Unopposed
Tthere's something simple and appealing about Bielsa's stoic-ball. 'Don't worry about them, let them worry about you' is a trope that has always been interpreted by Warnockian centre-halves to mean 'kick the other bastards first', but what Bielsa offers is something more profound.
Marcelo Bielsa's teams are characterised by hyperactivity and ceaseless movement, but the coach himself by an almost unnatural stillness, whether with head bowed and hands clasped as if praying for the press conference to end, or gazing from his technical area across the playing field, where he is in charge of answering prayers.
Henry Winter of The Times travelled to Elland Road for Tuesday's game against Bolton Wanderers and, after observing Bielsa observing Leeds from his observation bucket, dubbed him 'The Prince of Pails', making his whole trip worthwhile.
My preferred prince of Tuesday was Samu Saiz; when he juts his chin just so, I can imagine him tugging at the blonde tufts of his beard as if plotting a vengeful challenge for his father's throne. Saiz is characterised by short legs, long vision, flickering heels and Fred Astaire's toes; on his right foot, anyway. But he has also been characterised by spitting at an opponent, running after referees to show them his bruises, and waving a full deck of imaginary cards around; and, before he came to Leeds, by imbalance of laziness and life. He was too lazy on the pitch, and too alive in the nightclubs.
My favourite story of Saiz's old days is about him missing a team meeting on the morning of a game, blaming it on an unexpected bicycle festival in the city centre; I can only imagine what effect all those tinkling bike bells had on Samu's hangover as he sat steaming in the traffic. That was just one of the disciplinary problems he had in a difficult season at Atletico Madrid B, the last stop in his tour of big clubs' B-sides, that seemed to be leading him everywhere but the hit parade.
A transfer to Huesca sorted him out, or rather, Juan Antonio Anquela becoming Huesca's coach did; he and Saiz understood each other, and for two seasons Saiz was a new player — the player Leeds bought. We saw the best of him for half a season, but then perhaps we saw that he needs the sympathetic interest of an understanding coach to get the best from him; instead, after his suspension, Saiz saw Paul Heckingbottom and gave up. With hindsight, it's hard to blame him.
What we've seen from Saiz in three games this season, though, is more than a return to the best of him last season; it's a reformation. As Bielsa's enganche, Saiz's flair is even more obvious and dangerous, as are the attempts to stop him; Derby County sent Bradley Johnson to tame him, and Bolton tried Josh Vela then Gary O'Neil. The latter halted one Saiz burst — a much better name for Opal Fruits — by grabbing what he could of the hunched prince's short neck and hauling him down, and then Saiz — Saiz got up. There was a glance at the referee, a gesture seeking sympathy, and then it was on with the game: Saiz had goals to create.
It's tempting to give Bielsa the credit for every improvement at Leeds United, but this new kind of discipline is apparent beyond only Saiz, and it's coming into the team from the same place as the new heart-filling attacking style: from our bucket Buddha, Bielsa. (Henry Winter hasn't left many of these for anybody else, I'm trying my best.)