How Jesse Marsch’s Leeds beat Liverpool: Summerville prophecy, tweaks and Whigfield - The Athletic 29/10/22

By Phil Hay

Saturday night and despite the fear of Leeds United freezing on Merseyside, the air blew hot. Whigfield was on the stereo as they flooded back into Anfield’s away dressing room. Victor Orta hugged anyone that moved; players, staff, whoever. Jesse Marsch let it all flow, consciously trying not to steal the moment.

Nobody could have made Marsch believe it as the walls closed in on him last week but sometimes, very occasionally, football is perfect. Leeds head to Liverpool for an inevitable defeat and turn up their first win there in 21 years, the first time Virgil van Dijk has ever lost a league match at Anfield in red. Rene Maric, Marsch’s assistant, tells Crysencio Summerville that he will score tonight, and who is there to prod in with a minute of normal time to play, only his second senior goal in England and the day before his 21st birthday? One minute Marsch is on the brink, the next his demise is far less certain than death and taxes. So it goes.

Marsch looked tired at his post-match press conference, rubbing his face, emotionally spent. Managing Leeds can age a coach rapidly, like Simon Grayson stepping into the job with hair and leaving it with him well on the way to having none. “I’m not superstitious at all,” Marsch said but last week at Thorp Arch, he could not resist altering all sorts, tweaking what he could to try and break the contagion of destructive form. “Nobody wants to go through the same routine,” he said. “The problem now is knowing what to keep and what to change back!”

For him, and in light of the pressure he has been under, those are first-world problems, the healthy judgments that come with winning games and finding rhythm. If his tenure felt doomed after eight games without a win then that was more in the eyes of those looking in from the outside rather than those inside the building. Leeds’ hierarchy formed a ring around him after last Sunday’s defeat to Fulham, and that was the tone of the talk at the training ground as preparation began for Liverpool: that things had to change but those changes would not include the head coach, not unless results showed no sign of turning.

Within 48 hours of the Fulham game, the idea of a US tour during the forthcoming World Cup break had been shelved. Leeds will play a number of games in Europe instead, reckoning the balance of work and travel will be better. A proposed two-week break for the squad was slashed. Staff duties were altered and reassigned and Marsch asked a psychologist to work some magic. Tinkering was preferred to overarching action, all in the hope of buying him a little breathing space. A 2-1 win at Liverpool bought him more than a little.

There are many people who think they have seen this dance before, that of a manager and a club bound to part company but still to reach the acceptance stage and if Marsch was to reassert himself by fighting off the onslaught, what mattered more than tweaks at Thorp Arch was proactive progress on the pitch. Liverpool, on the face of it, was the promise of more pain. The reaction at full-time — relief and ecstasy rolled into something like heaven for one evening — was more akin to Brentford away last season, like a team pulling back from the brink.

Difference one last night was a stroke of luck, at the end of a period in which Marsch has had little. All it took for Liverpool to crack in the fourth minute was Joe Gomez knocking a pass back to Alisson without looking first, Alisson slipping on the wet grass as he tried to readjust and Rodrigo sliding the ball into a wonderfully empty net. Leeds’ finishing has been driving Marsch spare and at points as their form collapsed, open goals seemed like the only route to actual goals. As the first half developed, Brenden Aaronson hit the bar with a volley which should have been buried and Jack Harrison drove a shot at Alisson, rather than picking out the net at the far post. Liverpool were getting away with it.

Quickly, it was apparent that Marsch was sticking to his guns, preferring to risk going out on his shield rather than compromise with philosophy. It is becoming a trend with coaches at Leeds. His formation was no different, the usual 4-2-3-1, and the orders were the same: press Liverpool, particularly in the centre of midfield, and see what their passing was made of. The presence of Tyler Adams, back from injury, was keenly felt and Liverpool’s passing looked like it was made of brittle fibre. Chances came and chances went and not for the first time, Leeds found themselves competing hard in a game which might have been a write-off, constructing the first half intelligently.

Alongside lax finishing, Leeds’ habit of conceding in lousy fashion was compromising Marsch as badly. Rodrigo’s effort stood for 10 minutes before Mohamed Salah volleyed in from close range, given the freedom of the box as Andy Robertson hooked a cross his way. The teams level at the break, attention turned to Marsch’s substitutions which were slated to start arriving before long. Changing matches emphatically had been beyond him for some time, some alterations merely making his side worse.

Patrick Bamford was first on, replacing Rodrigo in the 52nd minute. Wilfried Gnonto came next with 18 minutes left, the call people had been clamouring for in previous fixtures. They were positive, aggressive switches and the balance of the contest merited it. Liverpool had their moments, with Illan Meslier fending off the kitchen sink and more, but it dawned on Leeds that they would rarely have a better chance of winning at Anfield. So often Liverpool were stuck with the block in front of them, unable to do more than rotate possession between their centre-backs and a low-lying midfield.

And then it came, a last wobble from Jurgen Klopp’s defence and one too many. Gnonto’s pass from the left found Van Dijk betwixt and between. Bamford’s touch was heavy but it rolled to Summerville who kept his balance, poked at the ball and guided it into the far corner. His shirt was off and everything went up in one corner of the ground. Marsch turned away with one arm outstretched and the other flicking fingers in delight, Freddie Mercury for a few seconds. He allowed himself that because management is, for the most part, so short of sweetness and light. But at the final whistle he stayed in his shell, quiet and reflective as others embraced a manic away end.

Had the weight on his shoulders lifted? “I don’t know,” Marsch replied, wary of counting his chickens. “We have to use this to launch ourselves. It makes next weekend really important, back at Elland Road.” He has had a habit of saying too much in his time at Leeds but that, with eyes on Bournemouth at home seven days down the line, was exactly the right answer; that one fine win had to become a torrent of points or once again, all progress would be lost.

That said, the club were backing him after Fulham and they were not going to soften their support after a win so extraordinary. A weekend which could have ended with Leeds at the bottom of the Premier League finished instead with an explosion of brilliance. Down in the tunnel, someone overheard Adams, already in the process of cracking on. “Three points,” he shouted. “Let’s get the f*** out of here!” And with that they were off, to confront whatever this ride throws at them next.