Chelsea

Elland Road is still capable of neutralising the future. The game Howard Wilkinson grew up in still has to be played, first and foremost: players have to earn the right to play.

It might make for some grim football, but Leeds look grimly determined to stay in games, less willing to throw them away. And yet, they do.

Brenden Aaronson just loves grass. Green grass. Yellow grass. Part-synthetic grass. All the grass, he loves all the grass, loves running in it, rolling in it, being on it, dancing across it, eating it up metaphorically with his running feet and perhaps literally with his hungry mouth.