Tag Archives: Victory

By Goom, Sum Leeds Fans are Proper ‘Ard to Please, Sithee!! – by Rob Atkinson

Posted on 11/07/2014 | 60 comments

What’s the point of winning 16-0?? Waaaahhh!!

On July 10th in Italy, Leeds United stepped up their pre-season preparations by moving on to an actual game against opposition from outside the club – as opposed to doing the hard yards in training and playing practice matches within the squad. It’s a natural progression – it makes sense to start with a gentle work-out against a team that, perhaps, won’t provide the stiffest test. The game went well, two distinct United teams getting a 45-minute run-out apiece – and Leeds won by the unlikely score of 16-0, beating their previous best pre-season success by one. The players seemed to fight shy of scoring that 17th goal which might have caused the superstitious side of the owner’s nature to twitch spasmodically. It’s best to keep on the right side of Big Mass, my friend. But you have to say that this type of game is a worthwhile exercise at this stage of pre-season. As a means of getting into a match situation and preparing for sterner opposition later on, it’s ideal. Isn’t it?

Well, you wouldn’t think so, from some of the social media reaction. To read some of the comments from certain alleged Leeds fans, you’d think that Leeds United had broken into their homes and beaten up their apple-cheeked, silver-haired old Grandma, rather than comfortably winning a football match. There was an air of offended outrage very much in evidence. Some people, it would seem, feel distinctly happier when we’re losing – as, for instance we did at Harrogate Town last pre-season, or famously at Histon in the FA Cup a few years back. A 16-0 defeat would presumably have had these characters smiling happily – but a victory by that score opened up the floodgates for a tide of whinging and bitching from the kind of fans who would, quite frankly, feel more at home over the wrong side o’ t’hills, at the Theatre of Hollow Myths.

So what is it about certain Leeds United fans, that makes them react in this unhelpful and frankly irritating way? Is it a need to affect a certain world-weary, windswept and interesting, ostentatiously cynical attitude, in the hope that people will think they’re more complex and profound than they actually are? Do they perhaps feel compelled to act in a certain way in order to impress others? Certainly this type of reaction is typical of the sort of person, generally young, a bit stupid and desperate for attention, who feels the need to inflict their callow opinions on Facebook, Twitter et al. Some of the dafter Leeds United internet boards are likewise infested with these yappy types, falling over themselves to outdo the previous poster for “wit” or what they might see as a “cool” determination to approve of nothing, to criticise and carp on about everything. The abysmal WACCOE and the absurd Service Crew Forum are good examples of the type of “Go on, try to impress me” churl of a supporter, who hasn’t the first idea of what support actually means. It’s always a sad day for this type when there is some undeniably good news. After all, it’s so uncool to be happy and positive – isn’t it?

Sod off and listen to the Smiths, or Leonard Cohen – or go and support the Pride of Devon, why don’t you. At least those of us who are open to the possibility of a new era at Leeds United would be spared your formulaic whinging and clueless rants. And, next time Leeds United manage to win a game 16-0, could we perhaps expect a bit more in the way of originality from you? You know – a little less of the “Oh, were we playing the blind school?? Haw, haw, haw”. At times like this, Twitter seems to be exclusively about daft little prats recycling weak humour with a genuine belief that they’ll somehow get some credit for it.

I blame the parents. No, on reflection, I don’t – not entirely. I really blame the proliferation of social media, providing as it does an easy option, for dumb, idle, yap-mouthed kids with too much time on their hands, to create a sort of wall of white noise, preventing the rest of us from being able to have anything like a meaningful conversation or productive discussion. Yes, that’s what I blame. AND the bloody parents.

Roll on the next game and, with all due respect to Big Mass and his weird beliefs, I hope we win this one 17-0. We won’t, of course – because we’ll be playing a much better team, one that doesn’t need to borrow our goalie near the end just to keep the score down. But I do hope we keep the hammer down and win well. Because there’s nothing that upsets the kind of Leeds fan I’m railing against, more than a good, solid Leeds United win. The sort of win that used to be the whole point of being a fan – remember that?

