Merson. The Sky front-man’s expert opinion is that Leeds are doomed to relegation this season. Wishful thinking, Jeff?

When times are hard and you’re not all that popular to begin with, then you should expect wolves in sheep’s clothing, people who will smile and smile and be villains, well-meaning types who will sidle around behind as if to pat you on the back, before slipping a knife between your ribs. Leeds United and Leeds fans should be familiar from past experience with all of these unsavoury types, and their crocodile tears and weasel words should not fool us now. Just wait for better times to roll around, and the soft sawder and treacly syrup of ersatz sympathy will disappear like a ghost at cock-crow – it’ll be all open nastiness and overt bitching again. And do you know? I actually prefer it that way, so please bring it on.

We’re Leeds United, we hate to be pitied and we love to be hated. Your hate is what makes us stronger, after all – so please forget all the bovine ordure Gary and Jeff – let’s get back to normal eh? As soon as you like, there’s good chaps.

36 Comments

Posted in Football, Leeds United

Tagged BBC, crocodile tears, Gary Lineker, Hartlepool United, hypocrisy, Jeff Stelling, Leeds United, Match of the Day, Sky Sports Saturday, Sky TV, TV, Twitter, wishful thinking

Watching With the Enemy: Yeovil 1, Leeds Utd 2 – by Rob Atkinson

Posted on 08/02/2014 | 20 comments

Following Leeds United by any means is traditionally a frustrating experience. Watching them “live and as it happens” on Sky TV can be downright infuriating, especially if, as I do, you prefer your journalism impartial and unbiased. It’s something which negatively affects the Sky experience, whichever way the game is going. When Leeds are struggling and go a goal behind, the commentators’ jubilation makes you want to fasten your hands around the offenders’ throats and squeeze tightly. When our heroes come back, taking the lead and seeing it out, the funereal sulkiness is no less annoying. But circumstances dictate that I could not make the trip to the West Country, so I must perforce grit my teeth and try to relax and enjoy the match. Fat chance.

This game at Yeovil took place at the end of a week you would think could have been played out only in the most lurid fiction, dreamed up by the over-active imagination of a hopeless fantasist on some really powerful mushrooms. Quite frankly, I’m too tired to go over those events again; suffice it to say that the bizarre weather conditions at Yeovil’s tiny and typhoon-ravaged ground seemed like the most mundane normality compared to what had gone before. Most of the first half consisted of the Leeds players striving to propel the ball anywhere near the home side’s half of the pitch, their clearances mostly ballooning into the air, performing a complicated loop-the-loop and drifting back towards the United goal. Rinse and repeat. Our neutral and unbiased commentators, Daniel Mann and Don Goodman, were getting more and more uneasy at Yeovil’s failure to capitalise on the conditions; clearly the prospect of Leeds benefiting from playing the other way in the second half was a matter of extreme concern. There was a peak of joy and a trough of deep disappointment ahead for them, before the half-time whistle blew.

First, a left-wing corner just after the half-hour. “At last, an in-swinger coming”, breathed the commentator, fired with anticipation. And then joy unconfined as the ball whipped in viciously to be met by the head of Ishmael Miller and rocket past Paddy Kenny into the Leeds net. Mann and Goodman brought out their pre-baked line about it being the first time in history that Yeovil had taken the lead against United, as renewed optimism surged through them. Kenny was less chuffed; he had spent most of the half with the look of a man who suspects a practical joke is being played upon him, regarding the ball with the utmost suspicion as its path through the air invariably took some unpredictable diversion. Now he shook his head, glumly. It was not a day for keepers or defenders, not in the teeth of this gale – but Leeds had almost weathered the storm and could feel optimistic about a wind-assisted second half with just the one goal to pull back.

Then, disaster – depending on your point of view. Mann and Goodman exulted – a penalty to Yeovil, conceded by Sam Byram’s tackle on Kevin Dawson, and a chance for the home team to establish a lead they might hope to hold against the wind in the second half. I slouched down in my seat, ready for the worst – but Miller blasted the spot-kick gloriously high, clipping the crossbar before continuing on into low Earth orbit. I allowed myself a cautious smile, but the misery in the commentary box was palpable; a great chance missed to go in two goals to the good – now there were very real fears over what the second half might bring.

