Is football enough fun to last?
Despite Angus Kinnear's assurances that everything is fine, he couldn't offer any optimism as a result, because football doesn't work that way anymore.
Despite Angus Kinnear's assurances that everything is fine, he couldn't offer any optimism as a result, because football doesn't work that way anymore.
Alan Smith did play for twenty seasons, but only six were for his hometown club, and like so much of the Ridsdale and O'Leary years, he left more questions than answers about what might have been made of everything Leeds, and Smith, had going for them.
Let's catch up with our favourite pigskin guys as they get hitting those pucks for some big homers this fall.
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.