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Posted in Football, Leeds United

Tagged clueless, friendly match, Leeds United, negative fans, pre-season, Service Crew Forum, Victory, WACCOE, whinging

Can Olympic Champion Murray Mint Himself a Wimbledon Winner’s Medal at Last?

Posted on 05/07/2013 | Leave a comment

Two breathtaking, heart-quaking performances in this week’s Wimbledon quarter and semi-finals have seen British No. 1 Andy Murray through to the Final on Sunday, a progression many foretold from the start of the tournament, and all the more so following the early exit of both Federer and Nadal. That formidable pair had loomed threateningly at the start of the Wimbledon Fortnight, promising to be Murray’s nemesis as they had each been on far too many previous occasions. Their obliging co-operation in bowing out before any such calamity could strike has kept alive the dream of so many British tennis aficionados who have been yearning for a lifetime to see a British lad lift that famous trophy aloft.

Up to last year’s Final, Murray had been regarded by many with a sort of grudging respect which rarely if ever amounted to actual affection. His slight tendency to taciturnity and the odd throwaway remark about his non-support of the England football team apparently did not endear him to many fireside patriots. In the pubs and front rooms nationwide, as well as on the internet, you’d see many actively hoping for an early exit for our only hope of ultimate glory. Whether or not any of this was fair, it changed radically in a few tear-stained moments after Murray’s Final defeat to Roger Federer last summer. Trying manfully to fulfill his after-match obligation to speak to the crowd, Murray choked up with genuine emotion and palpable distress – and the stony old heart of England melted in a trice. That iconic moment, together with the somewhat more relaxed and natural demeanour Murray displays since his happy partnership with coach Ivan Lendl began, seems to have converted the majority of the nation into supporters of our Andy. My wife, who is usually the best example of any feminine trait you might care to name, typified this sea-change. She was a committed disciple before Murray’s first handkerchief was properly bedewed with manly tears, a complete volte-face from her position a mere few moments before when she had been relishing the Scot’s impending defeat. Women, eh?

The thing is though, it’s not just the women. Many blokes of my acquaintance and further afield – really, quite blokey blokes – now display positive support for Murray, and wish him well. Apparently a few raw emotions, wrung from a stoic by the agony of defeat, can seduce even the proud male of the species. I was a fan before, so I can’t really comment on the phenomenon, other than to observe that it has happened, and maybe just in time to stop the nation scowling sulkily at his ultimate triumph.

After last year’s Wimbledon, and the tears, Murray returned to the same venue shortly afterwards and carried off the Olympic Gold Medal, thrashing Federer in straight sets in a Final that he had reached – interestingly – via his only grass court meeting with Djokovic, his opponent on Sunday. This also was a straight sets triumph. An omen there, we may hope? A first Grand Slam triumph followed too, with victory at the US Open where he beat Djokovic in the final. Another omen? Murray is now very much “our lad” as he heads for his second consecutive Wimbledon Final on Sunday, and the vast majority will wish him success.

Murray can certainly seal himself in the affections of the nation for good this weekend. His demeanour on-court, and in his dealings with the press, still attracts criticism in certain quarters, but those people should remember that tennis is a game played, more than many others, in the head – the mental demands of a war of attrition over the best of five sets are gruelling at the best of times. Murray will have learned from last year’s experience, and it seems likely that after his slightly less demanding semi-final, as compared to his quarter, or indeed to the epic semi that Djokovic had to weather, he should be in prime nick, both physically and mentally. He’ll certainly need to be in order to beat the World No 1 again, and he’ll be aware too that in order to create further history, he now simply has to win the crown. Last year, he wrote himself a page in the annals of British tennis just by reaching the final. Now it’s time to take that last, decisive step.

Good luck, Andy Murray – we’re almost all right behind you.

Memory Match No. 3: Leeds United 3, Man U 1. 24.12.1995

Posted on 02/03/2013 | Leave a comment

1995-96 was the last full season of Sergeant Wilko’s eventful reign at Elland Road. His influence over the club was crumbling amid rumours of money problems, takeovers and dressing-room discontent, a tale that would doubtless strike a chord with Messrs. Grayson and Warnock of more recent vintage. This was a season that had started off with a flurry of Tony Yeboah thunderbolts and some impressive results and performances which appeared to promise much. Sadly though, it would peter out in a shocking late-season run following a League Cup Final humiliation at Wembley, courtesy of Aston Villa. Howard Wilkinson was a dead man walking from that time on.

