Save our Souls - The Square Ball 29/6/22
KEN BATES STILL DOESN'T HAVE ONE
Written by: Steven York
Leeds United’s revival is a story about a club rediscovering
its soul. It wasn’t long ago that we had a fractious relationship with the
organisational entity. We may have loved some of the players and admired some
of the managers, but I’m struggling to think of many times in the
post-relegation, pre-Bielsa era when the relationship between fan and club was
particularly strong.
We’ve had Ken Bates calling fans morons. We’ve (allegedly)
had Massimo Cellino throwing money at ‘influencers’ on social media to push his
narrative in an attempt to control how he was perceived. We’ve had multiple
campaigns to rid ourselves of owners we hated (Pen4Ken, TTGM etc). Hell, trawl
through the years of #toma hashtags on Twitter and you can time-travel through
a history of desperate misery. There were genuine arguments about becoming Red
Bull Leeds not long ago, if it bought our escape from the doldrums we were
rotting in.
Leeds is a funny place. A one-club city with the finest fans
in the world. It always felt odd that so few owners appreciated what harnessing
that sentiment could do for the club. I thought Massimo Cellino had that
‘lightbulb moment’ in 2015, when the season ticket renewal campaign beautifully
attempted to remind fans of how wonderful everything could be. Josh Warrington
jogging the streets. David Batty sitting under Billy’s statue. Some children
awkwardly greeting Neil Redfearn, “Alright Redders.” Norman Hunter and Eddie
Gray strolling Beeston Hill. At the heart of it all, Sam Byram, Lewis Cook,
Charlie Taylor and Alex Mowatt. Four academy players, regular fixtures in the
first team. This connection between the city, its history and the football club
was firmly shown, and the campaign was universally appreciated.
Plot twist: it ended up being a shallow and manipulative
ploy to drive sales with zero authenticity behind it from the owner. Barely a
week after the campaign launched, the infamous Sicknote Six refused to play at
Charlton as Cellino sought to undermine Redfearn at every step. Steve Thompson
had been suspended without reason, leaving Redders on his own. I remember going
to games around this time and seeing Neil setting out cones before warm-ups,
alone on the pitch. If the marketing campaign leaned on the sentimentality of
fans and the promise of finding our soul, our egomaniacal owner immediately
ripped that apart.
That’s what makes the current era so special. Under Andrea
Radrizzani there has been a clear and conscious effort to reconnect the club to
its fans. There has been noticeable effort to pursue community outreach and
heal some deep wounds. However, much of that reconnection came through the
warmth and sincerity of a particular coach.
Radrizzani can rightly take credit for being custodian of
the club while its soul was rediscovered, but we must be cautious about
offering too much praise. After all, there have been some spectacular missteps
along the way (the Gaviscon club badge, for one). It wasn’t until Marcelo
Bielsa stepped in, helping us forget about the plethora of unlikeable managers
and players before him, that we started to remember what it felt like to have
that strong connection to the entire club.
We all love Leeds, in sickness and in health. But there is a
difference between the abstract, conceptual love we have as fans (irrespective
of who owns the club, who the manager is, which players are wearing the shirt)
and a real, genuine connection with a group of people.
The fact the players are genuinely good people helps. Bielsa
made a conscious effort to nurture certain behaviours and personalities and
remove those who didn’t fit his mould. It created a group of humble, honest
hard-workers, with whom many fans formed a genuine and real attachment. Patrick
Bamford could subvert stereotypes and be eloquent and insightful in interviews.
The players owned-up to mistakes and accepted responsibility. No one was
allowed to defer blame or accuse officials for our results. While Leeds United
had been unlikeable for so many years, it felt like it found its groove.
The problem is that time doesn’t stand still. It cannot.
People come and go, and the football club lives on.
If the revival of Leeds United is a story about a club
finding its soul, this next chapter needs to be an exercise in retaining it.
There is an inevitable ‘changing of the guard’ taking place, as players leave
and others join. This is a reflection of the club’s need to improve the quality
of the playing squad, to replace ageing players, and replenishing the ranks
when others get their well-earned moves upwards. It was difficult to see
Gaetano Berardi and especially Pablo Hernandez leave the club; two players who,
for different reasons, represented many great things. It was difficult to see
Bielsa leave and it’ll be heartbreaking (but understandable) watching Kalvin
and Raph move on. But this is football and clubs are living organisms that
change over time.
The worry I have is that with an influx of Red Bull
employees, a growing amount of investment from the San Francisco 49ers, and a
rapid change in the playing squad, Leeds United could suddenly feel very
different. Rebuilding that connection to the fans and the city took years. We
could very quickly become a club that shills worthless NFTs at fans, implements
goal music, and abandons the core tenets that Bielsa and Radrizzani clearly
worked hard to instil. Corporate clubs forget that fans aren’t just revenue
that needs to be unlocked.