Barely half a minute into that second period, those worst fears of Messrs Mann and Goodman were realised. A comical kick-out from Town keeper Marek Stech resembled a vertical banana as it soared high and reversed direction, dropping to the lethal Ross McCormack. The United striker snapped up possession, shifted the ball past a defender onto his right foot and dispatched a beautiful curling effort wide of Stech into the far corner. “Might have been a slight deflection on that,” grumbled a morose Goodman. 200 miles north, my joy was only slightly tempered by the obvious sulkiness of the Sky guys. We were level – suck it up.

As the second half progressed, the weather stayed remarkably faithful to Leeds, contrary to my pessimistic half-time feeling that the wind would probably change for the second forty-five. Leeds were thus enabled to do to their hosts as they themselves had been done by in the first half, and at one point a possession graphic showed the unimpressive figure of 0% Yeovil activity in United’s final third. Town did pose the odd threat, however – commentator Mann grabbing the chance to claim that Yeovil were dealing better with playing into the wind than Leeds had – but it was mainly one-way traffic apart from a few home forays towards the United goal, with one comical but alarming piece of juggling by Kenny being safely retrieved.

A bizarre match was decided in an inevitably bizarre fashion. Leeds won a free-kick on the right, far out from Town’s goal. With sub Matt Smith on, it was tailor-made for a high, in-swinging delivery, and Stephen Warnock duly obliged – only to see the ball evade Smith and all of the other personnel in the penalty area, including Town keeper Stech, as it described a parabolic trajectory up and then down over all of the helpless heads and arms, into the Yeovil net. Warnock triumphantly raised his arm as if he’d meant it, the Leeds players and fans cavorted with joy at the turning of the tables, and the gruesome twosome of Mann and Goodman very nearly wept.

That was pretty much it for a game of two halves but one fairly consistent gale. Jimmy Kebe, falling short of his performance of last week in a very different sort of game, could and should have scored a third, as perhaps should McCormack himself. There was still time for Mann to welcome Yeovil sub James Hayter with the story of how he did for Leeds in a Wembley play-off final, but any wishful thinking along those lines was doomed to come to nothing. Leeds could even have had more, but were wasteful, meaning that the two Yeovil fans-for-a-day on the Sky gantry could hold onto some shreds of hope right to the end. But end it did, with United victorious, Yeovil plucky but beaten, and the broadcasters misty of eye and with lips aquiver, trying to put a brave face on things.

Afterwards, Brian McDermott was invited into the Sky studio under the beady gaze of Peter Beagrie where, subjected to some fairly intense and persistent questioning, he produced another bravura performance of dignity and restraint, refusing to be drawn on his future, refusing to comment on the changes currently sweeping through the club, insisting time and again on emphasising his commitment to the team, his staff and most of all the Leeds United “army” of fans. What a guy. If that most precious managerial commodity – time – could be earned by sheer class and composure, then Brian would be in the job until the day he draws his pension. Sadly, it’s unlikely to work out that way but, in the meantime, hats off to a quality man.

So, it’s on to Brighton next Tuesday and thankfully a game out of the Sky TV glare, before Signor Cellino’s date with the Football League. Who knows what will have happened in the Leeds United soap opera by the time next weekend rolls around? That’s a break for Leeds who have no game thanks to their early FA Cup exit. But even though there’ll be no football, you somehow know that the on-going story of the Damned United will still be twisting, turning and baffling us all – and you know that Sky TV will still be sniffing around and hoping against hope that it all ends in tears for the Whites. Fingers crossed that there’s more misery ahead for Murdoch’s men.

