Bielsa doesn't bring happiness. Bielsa brings principles and duty, and faith that the effort of adhering to them will result in happiness in the end, and the understanding that it probably won't.
Victor Orta was trying a Big Brother experiment last season, throwing loads of twenty-somethings in a building and seeing who doesn't break down, but those who graduated to Bielsa's dorm-rooms, video-rooms and round-the-clock attention are not the headlit rabbits we watched freezing last season.
While Reach's speculative strike had the satisfying audacity of a stunt, Klich made something artful, deliberate and beautiful. It's the difference between watching two magpies have a fight in your garden, or watching a nature documentary narrated by David Attenborough.
The lingering impression from seeing Bielsa take on Pulis was not that one style of football works better than another; neither is going to suddenly change their minds now, anyway.
Bielsa once said he'd prefer a team of robots to humans, but Tony Pulis has them; ten ginormous figures of steel, looming over the pitch like the towers of the Tees Transporter Bridge; and Jonny Howson.
Imagine turning up to the first home match of the biggest promotion attempt in years, and seeing Vinnie Jones is sitting on the bench, and Mickey Thomas is starting. Maybe that's the real reason fans were smashing windows.
Saiz dribbled towards the centre, swerving through two tackles, and was fouled by the third; he sprang to his feet, offered his hand and pulled the player who had fouled him back to his feet, desperate to play. We were 2-0 down in stoppage time in the Carabao Cup here.
Kalvin Phillips threw himself at the ball to stop Norwich taking a shot at Peacock-Farrell, and it was a moment when Bielsa's principles of complete commitment from first to last combined beautifully with Leeds United's principles of side before self and effort for the cause.
Few players do less to hide their emotions: when Pontus Jansson is happy, he runs to the fans and punches the air, and when he's sad, he turns his entire face upside down and glooms away down the tunnel. If there's any doubt how he's feeling, there will be an Instagram post explaining it.
Bielsa sits, crouches or prowls, eyes on the action, with one aim in mind that inspires countless thoughts and strategies: get this plan working. Bielsa has one way to play. His flexibility comes from the extraordinary lengths he'll stretch to so that he doesn't have to change a thing.