Ending the Elland Road Exile
Ending the Elland Road Exile
For years I have been screwed over by the ticket office’s online application system, but all those frustrations were washed away the moment I received the email. ‘We are delighted to inform you’ was all I needed to read as I yelped for joy. I was one of the lucky ones, but I didn’t realise how lucky I was until texting my mates, none of whom had got a ticket. Nor had my dad, but he wasn’t bothered; Park Fisheries doesn’t open on a Sunday.
It was such a strange feeling to be getting ready for the match, the emotions were swirling around inside me and I don’t even know what they were. I was happy but I didn’t feel happy. I wasn’t nervous but I did feel nervous. Maybe it was a type of survivors’ guilt, knowing that so many of the Leeds United family wouldn’t be there to witness this momentous occasion, the day we had all been dreaming of for well over a year now. It was truly bitter-sweet.
Maybe it was a type of survivors’ guilt, knowing that so many of the Leeds United family wouldn’t be there to witness this momentous occasion, the day we had all been dreaming of for well over a year now. It was truly bitter-sweet.
I parked up at the top of Beeston Hill and headed to Elland Road with a can of Stella to take the edge off whatever it was I was feeling. As I turned the corner off Sunnyview Gardens only the over-grown shrubbery was blocking my view of Elland Road, part of me wanted to speed up, part wanted to slow down, so I did neither and in due course reached the stairway down to heaven. There she was in all her glory, with new floodlights looming over the West Stand.
There were still 90 minutes to go until kick off so I soaked up the atmosphere as people milled around Lowfields Road, and bought a programme for the first time in 25 years (actually my dad bought them back then, this might have been the first I’d ever bought). I’d planned on doing a full lap of the stadium but found myself desperate to get inside, and after three rounds of ticket checks I made it through the turnstiles into the Kop. The first port of call was to do something I never thought I would ever do in my life, a dump in the Kop toilets (my nervous energy was playing havoc with the old bowels), then it was up the stairs and straight to my season ticket seat. Four hundred and forty-two days later, I was finally home.
There she was in all her glory, with new floodlights looming over the West Stand.
The next few minutes were spent thinking of the goals we’d missed, playing them out in my minds eye, trying to bring the moments to reality. It was last season’s matches that were dominating my thoughts, those matches we were robbed of as Pablo Hernandez dragged his teammates to promotion. Ah Pablo, today was the day we would bid him, and Gaetano Berardi, an emotional farewell. As if it wasn’t going to be emotional enough.
As the crowd began to grow, the players finally emerged for their warm-up. The West Brom players were first on to the pitch, greeted by chants of, ‘You’re going down!’ Moments later Elland Road was cheering like a goal had been scored, as the Leeds squad ran on to the pitch in an equally over-excited manner. The fans, and the players they adore, were finally reunited. When the teams were announced there were further cheers, with Hernandez and Berardi both named in the starting eleven. More thrilling for me, El Loco had picked the exact team I had wanted (well, except for the goalkeeper of course). It was a team that paid homage to the job Bielsa had done at Elland Road, although I’m sure The Great Man was paying homage to the job the players had done. The back four and midfield three were all players he inherited from Paul Heckingbottom, when Leeds were near the bottom of the Championship’s form guide. Now they were top of the Premier League’s form guide. To be fair to Hecky, the core of his team were aided by a front three that would get any fans in the world off their seats; Raphinha, Rodrigo, and Jackie Harrison.
During the warm-up I did something else I never thought I would ever do in my life, bring a cheer from the Kop! A wayward Kalvin Phillips practice shot flew into the gangway next to me and I pounced on the ball before anyone else could. I carried it down to the walkway, to give me more space, and booted it as hard as I could back to the pitch. You instantly know when you’ve connected well with a football, and I caught this one perfectly. The trajectory wasn’t perfect though, for a moment I thought the ball was going to catch the edge of the roof, but it sailed successfully over to the lads to a lovely cheer from my companions.
The players headed back inside, and with only a few minutes until kick-off Elland Road was rocking (I’m sure 8,000 didn’t sound like this in the JPT!). ‘Champions of Europe’ bellowed around the ground, scarves waving everywhere you looked, until that intro started playing over the PA system. Those notes, played by god knows what instrument, stir up so many emotions. They form the beginning of the club anthem, a song that embodies the whole soul of Leeds United, and they welcome Marcelo Bielsa’s team onto the pitch.
‘HERE WE GO WITH LEEDS UNITED’, the first line was sung with such passion that I have tears running down my face just recounting it. ‘WE’RE GONNA GIVE THE BOYS A HAND’, about time too. ‘STAND UP AND SING FOR LEEDS UNITED, THEY ARE THE GREATEST IN THE LAND’, they bloody are un’all, over the last 11 games. By the time of the chorus I was a mess, I couldn’t even get the words out. I only managed the first syllable of ‘marching’ but recovered in time for the all important ‘na, nana, na, na, na’, which has become an endangered species through the Premier League exile.