20 Comments

Posted in Football, Leeds United

Tagged Brian McDermott, Leeds United, Sky TV, Yeovil Town

Sky TV Fail to Sell Leeds United Skipper Ross McCormack – by Rob Atkinson

Posted on 31/01/2014 | 34 comments

Ross Restores the Faith

As transfer deadline day wound its way down to the 11pm cut-off, you could tell that – from an earlier peak of feverish excitement – the Sky TV staff on the Jim White + Bimbo Show were starting to lose hope. At around 8pm, in the wake of a shocked McCormack’s on-the-spot interview, the hype was palpable as the hacks demanded of him whether he would now be looking to move, having pledged himself to Leeds only two hours before. Ross sounded distressed, unhappy – as was only to be expected. Thousands upon thousands of Leeds United fans were out here, feeling very much the same.

That the trashy gutter reporters of Murdoch’s cess-pool of a TV station should try to capitalise on this was as sadly predictable as it was disgraceful and unprofessional. But we have come to expect this from Sky. When they’re not trying to pile the agony on for Leeds United, they’re leaning over backwards to reassure the Devon-based fans of that lesser United, Manchester’s second team. You may have noticed that Juan Mata has been elevated to the status of dream signing and world-class star, since his move to the Theatre of Hollow Myths.

But, in the end – all the Sky hype, excitement and pressure not withstanding – Ross has shown with the above tweet that he’s very much his own man. He’s exhibited that “Keep Fighting” resolve and grit that were in the very DNA of the great Revie team. He’s shown that he can bounce back, be a professional, and do it for the fans, the shirt, the badge – and for his equally-shocked team-mates who face a local derby tomorrow.

Bloody well said, Ross. We’re so proud of you. Now let’s show the world what it means to be Leeds.

34 Comments

Posted in Football, Leeds United

Tagged Leeds United, Ross McCormack, Rupert Murdoch, Sky TV

Sky Disgrace Themselves Over McCormack Transfer Blast – by Rob Atkinson

Posted on 31/01/2014 | 41 comments

Trash TV

It could only happen at Leeds. For the second time in recent history, the manager is sacked as the January transfer window closes. And, in a rare example of Murdoch’s tacky Sky Sports Transfer Deadline programme even recognising the existence of Leeds, the trashy satellite station were immediately all over Ross McCormack like a bad rash.

McCormack pronounced himself “happy to stay at Leeds and play for McDermott” only a couple of hours ago. Now, in the immediate aftermath of the brutal ending of The Strife of Brian, Ross was hauled onto the Sky airwaves, understandably gutted and shell-shocked. The presenters’ agenda was clear – could this transfer be revived? Could the knife be twisted in the Leeds United stab-in-the-back wound?

McCormack was badgered over whether McDermott’s dismissal changed things. He displayed enough ambivalence for the Sky hacks to scent blood. Cut down to Cardiff, where they collared a handy chav to plead for Ross to “come back”.

It was deeply un-classy stuff. It didn’t reflect too well on McCormack, but it showed Sky up for the tacky gutter station they are. At one point, McCormack’s distressed interview, full of shock and compassion for his ex-manager, was described as “the best thing for ages”. Such are the standards at the bottom of the journalism barrel.

I happen to believe that Brian’s dismissal means it’s more or less certain that Massimo Cellino is now calling the shots. There are strong rumours also of two players coming in on loan from Cagliari. It looks as though what amounts to more of a coup – and not a bloodless one – than a takeover is virtually done and dusted.

What next for Leeds? If we get to 11pm with our captain and top scorer still on the playing staff, I’ll be happily surprised. There’s not much else to be happy about. Leeds United are the laughing-stock of the football world tonight.

As for what might happen in the game against Huddersfield tomorrow, well who knows. The players’ state of mind can only be guessed at. As I write, Sky’s efforts to sell McCormack are redoubling. They report that his representatives have been contacted by SIX clubs since “our sensational interview”. They seem to be implicitly approving the tapping-up of our skipper. What a disgusting organisation they are.

Wake me up when it’s summer, someone – unless we’ve been relegated.

