Leeds United 2-0 Millwall: Clear heads — Square Ball 18/3/24

STRESSLESS

Written by: Moxcowhite • Daniel Chapman

Some teams are fearless, and play without nerves, but fail to transmit their bravery to the agitated terraces where their impatient fans watch and worry. Then there’s Leeds United in 2024, not swashbuckling according to any recent standards, mixing plenty of caution with their flair, yet managing to quell the most disruptive element in Elland Road’s ideal sense of itself as fearsome: the anxiety.

Millwall’s visit was United’s chance to go top, if they won by two goals. It should have been a nervous day, filled with trepidation and fear, knowing looks and sidelong winks about what always happens to Leeds, typical Leeds, Leeds that. It was a beautiful day, basically, to choke.

The Lions tried to play their part, arriving noisily, playing roughly, not caring that their declaration about not caring that nobody likes them was being undercut by the referee Stephen Martin, and his mates, who treated Millwall’s players like a bunch of adorable scruffs they just couldn’t be mad at. The game began with two Millwall players in dayglo orange shirts sprinting into United’s half in front of the linesman before kick-off was kicked off, and the officials stuck with that free and easy attitude all the way through.

Jake Cooper dragging Wilf Gnonto to the floor and pivoting his buttocks on his chest like a see-saw? Just a bit of fun. Jake Cooper redefining a knees up by slamming his into Joe Rodon’s chest and head in the penalty area? Martin seemed to think twice about that one, lining up his view with a wide-legged stance like a tennis pro waiting for a serve, then with a meek wave of his arms indicating no penalty before looking over at his assistant to see if they were flagging, then giving another little nervous wave when he’d decided, once and for all, that since Cooper had not also kneed him personally in the face there was nothing to give here. There was also Jake Cooper doing this and Jake Cooper doing that, and George Honeyman zipping around like someone’s idiot mate getting random on a pub crawl, but the shrillest whistling of all came in stoppage time, a barrage of furious peeping because Martin wanted to lift a yellow card, like a dumbbell, and show off his biceps to Ilia Gruev.

So Millwall had the perfect conditions for shutting down United’s skilful forwards, who also had to deal with the ref’s habit of jogging backwards into them off the ball. And, save for a few bumps and bruises to Leeds’ legs, Millwall’s game barely registered. In some ways Leeds played them at their own. We didn’t get the long balls that route-one’d Sheffield Wednesday into 2-0 submission last week, but we did get a corner count in United’s favour – 13-2 – that Millwall would have dreamed of. A lot of those corners were won from what Millwall wanted least, Georginio Rutter, Crysencio Summerville and Junior Firpo playing short, sharp passes almost to the goalpost and aiming cutbacks into the six yard box, and although Millwall packed their defence and although they made it hard to make chances, Leeds were still getting to where they wanted to be, and eventually scored that way. Rutter nearly did it in the second half, hitting Firpo’s cutback at the goalkeeper, who then deflected Rutter’s second attempt off the post; then Rutter set the same thing up for Dan James who, with hardly enough time to feel the ball at his feet, the wind in his hair, the defenders closing in and his newborn on his mind, but did all those things anyway while picking a spot to shove the ball in the net.

That was the second goal. The first was scored after half an hour by Gnonto, taking efficient revenge for Cooper’s wrestling. Rutter got the assist here too, for a pass to Gnonto in space, but there’s a gap between events filled by Gnonto’s thoughts as he paused, let the Millwall defenders move into new positions around him, then drove into the gap between them. Bamford was thinking the same things, running into that gap and out again to keep it empty, and once Wilf was in there the finish was all him. Central, from the edge of the penalty area, he could pick a foot, pick a side, pick a place, knocking the ball past the goalie and running off to tumble into the South Stand.

It was a goal out of nothing, as they say, another gap, but Elland Road rarely allows for nothing, as we heard back at the start of the season when Illan Meslier would be yelled at for keeping the ball too long, and the forwards would be screamed at for not opening the scoring sooner. Not any more. The nothing from which Gnonto pulled his goal used to be filled with anxiety, but even with 1st place at stake, the goals were awaited with none of the desperation gripping Beeston a few months ago.

A few things have changed since then, though. First there’s the league position, a story hardly told by league places – from 3rd to 1st is a small journey – but that was a cause for panic back when Leicester and Ipswich were building up uncatchable points totals.

Then there’s the simple act of winning. Leeds have won fifteen games at home this season. Across the two seasons after Covid relented and Elland Road refilled Leeds won a grand total of nine home games. And those few wins tended to be frenetic, tense, carried off by stoppage time winners or held through late near-misses. This season began with a 95th minute equaliser at home to Cardiff, coming from behind to draw with West Brom, then a 0-0 draw with Sheffield Wednesday that felt as fractious as a relegation battle. Leeds were miles away, then, from being a team ticking off 2-0 wins amid an atmosphere of ‘how many?’ rather than ‘please God just one’, but they’ve traversed those miles in just a few months, and made up all the ground that was thought lost forever to Leicester on the way.

Ethan Ampadu and Joe Rodon have been getting the proper credit for this in recent weeks, as along with Illan Meslier they’ve kept the goals against column in calm shape and taken the pressure off the forwards. But the lauded attackers, too, have been learning that defence can be the best form of attack, that what the back-line is buying them is time to be patient. Nothing came easily against Millwall, or last week in Sheffield, but what did came from Leeds consistently and patiently working at the same moves until they paid off, without lunging into the sort of risks that might get the defence into trouble. Afterwards, Daniel Farke talked about how rarely he has “experienced such togetherness” in a dressing room, and whether it’s cause or effect, Leeds are performing with a visible shared purpose.

That was lacking amid last season’s myriad motivations, when what Weston McKennie wanted or Brenden Aaronson needed was at odds with what Leeds United was crying out for. Nobody could define what that was anyway. Last season started with Andrea Radrizzani making plans for progressing into European competitions, and collapsed amid conflicting timelines, succession plans and transfer strategies. It must have been hard for the club to focus on fighting relegation while the head coach was convinced his “metrics” had his team in the top ten, when players could count on top flight football at other clubs even if the club they were relegating didn’t have it. To be twee for a minute, now Leeds are borrowing from the A-side of our 1972 top ten hit, playing ‘With heart and soul, for the goal that’s clearly sighted’, with no confusion, no doubt, no distractions, no blurred vision despite Jake Cooper’s best efforts. It’s exemplified by Connor Roberts, happy to come on loan and not play if he’s not needed, cheerfully twiddling his moustache on the bench like a Blitz profiteer with a lock-up full of nylons and chewing gum.

Daniel Farke, overseeing all this, let himself go when Leeds scored their second, punching the air either through delight at getting exactly the two-goal advantage they needed to go top, or relief that three points were all but secured. It felt like a significant gesture from a manager who has taken Leeds up the table by stripping away excess emotions and not letting the Peacocks’ anxious nature creep into the vacuum it traditionally abhors. We’ve been on promotion rides, and relegation rides, but Farke isn’t in the mood for a journey this season, just a destination. “I tell you what,” Farke said after this game, “in twenty years, no one will remember how many minutes Dan James played, or Willy Gnonto played, or if he had sixty minutes on the pitch or just 36 minutes, or how many goals or how many assists they have. But everyone will remember when we are there with a legendary season.” Legendary, hopefully, for the right reasons, even as hopes are becoming expectations.