Jackie Harrison’s first touch is the only clarity I need - The Square Ball 18/10/22

GENERALLY CONFUSED

Written by: Rob Conlon

Reflecting on escaping relegation by winning at Brentford on the final day of last season, Jesse Marsch spoke about his frustration with our city’s attitude that success in Leeds has to be fraught with anxiety. “I’ve heard this is the Leeds way,” he said, “but I’m not buying into that.”

Marsch often talks about wanting to change Leeds’ mentality, leaning heavily on two of his favourite buzzwords. Stress — he wants less of that. Clarity — he wants more of that. Whether it came from burning buildings in Leeds city centre on Saturday night, the Beeston blackout of Sunday afternoon, or whatever the hell happened at Elland Road once play was restarted against Arsenal, I hope he’s now recognised that to save his sanity he’d be better off accepting the madness.

I left Elland Road on Sunday feeling relatively content I wasn’t going to understand much of Leeds’ 1-0 defeat to Arsenal. Walking back to Holbeck I overheard a fellow supporter blaming an FA conspiracy — they didn’t want Leicester to win the league in 2016, apparently, so now they must be out to stop us climbing to 11th in the table. It’s as reasonable an explanation for Rodrigo’s crossfield pass to Bukayo Saka as I’ve heard. I admired the fan’s quest for reasoning in defeat. I just thought Leeds would be better off scoring some goals.

That still doesn’t help me make sense of anything. I’ve only got myself to blame. A slight hangover from Live At Leeds and a hike into the clouds of the East Stand Upper made me feel far away from the frantic tension of the pitch and crowd below me. The brain fog only got thicker when I checked my phone during the power cut to read how Birmingham’s game at Hull in our old friend the Championship was also being delayed while they sawed off part of the goalposts, which were somehow too tall. By the time the third minute of the first half at Elland Road began, forty minutes after kick off, I knew I was lacking the endurance for another hour and a half of chaos. I’ve watched the game back and everything seems faster and louder than it did at the time. In the ground I was mainly wondering why Leeds players seemed to keep taking an extra second to make a decision, and kept refusing to pass the ball to Pascal Struijk in space on the left touchline.

I’m happy to admit my analysis of the game might be misguided. I was particularly frustrated by Marc Roca’s slowing down to play short, safe passes, but have since read that he had one of his best games in a Leeds shirt. Likewise, I was impressed by Jackie Harrison’s drive in and out of possession, only for a quick search of the internet to tell me I’m wrong.

It’s not the first time I’ve sought solace in Harrison when feeling confused this season. After Leeds let three points slip away at Southampton, I let the frustration subside by marvelling at his first touch. The same thing happened in the second half against Arsenal. Tyler Adams hoofed a pass towards the right wing, sending Harrison tip-toeing backwards, the ball dropping over his shoulder, and two Arsenal players running towards him. Jackie brought it down with the outside of his boot and a touch that elegantly unveiled clarity of time and space.

I’m starting to question myself again, because this gif doesn’t make it look as impressive as it seemed from the East Upper. But the swoons from the fans sitting around me suggested I wasn’t the only one calmed by Jackie’s control. It wasn’t helped by the subsequent passes from Brenden Aaronson and Luis Sinisterra going astray, just as Jackie’s later through ball to Pat Bamford gets overlooked because it failed to result in a goal. Again, Leeds would make it a lot easier to have fun if they just put the ball in the net a few more times.

My post-match debrief with friends over beers in The Holbeck WMC didn’t offer any more clarity. Who were we meant to blame — Rodrigo? Bamford? Crysencio Summerville? The FA?

A group of Scandinavian Leeds fans were drinking on a table next to us, having the same conversations, mulling over the same questions. Eventually one stood up and asked for quiet, proposing a toast to his friend, Terje, on the same table, who was celebrating — if that’s the right word — his 650th Leeds match. Terje looked tired, like he wasn’t able to explain anything he’d just seen either. If he’s none the wiser, 650 games later, what chance have I got?