Worrying signs of defensive frailty and general ineptitude had been all too obvious just the previous week at Hillsborough. United had succumbed spinelessly to a 6-2 defeat at the hands of an unremarkable Sheffield Wednesday side and – all bravado aside – there wasn’t much optimism in the hearts of the faithful as this fixture against the arch-enemy loomed.

It was certainly a different Christmas Eve for me. I hadn’t exactly led a sheltered life up to that point, but this was the first time – and the last, to date – I’d ever risen the day before Christmas to bacon sandwiches at 6 am, closely followed by numerous Budweisers with the Sunday papers in a fan-friendly pub, as we waited for our “Scum Match Special” mini-bus. The queasy feeling before any match against “Them” was therefore multiplied by unaccustomed early-morning grease and alcohol, and I was feeling several shades of not-too-good as we set off for Elland Road. It was an 11:30 kick-off, live on Sky, and it promised either to make or break the whole of Christmas for us fans, and for our hopeful families.

The situation between the Uniteds of Leeds and Salford is one of a legendary mutual animosity, even at the best of times. Let’s not mince words here, the two sets of fans hate loathe and detest each other, and open warfare is the norm. Revisionist football pundits would have us believe that this is strictly a one-way affair, but you only have to tune into one of Sky’s glitzy live TV love-ins for a Man U match, and whoever they are playing, our Home-Counties friends are in full voice with their “We all hate Leeds scum”. Even Alex Ferguson, the Red Devils’ not-altogether-likeable manager, makes no bones about it; some of his more coherent sound bites feature his opinion that Elland Road is “the most intimidating arena in Europe”. He’s also stated that going to Liverpool is nowhere near as bad as going to Leeds; clearly, he’s never been for a late-night pint in Old Swan or Dodge City.

So, Yuletide or not, the usual poisonous atmosphere was in evidence as the two teams walked out before a 39801 crowd that overcast morning. Just as Leeds were smarting from their Hillsborough debacle, so Man U were struggling to emerge from a poor run, winless for a month and dispatched by Liverpool the previous week. This seasonal fixture was a chance of redemption for both sides.

Macca slots the penalty home

By kick-off time, I was starting to feel properly ill, and in dire need of a pick-me-up. This arrived in a most unlikely form after a mere five minutes, when a Leeds corner swung over from the right. Richard Jobson rose on the edge of the area to head towards goal, where David Wetherall, lethal against Man U in the past, was challenging for a decisive touch. But that touch came instead from the upraised, red-sleeved arm of Nicky Butt – and referee Dermot Gallagher’s whistle sounded for a penalty.

Peering from the Kop at the other end of the ground, through an alcoholic fug, I could hardly believe my eyes. Leeds just didn’t get penalties against “Them”. It would happen the other way around alright, too often, and even from three yards outside the area but this was unprecedented, since our Title-winning year anyway. Steve Bruce evidently thought it was just too much to bear, and screamed his violent protests into Gallagher’s face, having to be restrained by Gary MacAllister, who appeared to be trying to explain the rules to the furious defender. The guilty look on Butt’s face, though, spoke volumes. MacAllister placed the ball on the spot, and sent it sweetly into the top right corner for 1-0, giving Peter Schmeichel not even the ghost of a chance. The celebrations were raucous and deafening as the Elland Road cauldron exploded with joy – and inside my skull, the trip-hammer of a beer-fuelled headache pounded away anew, utterly failing though to banish my smile of delight.

Leeds had the bit between their teeth now, and Brian Deane was suddenly clear for an instant outside the right corner of the Man U penalty area, played in by a cute pass from Carlton Palmer. Schmeichel was out swiftly to smother the chance, but Deane managed to dink the ball over him, only for it to clip the crossbar and bounce away to safety. A two-goal lead at that stage would have felt unlikely yet deserved, as Leeds United had been on the front foot right from the off. Soon, though, a lesson was to be delivered about what happens when you miss chances against this lot.