41 Comments

Posted in Football, Leeds United

Tagged Brian McDermott, Cardiff City, Leeds United, Massimo Cellino, Ross McCormack, Sky TV

Could Careless Talk Have Counted Tragically Towards the Loss of a Life? – by Rob Atkinson

Posted on 25/11/2013 | 36 comments

It was a very mixed weekend for Leeds United fans. On the Saturday, the team beat Middlesbrough 2-1 to enter the play-off zone and maintain their recent good run. But on Sunday, we awoke to news that one of our number, in a coma for over a year since being attacked on a night out in Sheffield on the 11th November 2012, had sadly died without ever regaining consciousness. And at that point I have to say “Rest In Peace” to Richard Ismail, 45 years old, known to his friends as “Moody”. The thoughts of so many are with his family at this awful time. All of those who will be looking for justice to be done will be relieved to hear that, since a change of law in 1996, there is no longer a year-and-a-day cut off point for a charge of murder to be brought. There will therefore now be a murder investigation even though Mr Ismail’s death occurred over the old time limit after the attack. It’s understood that three individuals, widely believed to be fans of Sheffield Wednesday FC, are currently out on bail pending further possible action.

Under a month before the attack on Moody, Sheffield Wednesday had met Leeds United in a Championship fixture at Hillsborough Stadium. It was not an edifying spectacle. There were scenes of violence on the field as Wednesday’s scrum-capped central defender Miguel Llera charged around, putting in tackles that resembled various degrees of common assault. Leeds defenders, as is their wont, gave as good as their team-mates got. In the second half, just after United’s equalising goal, a lone Leeds fan ran onto the pitch and pushed a startled Wednesday keeper Chris Kirkland in the face causing him to fall and remain, shocked, on the ground. The moron responsible went back into the crowd, but was subsequently identified and prosecuted. Throughout the evening, both sets of fans breached the boundaries of good taste, Leeds fans taunting Wednesday manager David Jones over charges relating to alleged child abuse, of which he had been cleared years earlier. Wednesday fans for their part gleefully mocked the Leeds support over the deaths of two Leeds fans in Istanbul in the year 2000. It was a bad and disgusting day at the office and, sadly, it didn’t end at the final whistle.

After the match, the highly emotional Wednesday manager Jones, plainly trembling with anger and resentment, was asked about the condition of his goalkeeper Kirkland. Somewhat surprisingly, Jones paid little heed to this enquiry beyond acknowledging that the boy was shaken and claiming it had hindered his team from seeking a winning goal. He seemed far more concerned by the verbal abuse he had suffered, than by the physical attack on his goalkeeper. In an unrestrained on-camera performance, he castigated the Leeds fans, comparing their behaviour to “racism”, taking Leeds manager Neil Warnock to task for praising the fans’ support of the United team and ending by saying that the Leeds fans were “vile animals. All of them.” Warnock seemed bemused by such an outburst, shrugging it off, doubtless aware from experience that immediately after a match is not an ideal time for rational thought and reflection. Jones was quite specific, not to say selective in his attentions; he did not refer to the taunting of the Leeds fans by the Sheffield crowd over the Istanbul murders.

Because of the short time lapse between these shoddy events and the subsequent attack in Sheffield on Mr Ismail, the question has to arise: how much of what was said may have been in the minds of the protagonists on that fateful and ultimately tragic night? It is understood that Richard Ismail was out for the evening with his partner, and that his clothing identified him as a Leeds United fan. Or, let us not forget, as a “vile animal” in the minds of any Sheffield Wednesday fans daft enough, bone-headedly crazy enough, to have taken seriously what their club’s manager had said only a matter of weeks before.

Did those intemperate words still ring in the attackers’ heads? Were they, in their own warped minds, taking action against a “vile animal”? Did they, just possibly, feel that they were meting out some summary rough justice to a person identifiable with the fans who had taunted their own Mr Jones just the previous month? Who knows what goes through a thug’s head as he swings into action with like-minded accomplices, encouraged at outnumbering a lone target who is on a night out with his partner? But the question has to arise: if Mr Jones had been more circumspect in his remarks – or if, perhaps, a more decent interval had been allowed to elapse before any interview, to allow emotions to subside a little – might things not, just possibly, have turned out differently? Might this tragic episode possibly have been avoided?

