Football is from the players
I would have welcomed Sol Bamba as the chairman of Leeds United, and not just because he was a lovely guy with a solid baseline of decency. But because he was a player, a footballer.
I would have welcomed Sol Bamba as the chairman of Leeds United, and not just because he was a lovely guy with a solid baseline of decency. But because he was a player, a footballer.
Sol Bamba, on his way out, was taking more responsibility for the club he was leaving than any of the people who actually held responsibility for it.
Gazza? Maradona? Farke, mate, you would have loved Bill Fotherby. But we need to avoid letting the idea of a no.10 become a white whale, chasing an obsession while losing a season to the assumption that no no.10 equals no creativity.
Outsiders might ask what the fun would be having a Premier League ready squad in the Championship and winning it by Easter while breaking records on easy mode. Leeds fans would answer that you shouldn't knock it until you've tried it.
Marauding forward from left-back in the no.11 shirt, firing spectacular shots from long range, it always felt like the next game would be his game.
The ref might have been tempted to follow Daniel Farke around with his card ready if smug eyebrows were against the rules of the game.
The advantage fans have is that everything in football, whether it's comms or money or community, must ultimately be expressed with high visibility on grass.
Eddie Gray thought he could be the best right-back Leeds United ever had, but Leeds and Alan Maybury couldn't make a chance for each other.
Maybe Daniel Farke got what he wanted from this game, but in that case, why did he want these things? Sometimes what is deemed best for the football team and its players and manager is not what is best for the football club and its fans.
Things may not actually be that bad. But they're bad enough to have me thinking about Peter Ridsdale, Professor McKenzie, Ken Bates and the parallels. So that is bad enough.