Listening to his recent interviews, Marsch has seemed desperate for a fight, any sort of argument, so he can be the underdog and the winner he believes himself to be. The problem is that, in the real world, Jesse Marsch isn’t interesting enough to argue with.
The weirdness of Bamford’s goal was not only his breakdancing finish, humping off his haunches to spider-walk the ball in like Regan from The Exorcist being possessed by Gary Lineker, but that it was nearly finished for him, from three yards, by Junior Firpo.
Luke Ayling might not have known what to expect from Marcelo Bielsa, but Bielsa knew what he could expect from him. And that, ultimately, tells you where the credit should go for Luke Ayling's career at Leeds.
Something to remember forever, to remember Pat by, to remember the kit by. To remember his hair by. It’s not every weekend you see a goal and know, instantly, that you’ll be seeing it again forever.
This was not so much Rutter unlocking Birmingham the way we longed for someone to unlock West Brom, more Bamford sticking a crowbar in the door and leaning, making the gaps United could play through.
Hire whoever you want to manage Leeds, they won’t find a miraculous creative force here who Farke somehow missed.
Illan Meslier has looked serious this season, barely cracking a smile until full-times, when with air-punching pleasure he seems almost relieved that another test is over.
After losing to Sunderland and drawing with Coventry, nobody was thrown under the bus. Nobody was dropped. While fans and pundits demanded changes, Farke stuck with the same eleven. And he kept on sticking until they won 4-0.
Leeds need to find a way of avoiding being demoralised by playing so well, of not becoming dejected by the chances that don’t go in, or bereft if this season’s opportunity doesn’t take them up. The obvious answer is to score those chances and get promoted.
For once our club, setting out to be normal, is achieving it. And it’s not enough.