It is, of course, impossible to say. But the factors are all there for anyone looking for any kind of cause and effect scenario – just as the lesson is there to be learned about thinking before you speak, and refraining at all costs from going on camera, to an audience of millions, and saying things that are unwise; things that are far too inclusive; not, in short, the kind of things a level-headed professional really wants to be caught on the spot saying. I remember being taken aback and more than a little shocked at the emotional vehemence of Jones’ performance in the post-match interview. It just seemed so disproportionate, so incongruous in someone who had been a professional in football and in the sphere of social care for many years; fair enough, he’d taken dog’s abuse over a matter that should have had a line drawn under it years before. But sadly, these things happen – whenever crowds gather and alcohol has been consumed. Sets of fans will go all out to bait each other, and they will raise the stakes in retaliation. It’s not nice, but it’s far from unknown – and it’s part of the cross a football manager, or indeed many other professionals in different areas of public life, just have to bear. That’s part of the reason they’re lavishly paid, part of the reason that it’s the tougher personalities that take these kind of jobs. And really – wasn’t there some sort of support for Jones, from within the Sheffield Wednesday club? He looked in need of it.

Still, Mr Jones didn’t appear inclined to withdraw his remarks even days later, although he did qualify them somewhat. But by then, any possible damage had already been done. The internet was buzzing, you heard about “vile animals” everywhere. Some Leeds fans took it as a perverse badge of honour, others were more than a little annoyed and offended. This latter group would post pictures of their cherubically cute 7 year old boy or girl in a mini Leeds shirt, asking “is this a vile animal, Mr Jones?” Feelings ran very high for quite some time afterwards, and I can’t get out of my head the possibility that they might still have been running high enough, a few short weeks later, to have been a factor in turning what should have been a family night out into an ordeal of over a year, ending in the untimely death of a man who had done nothing wrong.

I don’t know if Mr Jones’ thoughts have run along these lines, or – if they have – whether he’s admitted to himself that he could have applied a little more self-control, been a little less all-embracingly condemnatory of ALL Leeds United fans – every one of them. Because, in saying something like that, you just never know what notion you might plant in the pea-brain of some self-righteous moron who wants then to take revenge. And from there, it’s impossible to say what might happen. All we know is what did happen, and we know what was said – so publicly – just a short time before. Whether there was a relationship between the one and the other will be impossible to prove – but the sad fact is that there could have been. And if that doesn’t make the case for a bit more thought about the timing and content of these emotional post-match interviews, then I don’t know what does. It is now being speculated that the forthcoming meeting of the two clubs at Hillsborough in January – a game that will also be live on Sky TV – will be played out in an atmosphere even uglier than last year’s malevolent brew – if such a thing were possible. Given Jones’ currently-precarious position at Sheffield Wednesday, it’s difficult to say with any degree of certainty whether he will still be in his job by then. Perhaps it really would be for the best if he’s gone.

What seems clear enough to me is that, when considering what led up to Mr Ismail’s tragic fate, it’s not possible to view David Jones’ heat-of-the-moment remarks purely in isolation. You throw a stone, and out spread the ripples, inevitably, unstoppably. If you speak on camera to thousands or millions, it behoves you to keep a check on what you say, and to bear in mind that your words will be interpreted in a variety of different ways, by a variety of different people, some more literal-minded than others. And, given that – when there’s a rabble out there eager to be roused – it’s just not worth the risk to let off steam to that extent. An event like Moody’s death puts starkly into context issues such as name-calling and the temporary catharsis offered by a hasty rant on camera. Maybe, in time, Mr Jones and others can reflect on the implications of what was said and what was done in Sheffield just over a year ago.

Richard Ismail “Moody” 1968-2013 RIP MOT

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Posted in Football, Leeds United

Tagged assault, David Jones, death, Leeds United, Moody, murder, post-match interview, Richard Ismail, Sheffield Wednesday, Sky TV, Vile Animals

Happy Days Are Here Again – Bring On the New Season!

