LEEDS UNITED 2-1 WOLVES

The first day of the new season starts with a burst tyre and it’s impossible not to see it as a sign of things to come, especially as my confidence in Leeds United is fragile to say the least. It’s not just a new season but a new era under the stewardship of Jesse Marsch, who rode into Elland Road for the last twelve matches of last season; a knight in shining armour to some, a cowboy shooting from the hip to me. Did we survive because of Marsch or in spite of him? Will his new team be any good? These two questions have dominated my summer, and both are impossible to answer. We will never know the answer to question one, but the answer to question two will unravel over the next few weeks and months.

Marsch has signed six new players, all young, unknown quantities in this country, but five of them have experience playing in European competition, where ultimately Leeds United want to be. In order to fund the influx of new signings, Raphinha and Kalvin Phillips have been sold - two world class players who carried the team - leaving the club woefully short of proven Premier League pedigree, on and off the pitch. This is the origin of the fear that consumes me on the morning of the 2022/23 season, and being stuck in Yarm with a flat tyre is a sub-plot that adds to the stress.

For the fourth time in five seasons I ran the gauntlet of booking a birthday event for my wife before the fixtures were released, and as I sit in the waiting area of Tyre-Spot Darlington I console myself by deciding it would be a positive omen if I were to miss the game: I’d missed the opening game of the Bielsa era and that didn’t turn out too bad. Knowing I’m clutching at straws, it’s a relief to be on my way back to Yorkshire at 12pm, and my dad is already parked up waiting to collect me as I pull into my street. My nephew Lucca and his friend Alex are in the back (clearly brought up to respect their elders), and 75 per cent of us agree that Leeds will finish 16th this season, then unanimously scorn Andrea Radrizzani’s bold claims that relegation is ‘impossible’. Fish and chips are scoffed and we head down Beeston Hill on a lovely sunny day, parting company at the bottom. Alex is in the Cheese Wedge, Lucca is in the West Stand paddock, and I’m in the Kop. My dad is still in the car listening to Popey and Kilgallon, or he’s snuck back into Park Fisheries for a third helping of fish.

As I climb the Kop steps I lament the lost excitement I used to feel on the opening day. I’m excited to see what Marsch’s team is like, but the exuberance that used to drag me to Elland Road in the summer holidays, just to see the place, is long gone. Shame. But it’s great to see the same old faces around me and my jaw drops when my dad arrives and points out that the bald man in front has grown his hair ‘long’. It’s a valiant effort from his few remaining follicles, the hair they’ve pushed out is thin and fair (hence I didn’t notice at first) but it’s long enough to be able to style and I’m impressed. I’m also impressed by the shooting practice in front of me. Rodrigo has everyone in row HH and above cowering every time he steps up but everyone else is finding the net regularly, and not just the one that protects the people in row GG and below from wayward attempts. It’s a clear improvement from last season and genuinely good to see.

When the match starts my new-found hope seeps away. Leeds still look like an old dog trying to learn new tricks and within six minutes they are 1-0 down. Elland Road falls silent and collectively fears the worst. I’m always suspicious of any Leeds fan who isn’t a pessimist. I’ve now seen 30 full seasons as a Leeds fan, and even the three that ended in genuine success contained horrific runs that scared the living daylight out of me (a club-record equalling six straight defeats en route to Champions League qualification, three wins in 15 en route to promotion from League One, and two wins in 11 en route to promotion from the Championship). We are conditioned to fear the worst, but on this occasion Marsch’s new team begin to find their feet. As they do, Wolves spend more and more time on the floor, imploring the referee to stop the game. It leads to fury in the stands but helps Leeds to get a foothold on the game, and soon they’re level when The Blanket Press forces a turn-over in the Wolves penalty box and Rodrigo Moreno fires low and hard at goal. The angle is tight but the ball squirms underneath the keeper at his near post and Elland Road erupts. Leeds just about deserve it.

As we head into injury time I have already updated Lewis through WhatsApp that it was ‘a good half in the end’, and immediately regret it as Wolves launch an attack. They split the defence with ease, but beating Meslier is no mean feat and the young Frenchman spreads himself in trademark fashion to make the block with his outstretched trailing leg. It’s as good as a goal and saves me from an internal bollocking for tempting fate so naively.

In the second half Wolves are in complete control, a tone they set by re-appearing a good three minutes after Leeds and the referee were ready to kick-off. Such is the away side’s dominance, when Leeds finally build an attack I have to adjust my eyes to compensate for twenty five minutes of staring into the distance. Klich has just come on and links well with Aaronson to reach the byline in front of me, then drills a brilliant ball across the six-yard box that nobody can turn home. The introduction of Klich is an inspired substitution by Marsch but I’m still convinced he should have replaced Bamford too, until Klich slips our number 9 in behind the defence and this time a brilliant cross is turned home, by debutant Brenden Aaronson. It’s a great moment and suddenly Leeds have an opening day victory within their grasp.

Bamford soon has a chance to seal the points but his close range header is brilliantly saved, then Marsch withdraws him as part of a quick-fire treble change that introduces three exciting youngsters; Gelhardt, Greenwood and Summerville. It’s another inspired substitution. The exuberance of youth, and their expert style of play, helps to carry Leeds through the closing stages. Greenwood is composure personified, Summerville is a livewire, and Gelhardt is Gelhardt. It’s still an agonising last few minutes but the final whistle blows and I am absolutely thrilled, experiencing a type of happiness different to any I have felt at Elland Road since the earliest Bielsa days. It’s the joy of winning a battle without being consumed by an ongoing war. Leeds have won and that’s good enough for me.

On the walk back up Beeston Hill Lucca catches me up, then I lose him again while engaging with two Wolves fans who manage to dampen my spirits somewhat. Apparently Aaronson’s winner has gone down as an own goal, and Wolves have no players and are doomed to relegation. I hope it isn’t true and that Leeds have beaten a good side, but the memories of Luke Murphy sealing a 2-1 opening day win in the infamous ‘Racing Stripe kit’ enter my consciousness like an alarm. It’ll be a few weeks until I’m convinced we’ve got a good team again, but a few days until my feet are back on the ground. For now I am on top of the world, and back in love with my football club again.

Rocco Dean - Author of Marcelo Bielsa vs The Damned United, The O’Leary Years, and League One Leeds (order on Amazon)