What do we do about Leeds United being incredibly good for two years?
At some point we have to factor in that these two seasons, dissatisfying as they might feel now or ultimately become, have been once-every-twenty-season experiences, twice.
First, and almost apropos nothing, I was watching a video of an oldish Leeds United game the other day and felt a jolt of recognition when Leeds went behind and Elland Road, as the teams lined up to restart, started loudly singing: 'We are Leeds'. That used to happen, and I'd forgotten, but whenever Leeds conceded: 'We are Leeds'. It was so impressive, how the crowd knew those moments were when the team needed the most support, and gave it willingly. 'We are Leeds'. I can remember it now, confusing the opposition who thought they'd done something by scoring. They'd slowly realise that they hadn't done enough. They couldn't hear their fans celebrating. They could only hear ours, unbroken.
It's funny how that doesn't happen anymore. Now, usually, when Leeds concede, they get yelled at by their own furious fans. I think the crack-up of relegation in 2004 contributed as everyone argued, ugly, about money. Defiance was back in style in League One but the 2010s created a new default where Leeds fans were suspicious of or downright hated Leeds players. In many cases the fans were right. Michael Brown, Steve Morison or Giuseppe Bellusci were in Yorkshire for themselves and gave us nothing. I couldn't warm to Neil Warnock's team or Massimo Cellino's club. Although I always liked Jordan Botaka and Casper Sloth seemed a nice lad. But maybe that era lasted too long, so that by the time he arrived it wasn't something Marcelo Bielsa could repair. The supportive defiance wasn't even a thing anymore, and the prevailing mood around football — around sport — had changed. I have a post-it note, and I think I wrote this down from someone online, that says 'I feel like I must not be a true fan of it, because I actually like it.' The cool pose that proves your fandom is to be the person that hates the most.
Anyway this season is about to become a lot of fun, if you'll let it. Daniel Farke's time in charge has been marked by commentary about how boring his team's football has been, part of which is true, but it forgets that you can only make a midweek Championship fixture in October so exciting. League football has this working against it, especially in the stuffed-with-clubs EFL, that 38 or so rounds of humdrum are required before the games can actually, truly, be said to count. The style of football, in the next seven games, will largely take care of itself, because the excitement will come from the circumstances, not the passing maps. Seven games to go, two points separating the top three, Leeds in the middle. If you want thrills from your football, if you were bored in November and wanted to get on the edge of your seat, strap in for the best five weeks of your year.
Or don't. Because obviously on the flip side of entering the tensest part of the season come loud howls for it all to be over, to skip to the end already, to wake up in May and be told, gently, how it all turned out. And I don't really understand the desire, among many Leeds fans, for promotion to have been settled early and without stress. I'm not about to argue that any of Illan Meslier's point-costing mistakes were actually good things, but I am going to say that being fifteen points clear of 3rd at this point sounds totally boring.
May Bank Holiday, 1990, Bournemouth — one of the landmark days in Leeds United's modern history (and we're still sorry, Bournemouth, although less sorry since you've been in the Premier League). Everyone who was there says it was unforgettable, era-defining, the weekend of their lives. 8th May 2010, Leeds at home to Bristol Rovers, is the most exciting day of my Leeds United supporting life, better even than the Champions League matches. Jermaine Beckford's goal was better because it felt better because it meant so much and came so hard — a goal down to Rovers, a player down to Max Gradel's madness. The East Stand was shaking. The players, trying to get through the last twenty minutes, were crying. These games make football make sense. And yet there's a strong swell among Leeds fans of wishing promotion had been done already, desiring to avoid having something so good happen again. Skip to the end — past the chance of being happy.