Posted on 30/06/2013 | Leave a comment

Good Riddance, Taggart

The best football season since the mid-eighties (apart from 1991-92, obviously) is almost upon us. Despite the recession, austerity, bankers bonuses and the scandalous price of a pint, I’ve rarely felt so positive and optimistic about the immediate future. Even the fact that Leeds United are crap, and will almost certainly remain crap despite the best efforts of poor old Brian McDermott, my outlook is one of sunny anticipation and excitement for the feast of football that awaits my tired and cynical old eyes. And why? I’ll tell you why. It’s because Fergie’s gone, that’s why. Say it again and say it with relish. Fergie. Is. GONE.

Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t his annoying habit of winning things for the Mighty Man U that bothered me. It wasn’t his oft-paraded bloody stop-watch held up as a mute instruction to the ref regarding time-keeping. It wasn’t even his arrogance over whether he chose to adhere to various rules which bound other managers, things like press interviews, his notorious BBC ban, stuff like that. The fact that he clearly considered himself above mere rules was irritating, but not on its own the reason why I loathed him so much. It was none of these things in isolation. And after all, when he lost it was such a pleasure. Thank you Leeds in ’92, Blackburn in ’95, City in ’12 and a few others. But it didn’t happen often enough, and really, he was almost as horrific in defeat as he was in – shudder – triumph.

The real problem with Fergie was the sheer, all-round, ever-present, all-pervading unpleasantness of the man. His particular brand of arrogant Glaswegian gittery and the way in which he held sway over the entire game and media too – the whole Fergie package – that’s what got my goat. Whoever we support, we’ll have had managers who crossed the line in this or that respect, and made you see why fans of other clubs regarded them as less than nice. But Ferguson exceeded all these limits, most of the time – and not in a good way. Comical defeats apart, I really can’t think of a solitary redeeming feature. If I absolutely HAD to put my finger on one thing that annoyed me above all else – it was the demeanour of the man when he was happy, when he’d just won or when Man U had scored a goal. Sadly, these events happened all too often, and the results were always utterly repellent. When the Mighty Reds scored, there he’d be, emerging from his dug-out in that annoying daft old man shuffle, fists clenched and waving in uncoordinated celebration, casting a glance of odious triumphalism at the sullen members of the opposition coaching staff, champing away happily on his ever-present wad of gum while his nose throbbed an ugly shade of victorious purple. A most unpleasant sight.

Happily though, it is one we shall behold no more. Fergie has retired upstairs, where his baleful presence need be of concern only to the inheritor of the poisoned chalice, David Moyes Esq. Moyes may wish to cast his mind back 43 years to the effect a newly-retired but still-powerful-in-the-background Busby had on HIS successor. But that is his problem. All we need wish is that an early and unceremonious exit for Moyes – should he fail – isn’t a signal for the caretaker return of the Govan Guv’nor, just when we all thought that nightmare was over. Perish the thought.

So I’m really looking forward to a Fergie-less season, and even to the slight bewilderment of the assembled media, who will be wondering where to brown-nose, who to target for their obsequious flattery. Again, their bereft sadness is not my problem. I’m just going to enjoy the football scene as it will appear to me – bright and shiny, replete with promise and optimism after the removal of that horrible, nasty man. Man U will be that bit more difficult to hate, with the really-quite-likeable Moyes in charge, however long that lasts. But I’ll manage, it’s in my DNA as a fan of the One True United after all. And Mourinho is back, and Wenger is still there – men you can’t help but respect and admire. It’s going to be a good season in the Premier League, something I can really enjoy for once, whatever my beloved Leeds United do to screw things up one division lower.

And it’s all thanks to That Man finally being gone. Hallelujah!!

Murdoch to Hammer Another Nail Into Football’s Coffin?

Posted on 16/06/2013 | Leave a comment

Uncle Rupert

News is emerging that Rupert Murdoch may be about to unveil a “Summer Super League” plan for football, whereby 16 “elite” clubs would compete in a league-type competition throughout the traditional European close season. Matches would be played in cities around the world in a transparent move to open up new markets and further popularise the Sky/Murdoch brand before an international audience possibly running to billions.

