Leeds United 0-1 Arsenal: Nobody's perfect
The least likely result from this game was Leeds beating Arsenal, and it didn't happen. But there was a really good game of football had here and it would be a shame to waste it.
The least likely result from this game was Leeds beating Arsenal, and it didn't happen. But there was a really good game of football had here and it would be a shame to waste it.
Afterwards, Marsch tried focusing on the positives, repeating his recently acquired rhetoric that this is a young team and he loves the players. In attack, I'm not sure that it was Bamford or Rodrigo's youth that was the problem.
At the core of Jesse Marsch's strategy is an acronym, S.A.R.D., standing for a bunch of German phrases that translate as 'Get into 'em, fuck 'em up.'
As the curtain raisers for this season's short second act, Leeds' kids played with an anxiety to please that was denied them at Elland Road back in the other epoch.
The idiotic waste of energy, with the net result of weakening an area of the squad that was strong, condemns the board more than any accusations of poverty. They've got money. What's lacking is sense.
Imagine the clammy cold creeping across Kinnear's loins as Rodrigo went staggering off in the first half, sobbing and huffing oxygen to dull the searing pain in his shoulder.
United's whole day was summed up when Struijk watched his clearance rolling towards his corner flag, and the camera caught his eyeroll when the ball clipped the pole and fell corner side, not throw-in. Typical.
Watching Klich here took me back, feeling circular, to the first time he grabbed our attention, a great game and a penalty in a shoot-out against Burnley in the Carabao Cup in 2017, followed a week later by a mistake costing a goal on his first league start against Neil Warnock's Cardiff.
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.