A key phrase of Angus Kinnear's programme notes, introducing Jesse Marsch last year, said Marsch was coming earlier than planned as part of 'the acceleration of the coaching transition', post-Bielsa. Later than planned, Leeds might have finally made a start.
If he's good enough for Pikachu, then he's good enough for me. And if we're not enough, ask Mike Whitlow.
"It's my fault," said Jones, when he was asked why Pablo Hernandez had wanted to tear his head off his neck.
Now we've seen Leeds United as owned by Andrea Radrizzani both before and after Bielsa was in charge. And we've seen that Bielsa's reign was the only time Leeds United was good.
Eleven months in, his confident delivery can't mask the substance of what even Jesse Marsch is saying about his own work: this isn't going very well.
The argument against independent regulation coming to football is that if clubs are run badly they should just go bust and be replaced by clubs that are run well. That's just a different way for football to stick its head in the sand.
Somehow the player who turns up every week fit and strong, runs his arse off in training and never stops working in the games, becomes a player people think is expendable. But hell, we would miss him if he was gone.
No Leeds fan could enjoy this game unless they had binned the Twitter app from their phone and refused to speak to anyone who hadn’t done the same. (Not an entirely bad idea.)
It was Bielsa’s Leeds, and he let us have it. It was a gift to us from a generous soul. And I, a selfish bastard, don’t want him to give anything like that gift to anybody I don’t like.
Marsch and Armas can sound off-key because they use a corporate nowhere voice that has no home, no nostalgic warmth, no tangible authenticity beyond an approved list of motivational phrases and quotes.