The drawbacks to such a plan spring readily to mind. There is an obvious issue around the physical and mental demands upon players who might now be called upon to perform without a break in the whole calendar year. That is, assuming that the players involved would be the senior players of the “elite” clubs envisaged as making up this league; but that does seem a fair assumption. It is hardly likely that a project like this would have the necessary appeal and marketability if the competing teams were to field development squads – stars would be a pre-requisite for success.

What, then would be the impact on existing competitions? It would be easy to imagine that the effect on, say, domestic cups could be quite shattering. We’ve already had the precedent of Man U withdrawing from the FA Cup one season for some money-making prestige junket to South America where they competed for a version of the World Club Championship, and predictably sank without trace. If the likes of Man U, Man City, Chelsea and Arsenal were to be invited (as they most certainly would be) to compete in Murdoch’s latest commercial fandango, then we could quite probably predict that – at the very least – the FA Cup, and certainly the League Cup would slide yet further down the priority list for these in-demand clubs. Already we see shadow squads competing for the League Cup, it wouldn’t be a surprise to see withdrawals from that competition, and the treatment of the FA Cup as a proving ground for promising younger players. It would be the eager crowds in the Far East, Australia, the USA and the Middle East who would have the pleasure of seeing the Premier League’s major talents performing in the flesh.

The question also arises: what of the World Cup, and the slightly lesser competitions held on individual continents? Would FIFA be prepared to take on Murdoch and his increasingly omnipresent empire? The days when domestic cup competitions caused a thrill of excitement and a sense of occasion are already receding into golden memory. Will the same happen to the four-yearly cycle of the greatest international tournament of them all? It’s not impossible; and if it were to happen, we’d know what to blame – the three M’s. Murdoch, Money and Markets.

The time is fast approaching when Football as we know it will be in sore need of rescue by seemingly the only people left who actually care enough to want to preserve its proud history and tradition: the fans. Obviously, I mean those of us who are old enough to remember the game’s great days, before Murdoch got his talons on it; when you stood on a packed terrace and sampled an incomparable atmosphere as you cheered on your favourites for under a pound and moaned mightily when that went up to £1.50. When the only games shown live on the box were really big ones, Cup Finals, major International games, European nights and maybe the odd smattering of League games here and there. Those were the days when you would have laughed out loud at any suggestion that one day you might be asked to fork out £60 a month for “entertainment” which might include Norwich v Wigan on a Monday evening.

That’s the reality we have now, and it’s scary to look ahead and see how much more our game might change now that Uncle Rupert has had this spiffy new idea. He’ll want to make sure his audiences have their entertainment in a way that doesn’t put undue strain on their attention-spans, and allows enough time to sell, sell, sell in those commercial breaks. Didn’t someone once have a great idea about playing four quarters instead of two halves? What about time-outs? Why bother with boring draws, can’t we have an exciting shoot-out?

If you doubt things might actually go down that road – just cast your mind back 25 years, and see if you could have imagined then the kind of game we have to watch today, and ask yourself: couldn’t it maybe happen? Aren’t we in real danger of losing the last vestiges of the game we used to know and love? And isn’t it maybe time to think just what the hell we can do about it?

Where’s That Sick-bag?

Posted on 12/05/2013 | 1 comment

A Sickeningly Solemn Moment

Ladies and gentlemen, if you have sick-bags to fill, prepare to fill them now. If sugary treacle and soft-sawder syrup is your thing, get ready to drown in the stuff. “Sir” Alex Ferguson is departing the stage, and there won’t be a dry seat in the house. Sky TV are preparing for an extended weepathon as their hero who hated them, their idol who despised them, climbs down unsteadily from his throne of purchased glory and totters off upstairs to chew gum and glower balefully down at his hapless successor David Moyes.

This afternoon’s live TV offering has a delicately-scripted path to follow. There will be a soft-focus montage of many of the Purple-Nosed One’s finest moments – Steve Bruce’s 98th minute winner against Sheffield Wednesday to a background of Martin Tyler’s shrieking climax as Man U all but clinched their first plastic Title. Giggsy-Wiggsy’s finest FA Cup goal of all time as the Arsenal defence parted like the Red Sea and we were treated to an unsolicited view of the Husband of the Year’s chest-rug. A selection of van Persie’s catalogue of sublime finishes from the Dutchman’s “One Man Title-Winning Season” collection. It is doubtful however that Eric Cantona’s exposition of martial-arts skills from his South London Show of 1995 will make the cut.