It had been such a strange day, but within ten seconds of kick off everything felt completely back to normal. Liam Cooper shielded a ball out of play next to the corner flag in front of me, and West Brom’s number two hit the deck holding his face, rolling around like he’d been poleaxed. I was absolutely furious. Seconds into this dead-rubber game, a game Leeds fans have waited over a year for, 17 years if we’re talking about the wait to see Premier League football (and a lifetime for anyone under the age of 25), this fucking prick was trying to get our captain sent off for nothing. I steamed down the stairs screaming and shouting, waving my arms so ferociously that I nearly dislocated my shoulder. I wasn’t alone. Another bloke was stood next to me doing the same thing, and during my fit of rage I was still able to note how brilliant it was to be back, to be able to unleash hell on these cheating bastards in the flesh. Chants of, ‘Wanker! Wanker! Wanker!’ rained down from the terraces; Elland Road was alive again.
Something not so great to experience in the flesh was VAR, and it took only seven minutes to feel the effects of it when a sweeping move brought a tap in for Harrison. I cheered, knowing it didn’t mean it was a goal, and when the flag went up I waited, knowing it didn’t mean it wasn’t a goal. Only when play resumed could I be sure it had been ruled out. It mattered not, just ten minutes later Raphinha’s corner was headed in at the far post. This time my only doubt was who’d scored it, and for some reason I thought it might be Berardi. The South Stand was going potty, but people weren’t invading the pitch so I wasn’t surprised when the PA announced Rodrigo’s name, his fourth goal in four games.
It was a carnival atmosphere as The Messiah’s team toyed with their opponents. The second goal came courtesy of a poorly struck Kalvin Phillips free kick, which floated through a pathetic wall and bounced past a pathetic keeper. This was far too easy, and The Yorkshire Pirlo looked embarrassed that his first Premier League goal had arrived in such a manner.
El Mago’s feet was enough to bring any Leeds fan to tears
In the second half it was more of the same, Leeds were so dominant it felt like they could score ten if they really tried. But the only one who was really trying to score was Pablo Hernandez, and his growing desperation to get a goal suggested he only had a set amount of time to do so. Sadly, after 65 minutes his time was up. Time was up for Berardi too, who was first to leave the pitch after hugs from his teammates. The lionhearted heartthrob epitomises everything the Leeds fans want from their players – in fact he set a new standard – and such was his devotion that he was leaving as a true club legend, there may never be another like him. There may never be another like Pablo either (even if there was one like him 30 years ago), and he left the Elland Road pitch in tears. He wasn’t the only one, the thought that we would never again see the ball at El Mago’s feet was enough to bring any Leeds fan to tears, and I’ll forever be grateful that I was able to see him play one more time. For the next ten minutes the whole stadium chanted Pablo’s name on repeat, only stopping when Leeds were awarded a penalty for handball.
The lionhearted heartthrob epitomises everything the Leeds fans want from their players
Now comes the proof that Marcelo Bielsa isn’t beyond criticism! I can always find ways to defend El Loco – when he comes under criticism for sticking by players or playing them out of position there is always a deeper reason – but I can’t understand the decision to take Pablo off when he did. This was a meaningless game and we were cruising to victory, and Tyler Roberts had already played perhaps more football than he deserved this season. The crowd deserved every last drop of Pablo, and had he been given just ten more minutes we would all have seen him score or miss one last penalty. Instead, Raphinha and Bamford fought over the ball until Captain Cooper authorised Bamford, who slotted home his 17th goal of the season while Raphinha sulked on the halfway line, poor little sausage.
We hadn’t had the perfect ending, but it would have done very nicely indeed if the ref had just blown on 90 minutes. Sadly, the occasion was soured. It all started when Phillips let the ball run under his foot and presented an easy chance to Robson-Kanu, who finished past Casilla easily. This was only a slight annoyance, an irrelevant blot on a comfortable victory and Phillips’ fantastic season, but Phillips wasn’t done yet. With just a few seconds remaining he flew into a sliding challenge, trying to end the season on a high. It was a brilliant crunching tackle, but nowadays you aren’t allowed to do those, and worse still, Phillips stayed down writhing in agony. He received a booking for his tackle, and a reoccurrence of his shoulder injury from earlier in the season, his place in England’s Euro 2020 squad seemingly up in smoke.
There was a lap of honour at the final whistle as the fans waved goodbye to Pablo Hernandez and Gaetano Berardi one last time. Bielsa did not join in of course (why would he be deserving of praise, it was the players who had done all the hard work?), nor did Phillips who must have been inconsolable in the dressing room. It was a sad way to end a day of many contrasting emotions, but the joy of seeing the class of ’21 from inside Elland Road ultimately overpowered them all. As always, Marcelo’s characteristically succinct analysis hit the nail on the head, ‘It was an unforgettable game’.
I had imagined seeing familiar faces in the Kop today, sharing warm emotional greetings with practical strangers, most of whom I don’t even know the names of. That was not to be, but come August everyone will be back (god willing), and Leeds will truly be united again. And the Premier League can finally feel the full force of our club at its best.
Rocco Dean - Author of Marcelo Bielsa vs The Damned United (pre-order on Amazon)