Nottingham Forest 1-0 Leeds United: This isn't going very well
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.
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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.
What “complete performances” like this draw with Brentford and the defeat to Villa actually reveal is the futility at the heart of Marsch’s project. Yes, Leeds are executing his ideas better, but they’re getting better at doing something that will never be good enough.
You’re unlucky to go down merely for not having a very good team. There’s usually something more, some extra element.
There's a power in the message of a goal like this, the telegraphic thrum of the wires taking it round the world or the different background tone in a pub where people are discussing it. It lets you know, by vibration alone, that something special has gone on.
Back in the good old days when nobody told fans what to sing, apparently they still chose not to swear. They also wore suits and hats to matches and honestly, if these are the good old days we want to bring back, I’m up for it.