The Swedes of Leeds — Square Ball 15/8/25

No pressure, Gabi

Written by: Patrick Gunn

As a regular peruser of Bundesliga, I’ve been enthused by the Leeds recruitment team’s apparent interest in Germany’s top flight, though I’ll admit that even I wasn’t 100% sure who Sebastiaan Bornauw was before I saw him pop up on my Instagram feed. Given Bornauw’s injury record at Wolfsburg, and the fact he picked up an injury the first time he pulled on one of our shiny new training tops, I suppose that somewhat explains why his name hadn’t crossed my path.

But while Bornauw and his fellow Bundesliga pals have piqued my interest, it was the arrival of flying Lille full-back Gabriel Gudmundsson that really got my motor running. Not because I have a particular interest in Ligue 1, or know anything at all about the man himself. My excitement stems from a far more superficial place. Namely, your boy loves a Scandinavian in a Leeds shirt.

I’ve written before about how, at the height of Peter Ridsdale’s wild ride, I was insistent on having “Bakke 19” on my yellow Strongbow shirt, despite the more mercurial options on offer. Bakke was, admittedly, no Olivier Dacourt, but that didn’t really matter to me. There was something about his Nordic attitude and style that clicked with my impressionable young mind, just as I had been drawn to the shock-white hair of Erling Haaland’s future father a few years prior.

From the likes of Haaland, Bakke and Halle, the list goes on, diminishing somewhat in quality, but still running through yer Ankergrens, Schmeichels, and Einarssons (I’m counting Iceland, Scandi-purists); players who might not have lit the world on fire, but did very little in the way of causing problems. At some point, of course, you hit the Rasmus Kristensen bedrock, but while the Norwegians, Danes (I liked Casper Sloth — sue me), Icelanders (and Finns?) have a pretty solid record all things considered, things are a little more patchy when it comes to the Swedes. Can Gudmundsson buck the trend?

Ironically, one of the first players that made the journey to West Yorkshire from the frozen North just about sums up that patchy nature, given that he was supposed to be one of the most exciting talents in the game. Tomas Brolin arrived from the distinctly less-frozen Parma for £4.5m in 1995, having impressed on both the Italian and international stages before coming to England. His inability to adapt and a clear lack of fitness are well-documented now, so there isn’t much point going into the specifics, but his difficulties in a Leeds shirt are a good place to start when discussing how those from the land of blue and yellow have struggled to make things work in the land of blue, yellow and white.

Apparently, some time was needed to recover from those wounds, as it took five years after Brolin’s departure for Leeds to turn to the Swedes again, when Teddy Lucic arrived in 2002, on loan from AIK in Stockholm. As with much in regards to Leeds United in 2002, Lucic’s time was somewhat underwhelming, and Gudmundsson will certainly hope he has more impact in the blue shirt based on the one Lucic wore, given that Big Ted’s time is remembered more for his bald head than anything he did on the pitch. In his defence, Lucic ended up making 86 appearances for Sweden until 2006 — almost twice as many as Brolin, and far more than double the only other Swede to have represented his country and Leeds United. More on him later.

Marcus Antonsson is probably my favourite of the underwhelming Leeds-Swedes, even if I can’t quite justify why. Maybe it’s because it had been thirteen years since Teddy Lucic, and I was ready to be hurt again. Enter striker-slash-menswear-model Antonsson, all chiselled jaw and long, dark hair. In his one season playing for the club, he scored three goals, all done before the end of October, and the rest of his time was spent out on loan, so there isn’t really a quantitative reason for me to remember him so fondly. In a way, I think I sympathised with his situation: at £1.6m, there was far too much pressure to deliver on the shoulders of a young-ish striker that had never played outside of Sweden, just one of a plethora of Massimo Cellino’s “new wave” of signings for new “coach” Garry Monk, replacing the first wave that had failed so spectacularly. Things were very much stacked against Antonsson from the start, and I don’t think he did that badly under the circumstances. Now back in Sweden after a few assumedly lovely years in Australia, Antonsson is still scoring and still handsome.

Things were slightly different for Pawel Cibicki, who arrived at the start of the following season; one of 23 (that’s twenty-three) signings made by incoming director of football, Victor “I can fix him” Orta. Funnily enough, Orta spent as much money on Cibicki as he did on the man whose parents had stayed in Poland, Mateusz Klich, which I suppose — in a way — offsets the 0 (that’s zero) goals scored by the man who would, somehow, remain a Leeds player until 2020 (that’s… you get the idea). In 2021, Cibicki was given a four-year ban for match fixing. He’s now back in Sweden, back in football, and playing alongside none other than Marcus Antonsson at IFK Värnamo.

Which brings us to Cibicki’s former teammate at Malmö, and the only other Swedish international to have played for Leeds.

I can already hear the cries of indignation. Pontus Jansson is a player that still divides opinion, and I understand why some took to him with a passion. A self-proclaimed “warrior” who celebrated slide tackles and scored more than the other Swedes combined, I don’t think many would argue that Jansson is the best of the bunch to have pulled on the white shirt. But despite all the positives of his time here, I’d still argue that he falls under the underwhelming umbrella.

Marcelo Bielsa described Pontus as Leeds’ “best player” after his departure to Championship rivals, Brentford. How genuine that statement was is up for question, particularly when Pablo Hernandez was also in Bielsa’s squad, but there was no doubt that his physicality was a huge help in a side that often lacked the muscle to balance its beauty. One thing that Jansson lacked, however, that was essential to Bielsa’s system, was an ability to let go of his ego. Years of playing up injuries to the crowd, going rogue in post-match interviews, and the pointless protest at Bielsa’s decision to allow Aston Villa to walk the ball in, all pointed to a player who couldn’t simply be part of the team. At some level, it had to be about him. His reaction to the Derby play-off defeat — slumped against the advertising hoardings, away from his colleagues, in full view of the fans and cameras — was as good an example as any. Once he made it clear that he wouldn’t be returning to pre-season along with the other international players, the writing was on the wall.

So this, I suppose, is the bar for Gabriel Gudmundsson. Despite our long-standing links with Scandinavia, and the plethora of Swedish Leeds fans out there (Marcus Antonsson once referenced how his hometown was mainly comprised of them), Sweden hasn’t provided Leeds with the most glittering collection of the fine footballers it has to offer. Pontus came the closest, and still holds high status with some, but it doesn’t feel like an insurmountable peak for Gudmundsson to climb. Though, let’s be honest, it’s not as if our left-backs have had a glittering history either.

It’s been a while, Gabriel. I’m ready to be hurt again.