Sometimes God puts things in the right place, and sometimes Kalvin Phillips plays for Manchester City

There are plenty of memories to choose from Kalvin Phillips' time at Leeds United, many of them related to his transformation under Marcelo Bielsa, or into an England star, a documentary star, a Dua Lipa guest, a picture on a wall next to Lucas Radebe and Albert Johanneson. Some are less about a change, more about a blossoming, as his personality grew from his roots. Some are near misses, like his shot that went inches wide in extra-time of the final of Euro 2020 when he nearly won the bloody thing for England, and like what could have been in his future at Leeds.

Whenever I try to think about Phillips in retrospect, though, my mind bumps up against April 2017, when Leeds under Garry Monk had looked unexpectedly interested in promotion from the Championship, but were going through the familiar routine of letting success elude them. A match at Burton Albion was so important, and their ground so tiny, that a beamback was put on in Billy's Bar at Elland Road, so fans wouldn't miss a game that was disappointing despite being typical. United lost 2-1, all but ending their hopes of the play-offs, and one fan in Billy's was sure who was to blame. They'd been screaming 'Fuck off Phillips!' at the televisions since the first half, to a general murmuring of emboldening approval. The ante was upped at times when Phillips actually did something bad. 'Fuck off and die!'

Patience with Phillips was wearing thin among Leeds fans, and there was still another full season to play before Bielsa came. Looking at how good Phillips became, we can see more clearly the barriers to his progress. He was a late arrival at the academy, not one picked for stardom at six. He made his debut for Neil Redfearn at a time when Redders had fewer resources to run the first team than he had for the juniors. Steve Evans signed Toumani Diagouraga and Liam Bridcutt and kept Phillips on the bench. Under Monk he shared midfield starts with Bridcutt, Eunan O'Kane and Ronaldo Vieira, combinations that were either inexperienced or lightweight. Thomas Christiansen took a closer interest in him, working on his diet — chocolate cake became a treat after a win over Middlesbrough — and trying him as an attacking midfielder (Christiansen asked a lot of the right questions, but didn't find the right answers). Then came Paul Heckingbottom and the general slowdown, when the whole team looked either stuck with glue or about to keel over from sniffing it. The liveliest thing on the pitch at that time was Phillips' adventurous new hairstyle, for the growth of which he was told, by a large number of fans, to fuck off.

During those seasons Phillips was surfing the difficult tides that either carry players out of Leeds United's academy to become a hero or throw them against the rocks. Being a Leeds raised Leeds lad playing for Leeds defined him as great in the end, but for a while he stood accused of using all that as a shield, his passion eliciting sympathy that was taking the place of ability. Fans can turn quite quickly from wanting a local lad to do well, to feeling like if a player wasn't local, they wouldn't be getting such an easy ride. The truth is actually the opposite and those views reveal it: few players get such a hard time from their own fans as players who have come through the Academy but outstayed their initial welcome. Perhaps we learn about these guys too young. By the time they're 22, if they're not worldbeaters, they're timewasters.

All this feels relevant now because the last link holding Kalvin Phillips to Leeds United was loyalty, and that chain has been broken by his move to Manchester. In cold football terms everything else about the transfer is irresistible for Phillips. He's about to spend the peak years of his career working every day with one of the best coaches in world football history, with some of the best players, at incredible facilities, earning fabulous amounts of money to play in a team that will be competing for and likely winning the Premier League, and competing for and likely not winning the Champions League (they always mess that up, it's hilarious). Very few clubs can offer that to a player, so those clubs only offer it to the very best players. All the cake-resistance Kalvin has built up since the Christiansen days is paying off for him in an opportunity any young footballer dreams will come their way. The single and only entry in the 'don't go' column is that, being from Wortley from a family of devoted fans, perhaps he would rather play for Leeds United. He would not. So, fuck him then.

Or not. Because this is all about what loyalty is worth, and while Phillips' loyalty to Leeds has a price that City's offer has exceeded, we can't pretend the fans' loyalty doesn't have its own price, namely, that players have to be really good to get it. Fans are never loyal to the shit players. Being local won't protect you from fans screaming 'Fuck off and die!' when you come on the telly if the team aren't winning, or from online tirades about your hair from people who still think Boy George should never have been allowed on television and you're only in the team because you're from Leeds. Sympathy for the Academy isn't real: we're harsher on the home grown players. Loyalty only kicks in at the moment when a player starts to look really good. Kippax lad Jamie Shackleton's imminent betrayal, ending sixteen years with Leeds by going on loan to Reading or someone, isn't upsetting anybody.