Leeds United 1-1 Everton: Autumn leaves - The Square Ball 31/8/22
I MISS YOU MOST OF ALL
Written by: Moxcowhite • Daniel Chapman
Here was a beautiful night for football, August ending with
warm hints of autumn coming instead of July’s searing klaxons of the planet’s
impending death. Autumn is the season when leaves fall and mulch, but first
nature gets its one last rage of joy before winter. The pinkening skies over
Beeston and the distinctive smell of washing machine repair made the terraced
streets and industrial estates a landscape for fond nostalgia, not fear of the
future.
I don’t think we’ll ever get to the bottom of what happened
in Frank Lampard Junior’s past to turn his life choices so petulant and
self-destructive. Given the conditions, and the glory that always feels
possible in the sport of football, the sourness of this Everton team was
spiteful. Lampard is their manager and he isn’t very good at it, doesn’t seem
to enjoy doing it, and doesn’t need to do it. Like billionaires who tweet, if I
had his life, I simply would not. Lampard must feel like he has something to
prove, but after his playing career, what is it? Did he secretly hate every
moment of being an energetic goalscoring midfielder, desperate for a redemption
tour as manager to set the record straight? Did he have his agent faxing Neil
Warnock every season, begging to arrange a transfer? Was he breaking coffee
dates with Gianfranco Zola or Andrea Pirlo, to meet Paddy Kenny over cake and
learn the secrets of The Boss he never had?
Everton’s time wasting was decisive in the way this game
lost its chance of pleasure and descended into bad temper. It’s an odd tactic
for Lampard to rely on, as the plughole after his morning shower must remind
him daily of time’s cruel march, but signing Conor Coady from Wolves has
confirmed his commitment to sacrificing what’s left of his youth and taking all
ours down with it. After the game, Lampard denied it all, saying Leeds fans
“became obsessed with time wasting” and calling that “weird”, but such feeble
gaslamping is so characteristic of Lampard it was convincing nobody of anything
except that his would be a Tinder profile to avoid.
Jesse Marsch’s ‘obsession’ with the time wasting manifested
as standing in his technical area with both arms in the air, pointing to his
wristwatch to imitate the referee’s signal for stopping the clock as Jordan
Pickford waded through his rigmarole. This was the latest example of Marsch, in
his words, “escalating” his behaviour to try to “affect the way that decisions
are getting made”, and in the sense that it seemed to make the ref, Darren
England, even less likely to warn Everton about their go-slow, it had an effect
of sorts. Adding just three minutes of stoppage time at the end let Everton get
away with it, and felt like the ref’s reminder to Marsch that only one wrist
mattered in the match. I expect Darren England will be so pleased with the
outcome he’ll need to put that wrist in a protective cast before he’s finished
his self-congratulations.
Self-inflicted injuries were another of the night’s spoilers.
Rodrigo dislocating his shoulder apparently just by running a bit wrong felt
inevitable from the moment Angus Kinnear committed his programme notes to
print. Kinnear claims innocence with these, telling TSB that when he used his
column to compare proposals for distributing payments through football to
famines in China under Mao, he was only writing to a “really very small”
readership and didn’t think “those things would have been taken out of context
and covered in the mainstream press, that was never my intention”. That was the
one edition of his notes last season cross-published on the club’s website with
a link tweeted to 900,000 followers, suggesting someone intended them to have a
wider readership. This week his subject was the transfer market, and his
achievement was to present the club’s fairly reasonable attitude towards adding
a new striker before the window closes — that Leeds will only sign one they
think is really good — in terms that even antagonised fans who agree with it:
‘We believe we have three striking options that are better than the majority of
our peers (two proven international number nines and a player regarded as the
best emerging young striking talent in the league) and will only supplement
this with an exceptional addition rather than just a warm body.’
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. But the shivers should have already set
in when Jackie Harrison’s cross flashed across Everton’s six yard box, a golden
chance any proven international number nine would have converted to a goal as
simply as breathing, but that Rodrigo just looked at. The emerging young
striking talent, Joe Gelhardt, took over but got little change and two fluffed
chances out of Everton’s injury affected backline. Then we got to see option
three, first choice Pat Bamford, carrying all the weight of the sixty minutes
for England against Andorra that he’s desperate to add to. Despite being more
involved in build-up play than Gelhardt, he looked far from sharp enough for
the Premier League. Marsch said afterwards that Bamford, “starting on Saturday
is a serious possibility”, and on this showing I see him lasting a half, which
is half of how Bamford got into this situation in the first place.
Being at odds with fans about transfer policy is one thing
for Kinnear, but despite Marsch’s expressions of gratitude to the board and
insistence that there are no ‘Marsch transfers’, just collective
responsibility, the manager has sounded like he’s singing from a different
sheet for the last few weeks. After this game he wasn’t only saying that a new
striker has “been a goal of ours from the start of the summer”, but readily
confirming rumours linking Leeds to Wolves’ Hwang Hee-chan, one of his RB
old-boys, saying, “I like Hee-chan. He knows our football, he’s on our list. I
can tell you that he’s been on our list from the beginning.” Kinnear used to
complain about his manager turning down player after player the board wanted to
sign, now he’s back to the days of clickbait websites getting their fuel from
Paul Heckingbottom’s frustrated dreams of signing Andy Yiadom.
The match itself had its own little turn back towards recent
history. Leeds were dominant, but fell behind to a first-half sucker punch.
Which sucker? Pick one. Rasmus Kristensen was caught out by Luis Sinisterra’s
tackle on Anthony Gordon, and a succession of Leeds players — Sinisterra,
Kristensen, Marc Roca, Tyler Adams, Diego Llorente — let Gordon go, recollect
the ball from a pass through Llorente’s legs, and shoot in through Illan
Meslier’s. United’s dominance was redoubled after that, but so was Everton’s
dedication to spoiling the match, and it became like one of those tense Championship
comeback slogs from the tougher end of the two years before promotion. Leeds
were even playing out wide again, like the old days, but forced into it by
Everton’s packed central defence. Jackie Harrison was excellent, reprising the
best of his wing play, but putting so much attacking through him meant asking
too much from Pascal Struijk, going forward as his back-up from left-back.
In a burst of determination after half-time, Brenden
Aaronson stood out and got the ball to Sinisterra, making his first league
start, who outwitted the England goalie with a sharp shot inside an unexpected
post. Leeds needed the equaliser to get the rewards of their second half play,
but they couldn’t build from there to win, and were nearly caught out when
their emphasis on going forward opened easy diagonal routes to counter. Struijk
stopped one with a tackle, a goal was called offside by the width of an elbow,
Meslier made a superb stop one-on-one. United’s aggressive intentions were
blunted by the simple fact that Alex Iwobi and Amadou Onana are bigger and
stronger than Aaronson, while Tom Davies kicking Meslier and Gordon barging
Kristensen over off the ball, the latter foolishness starting scraps on the
pitch and the touchline, came with the knowing grins of players who came
readier for a night of dark arts than Leeds.
It was all good fun to watch, in the way football has of
being enjoyable even in its ugliness. If I’d wanted to see sport equal to
summer’s sultry end I should have watched tennis. Marsch complained about
Everton’s damage to the night’s “entertainment business”, and he was right, but
I can’t deny I was entertained anyway by Leeds United’s battle with their
villainy. The rest — transfers, injuries, strategies, investment — is all stuff
to worry about later, hoping in the meantime that, unlike the hairless waste
spreading across Frank Lampard’s head, our season won’t expand out of control
into desolation beyond repair.