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.
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.
You’re unlucky to go down merely for not having a very good team. There’s usually something more, some extra element.
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.
Clarity is one of Marsch’s favourite words, he’s always trying to get the players to see with it, think with it. I wonder if he’s been upstairs to ask if anyone there has any to offer.
This is all quite enough to make one person think about how they’re choosing to live and what they value about life, long before they come sopping wet off a field to have a bunch of journalists barking at them about the stress of managing Leeds.
Fans are left with the same guesswork about when Radrizzani will think his limits are reached and what will happen next. In the meantime, United’s Premier League status is being left to fate, since the board wrested control of it from God.
Erling Haaland is a brilliant footballer with a fantastic dad. But the best thing is still that someone with his background can play on a team with Kalvin Phillips, with his.
Maybe the right place for Kalvin was Leeds all along, because Manchester sure hasn’t looked like home from home for him so far.