After the moonlight and roses video softener has set the correct ambiance, and armchairs all over Devon and Cornwall are already bedewed with manly tears, we may have an actual interview with the dearly-lamented Departing One. Subtitles will be provided for this section of proceedings, and yet it won’t so much be what He says, but more the way He says it. As an example, if you hear a glottal noise along the lines of “Thiznaequayshtyunabootthaaaaat” it means that S’ralex is saying something he wishes you to accept as undisputed fact. This happens a lot. But those craggy and broken-veined features of pasty pink splotched with purple may at some point break into a grimace not unadjacent to a smile, and this will be the cue for the suits in the Sky Studio to howl with unrestrained emotion as the tears flow anew. It’s going to be a harrowing afternoon, and we’re nowhere near kick-off yet.

At some point we will have testimony from a group of the usual suspects as to the essential saintliness and unmatchable achievements of the man. Lou Macari, Paddy Crerand, Peter Schmeichel, Steve Bruce, Bryan Robson and other such neutral witnesses will speak their lines to camera with all the sincerity and conviction of a tailor’s dummy. Ron Atkinson and Tommy Docherty may even appear if time permits, and attempt to mask their burning resentment at being consigned to the dustbin of history with a few clamp-jawed soundbites of faux admiration, before shambling off, clutching Mr Murdoch’s fat cheque.

And then, the game. It has been thoughtfully arranged that the final day opponents at the Theatre of Hollow Myths should be a footballing side of attacking ambitions. The script will call for them to make pretty patterns in midfield whilst offering no great threat to Man U’s rocky defence, where Phil Jones will be frantically gurning in an attempt to frighten off any Swansea attacker who dares venture too close. At regular intervals, an uncharacteristically misplaced pass from the away team bit-part players will gift possession to Man U, who will then – according to the stage directions – “swoop to score another magnificent goal for the Champions.” Ecstasy will ensue in the stands and the commentary box, and flowers will be thrown at the feet of the gum-chewing Govan Guv’nor as he performs that annoying little staggery old man’s dance from under the dug-out canopy, champing away in a Wrigley’s rictus of triumph. It is an image that will be burned on the retinas of a whole football-supporting generation.

After the match – whatever time that might be depending upon how long it takes Man U to score The Winner – we shall have post-game interviews, more video footage to the accompaniment of weeping strings and synth, rambling reminiscence from the assembled sycophants – and maybe a final word from the abdicating Emperor himself, who will remind us, via an interpreter, that there’s “aye anither game tae go yet, by the waaaaay.” And the crowds will sigh and depart for all points south, the lights will go out at the Theatre of Hollow Myths and the scene will gradually darken as a rainy Salford day fades into the night, as we all must sooner or later. All that has been missing is the trademark Lone Piper, but he is reserved for even more solemn occasions, and his time is not yet.

And so it will be over. It will be time for the Sky suits to heave a gigantic, shuddering sigh signifying end-of-an-era grief and regret, and then they must reluctantly move on. A new hero awaits, and he’s sadly lacking as yet in the trappings of success and the aura that the commercially-aware would wish for him. A project is to hand now that S’ralex has faded into the sunset, and that project is the reinvention of an Honest Pro into a Demigod, the Greatest Manager Of All, for such is the requirement of the twinned Hyperbole Departments of Sky and Man U for the unsuspecting Mr Moyes. It’s a work in progress even now, but the momentum will gather as the new season approaches and the threat of upstarts such as Chelsea. Arsenal, Man City and even Liverpool, which has to be repelled for another year. It will need to be business as usual, even without the Blessed Fergie. Life goes on, and today was merely the schmaltzy climax to the long-running soap-opera which was Man U under S’ralex. It’s time to dry the tears and count the money.

Now where IS that sick-bag?