The unlikely culprit as Leeds were pegged back was Gary Speed. Receiving the ball in the left-back position, he tried to beat Butt instead of clearing long, and was robbed of possession. Butt looked up, and placed a neat pass inside to Andy Cole, whose efficient first-time finish levelled the match. Suddenly, my headache was even worse, and I was starting to wonder about the fate of my breakfast too. Time for another reviving injection of optimism as Leeds surged forward, and Speed so nearly made up for his defensive error, playing a one-two with Tomas Brolin which gave him space to put in a right-foot shot that went narrowly wide.

Yeboah beats Schmeichel for the second goal

The game had settled down by this time, and both sides were showing enough ambition to feel that they were in with a chance of victory. Leeds though had thrown off their Sheffield blues, and attacked with verve and purpose. Now, a defensive position was coolly handled by Gary Kelly, finding the time and space to launch a long clearance forward, where Brolin headed on. The ball was loose, and surely meat and drink for Man U’s international defender Paul Parker – but he inexplicably let it bounce over his foot. Yeboah pounced on it like a hound on a rat, and he was away, surging towards goal with ex-Leeds defender Denis Irwin backing off. Yeboah in this mood was usually irresistible, and sure enough none of Irwin’s careful jockeying could prevent him from finding that vital half-yard of space. The gap appeared, Schmeichel came out to block, and Yeboah clipped the ball sumptuously just out of the Danish ‘keeper’s reach, up and over to nestle in the far corner of the South Stand net.

Again, that explosion of noise and joy, again my fragile system was assailed by the rough-and-tumble of riotous celebration. 2-1 up against the team we loved to hate; the cockneys at the far end were suddenly silent and morose. “You’re not singing anymore!” we blasted at them, and indeed, little would be heard from the away fans for the rest of the game.

Brian Deane makes it 3

The second half was another tale of give and take, both sides able to cause trouble up front, but both seemingly capable of dealing with all that was thrown at them. The onus was on Man U to retrieve a losing situation, but Leeds were rarely in great trouble, and as the game entered its final quarter there was unprecedented optimism that we could close this one out, and enter Christmas on a real high. Leeds weren’t simply sitting back and absorbing pressure – and the maxim of attack being the best form of defence was to serve them well. On 73 minutes, Jobson made a foray down the left, and was fouled by Cole chasing back. The resulting free-kick was played to MacAllister in space in the middle of the park, and he swiftly moved it out to the right wing. Brolin picked up possession, and then slipped the ball to the overlapping Palmer, who surged into the box, and then turned past Irwin to set up Brolin again on the edge of the area. The much-maligned Swede, making the contribution I best remember him for, chipped the ball sweetly first-time, standing it up just around the penalty spot, where Deane’s exemplary movement had won him the space to rise and plant a firm header past a helpless Schmeichel into the net. 3-1 and finis.

After the game, and before the Yuletide celebrations could begin in earnest, other traditions had to be observed. Ferguson, naturally, had to moan about the penalty. “It was a very surprising decision, given in circumstances that were beyond me.” whinged the Purple-nosed One, in evident ignorance of the deliberate handball provisions – but perhaps aiming to justify Bruce’s undignified and almost psychotic protest at the time. And the massed ranks of the Kop Choir had to regale the departing Man U fans with victory taunts as they sulked away, silent and crestfallen, headed for all points south.

I can’t remember the journey home, or even how spectacularly ill I was when I got there, although I’m told I was the picture of ecstatic yet grossly hung-over ebullience. I just know it was my happiest Christmas Eve ever, ensuring a deliriously festive spirit for the whole holiday, much to the delight of my long-suffering wife and two-year-old daughter.

Merry Christmas, everybody! And God bless us, every one. Except Them, from There.

Next: Memory Match No. 4: Leeds United 4, Derby County 3. 1997-98 included a purple patch for Leeds United, and a series of “comeback wins”. Perhaps the best was this recovery from 3-0 down at Elland Road against the Rams.