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.
This was like Rondo Wars, and blessed relief when someone took the simple way out of booting the ball into the distance so we could see it done against the fresher background of a different part of the pitch.
United's philosophy was opposite. Not space, but ball. Ball ball ball. Wherever the ball went they rushed to it, competed for it, they were obsessed with it, not the having of it, but the getting it.
Somewhere in this uncanny hinterland between kickabout and full league match, someone risks getting hurt, especially a schoolboy trying to work out how things work, where a bitter clogger thinks he can teach him.
Yes there's a reason I'm just telling you the squad numbers now instead of talking about the football.
The best part of these two goals was Richard Keogh rolling his eyeballs and shouting at all his teammates. He's trying to play like Franz Beckenbauer these days, but, like, like Franz Beckenbauer these days, if you see what I mean.
Marcelo Bielsa, of course, will never give up, and that's why they say he's going to lose his job.
We didn't get a flood of second half goals, but we did get the Strid at full power, Raphinha scoring with the roar of a river through a gorge. His footwork opened West Brom's defence like a vista over moors; the noise of the ball in the net was as pure and monstrous as a kestrel snatching a rat.
It's hard to see what Casilla contributed as captain. He did the coinflips for the kick-off and to choose the ends for penalties, I suppose. Apart from that, all his ascent to the captaincy did was attract the negative energy of articles like this one.
Leeds and West Brom are on the same side of the fighting against the teams below. As such you could take this match as pure sport, a game to decide nothing except who has the better team.