The Power and Passion of Leeds United

Dave Tomlinson

I might be (okay, I am) biased but there’s no one quite like a supporter of Leeds United.

We are proud, proud to be Leeds fans, the great unwashed, the outlaws with noses pressed to the window, knowing that one year, maybe this year, will be our year.

Supporting Leeds is not a science, an academic pursuit, a chosen hobby; it is a calling, an obsession, a thing born in the blood, which we cannot ignore, a passion passed on from father to sons and, more and more often these days, daughters. You do not choose Leeds, they choose you.

My own personal obsession with Leeds United began back in 1970, the days of Revie, Bremner and Treble heartbreak. I’ve suffered with the rest, the tens of thousands of committed fans who trudge the highways and byways of the country, hoping for the best and fearing the worst.

The lot of the United fan is not a happy one, but still they come, week in and week out, with their fervent chants of ‘Marching on Together’ and ‘Champions of Europe’, hoping that this will finally be the year, but recognising in their objective moments the improbability of that dream.

I’ve tried to capture this in my latest book, Leeds United in the 1980s and 1990s, to celebrate what it’s like to be a Leeds fan, or even any football fan anywhere come to that, a masochistic member of a cult, usually left in a place where you feel lower than low, but sometimes able to walk on air. They have to be rare these moments, or you end up acting like the Prawn Sandwich Brigade over at the Theatre of Dreams, with an insatiable demand for silverware and happy headlines.

And they have been rare for us, but OH SO precious!

The story is about an astonishing two decades in the history of this great club, when they slipped out of the First Division, and then spent eight years trying to get back there, a time that is usually referred to as the Wilderness Years when Leeds became a mediocre club meandering in a mediocre Second Division, directionless and grim.

In those days, Leeds became the symbol of the hooliganism that scarred English football in the 1980s, when cities and towns across the country were gripped by fear and loathing whenever the Leeds hordes came to town. The board sold the club’s Elland Road stadium to Leeds City Council to keep the wolves from the door.

There was a bright and glorious spell under Billy Bremner when Leeds reached the semi-finals of the FA Cup and made it into the final of the Second Division play-offs. There were glorious failures in both games, but they revived the spirit and hopes, before we dipped again a year later.

And then Howard Wilkinson came along to grab the club by the throat and shake it back to life. He signed Gordon Strachan to lead his revolution and within two years Leeds were back at the top and challenging for the championship.

That was good, but when Leeds beat Manchester United to the league title in 1992, it was great, a wonderful moment for this great club.

They fell off the cliff a year later when they lost Eric Cantona to the despised Manchester United but came again with the goals of the extraordinary Tony Yeboah.

Wilkinson lost his way and his job and two years later David O’Leary established Leeds United as Everybody’s Favourite Other Team as their young guns stormed the football fields all across England to put the fear of God in every one of them.

Again, Elland Road was a place to be, a wonderful, vibrant stadium that rang with the cheers of passionate Leeds United fans, when we could hope for more glory to come.

Ah, the memories …