Right now Elland Road is an invitation to limbo, and not the cool fun kind where you dance under a pole; the rubbish kind, where you go to a game but nothing that you see is actually what is going on.
Luke Ayling dragged Klich to the ground for a celebratory pile-on as if he's been missing those long-range Klichers as much as Mateusz. They should enjoy them, too.
The lingering impression from seeing Bielsa take on Pulis was not that one style of football works better than another; neither is going to suddenly change their minds now, anyway.
All the complaints — the coach should be sacked, the Director of Football should be thrown down a well, all the new players should be returned with our statutory rights unaffected, Radrizzani should shove his PR stunts until he's bought proper players — faded away.
Perhaps one day putting my money into the club and into the hands of a Leeds fan won't feel like completely opposite things, which is a lot of what this pre-match protest was about.
I wonder how many children, distraught about missing the Kop Cat on Saturday, had their tears dried by a gleaming new ‘Billy Sharp 8’ shirt on their way home from the game. Us grown ups, remembering Vinnie Jones, will settle for copying his haircut and cheering more goals like Saturday’s.
The lovely atmosphere of Elland Road in autumn, when a game starts in sunlight, is played beneath brass skies, and ends floodlit but not too cold.