Brian Deane ⭑ From A-Z since '92
As a replacement for Lee Chapman, Leeds United's record signing looked completely lost. But as himself, Brian Deane was the player of the year.
This is part of my (eight year long, it'll fly by) attempt to write about every Leeds United player since 1992. For more about why I'm doing this, go back to Aapo Halme, and to read all the players so far, browse the archive here.
Parts of the article below come from an interview I did with Brian Deane back in 2018, which was itself published in two halves. You can read those in full here:
"All of a sudden I took some stopping" ⭑ For a lad from Chapeltown, Leeds, Brian Deane had a dream career — but it was hard work making those dreams come true. 1995's Player of The Year talks about why that award meant so much.
The Hard Way ⭑ "I never forget looking back at all those people who had got their wish," says Deane. "And thinking, you are not going to beat me. This isn't it for me."
Hometown heroes are supposed to have it a little better than Brian Deane at Leeds United, and in a way neither he or his school pal David Batty quite had the Roy of the Rovers story that growing up to play for the local team has been for others. Perhaps if they could have been combined, we'd have created the perfect Leeds player: Deane with Batty's belligerent non-conformity, Batty with Deane's, well, goalscoring for a start, but also his determination to prove himself. Batty never cared what other people thought about him. Deane had no choice.
They were thrust together by photographers when Deane became United's record signing in summer 1993, the two former schoolfriends posing back to back — with pistols, for whatever reason — in smart new Asics tops. But becoming Leeds' hometown no.9, for £2.7m, was "An absolute disaster," Deane once told me. Howard Wilkinson had bought him from Sheffield United to replace Lee Chapman, the defining centre-forward of United's rise from the Second Division to First Division champions, but Deane had the same problem Eric Cantona had the season before: ten other players who, no matter who was up top, kept looking for Chappy.
The midfield had become legendary, and Batty, Gary McAllister, Gary Speed and Gordon Strachan kept playing the way that suited them — using Deane as a 'wall' to bounce the ball off and keep themselves in possession. The goalkeeper, John Lukic, kept sending long clearances that he expected Deane, at 6ft 3in, would tussle for and win; the attacking full-backs, Gary Kelly and Tony Dorigo, kept sending high, hanging crosses that Deane didn't know what to do with.
Leeds United's Championship winning season, game by game, as written at Leedsista.com.
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"It just wasn't my game," Deane said. "I didn't know the dark arts of that. I was just somebody who was 25 years old, quick, and I wanted to play on the shoulder of defenders." And nobody was doing anything to help. Because he was 25, and United's record signing, and had scored 100 goals for Sheffield United and won three England caps, everyone just assumed he knew what he was doing. But until Brian Marwood had moved to Bramall Lane from Arsenal in 1990, Deane had barely been coached in centre-forward play: Marwood was the first person to talk to him about exploiting space between centre-backs and full-backs. Everything, to that point, had been built on a telepathic partnership with another big striker who liked the wing, Tony Agana. One was right footed, one left, and they flicked balls on for each other, making room for each other instinctively as if playing with a mirror of themselves. Agana had helped Deane build on his other foundation, working hard to overturn other people's expectations.