Statuesque
If I could I'd take along a huge old fashioned broom to the last match, and use it to beat the dust from the backside of every single one of the players for letting us down so badly this season.
If I could I'd take along a huge old fashioned broom to the last match, and use it to beat the dust from the backside of every single one of the players for letting us down so badly this season.
This design was supposed to be unique, breaking from the past yet rooted in the fan culture that makes Leeds United special. But by removing every trace of previous crests, they removed any connection between this crest and Leeds United Football Club as we have known it.
Waiting for the ball to cross the line was agony, waiting for Christiansen to turn results around was agony, trudging to a half-empty football ground season after season has been agony. Ecstasy was always there somewhere, though.
All the complaints — the coach should be sacked, the Director of Football should be thrown down a well, all the new players should be returned with our statutory rights unaffected, Radrizzani should shove his PR stunts until he's bought proper players — faded away.
'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.