Chapeau: lost in France with Lee Chapman
'Lee Chapman Niort' has been a regular search term over the years.
'Lee Chapman Niort' has been a regular search term over the years.
Midweek on the playing fields, The Championship thwacks you on the knees, it knees you in the groin, it elbows in the face, leaves bruises bigger than dinner plates.
Everything is coming together nicely for Lasogga to be derided as the German Billy Paynter before he and his mum even have the chance to be chased out of the Millennium Square Christkindlmarkt for lewd behaviour.
Instead of foundations, Christiansen has made platforms from high-diving boards way up in the sky, and even if we topple off them now, we’ll do some lovely acrobatics on the way down. The feeling is, though, that Leeds United can go much higher still before anybody needs to think about falling.
The net had evaporated. Fires were burning behind the goalmouth. The ref gave the goal; he hadn't seen the ball once it left Berardi's boot but there was no other explanation. As hail began to fall, television technicians tried to rewind the tape. There was nothing there: all the tapes were blank.
"It's like going to see Gerry & The Pacemakers, or Marty Wilde at The Grand. How can you ever bear to see these people you used to adore in your youth? And it's the same with photography. This stuff is just shite. But that's the risk you're taking here. You don't want to be associated with me."
Andrew is the rare interviewee who will ask to go off the record so that he can say some people are "the nicest people in the entire world, they give me faith."
I believe in coaching, but after so many years of regressing defenders, I no longer believe in it at Leeds. Perhaps we fell foul of a curse, and need Norman Hunter and Jack Charlton to bless our centre-halves using whichever parts of their fists are most persuasive.
The other players seemed slow to join Chris Wood. Perhaps they were waiting to see if he was about to produce a bike chain from somewhere and pile into the supporters, finishing what he started on Tuesday night. He was shouting a lot, but I'm willing to assume it was all nice things.
Let's use Chris Wood here as a metaphor for Leeds United; because until we're not scuffing headers from three yards, we've not proven anything, and there's nothing to gain from being cocky.