Don’t fall in love (until the next time) — Square Ball 22/8/24

"Does this happen every year?"

Written by: Chris McMenamy

As Leeds United concluded their transfer business in the summer of 2022, my better half turned to me and asked of Leeds’ six new signings: “Does this happen every year?” She didn’t know anything about these people, while familiar faces like Bill Ayling, Mat Klich and Liam Cooper stood aside.

For a brief moment, I looked at her with incredulity. Selling our favourite players and having to find new ones? It happens in nearly every Leeds transfer window. I quickly realised that she became a Leeds fan during lockdown, sheltered in the same building as me during that glorious promotion run-in. The majority of that squad stuck around and new signings felt like shiny new toys rather than necessary replacements.

Like most Leeds fans, she got to know Marcelo Bielsa’s players in a way that no previous generation did. Through social media, we learned that Klich loved street art, Pablo Hernandez was a gamer and Pat Bamford loved his environmentally friendly shoes. We saw images of their partners, kids, holidays and more. This was as behind the scenes as it got in a sport that almost always chooses secrecy over openness.

Jesse Marsch and Victor Orta went about ‘rebuilding’ Leeds after Bielsa was sacked and both our best players, Kalvin Phillips and Raphinha, moved on. Six new faces, six new lives to familiarise ourselves with. It wasn’t quite as bad as the Bates era, a time when summer meant selling anyone half-decent and the approach to finding replacements may as well have been to send someone out in a minibus and pick up whoever they could find.

This Leeds United, the real one, was all new to my better half when the likes of Marc Roca, Tyler Adams and Rasmus Kristensen appeared, but it sparked something in my mind. Why do we go through this every year?

Speaking to his Marseille team after losing to PSG in 2015, Bielsa said: “Accept injustice, swallow the poison; everything balances out in the end.” I would follow him into revolutionary war, but I’m struggling to see where he’s coming from. Football is inherently imbalanced.

Leeds United’s place in the footballing food chain is lower than we’re willing to accept. We look at clubs like Bournemouth and Brighton with unironic disdain, as though they’re ‘small’ clubs. It’s like me watching an Olympic gymnast fall off the pommel horse, muttering “pathetic” through a mouthful of crisps.

Though some seem to think that the allure of Leeds outweighs that of Premier League clubs whose name begins with B, it doesn’t. Not anymore, or at least not until Paraag Marathe gets his finger out.

We spent the past eighteen months getting to know Georgi Rutter. He loves horses, music and fashion. He’s the Gen Z Mateusz Klich and was rapidly on his way to etching his name into Leeds cult hero history. Until he wasn’t. Brighton activated his release clause and he was off, leaving behind thousands of jilted lovers.

Twelve months ago, Rutter was an expensive flop who couldn’t kick his own arse according to some, myself included. A year later, he was a creative genius who was surely going to lead us back to the Premier League. Now? To embittered fans, he’s a £40m attacker who can’t score, while the eternal pessimists see his departure as the symbolic death of Leeds United’s dreams. Perhaps the realists believe that too.

The Rutter situation feels like a modern problem, much like release clauses, Fabrizio Romano and player agents. It doesn’t help the situation that the Leeds United gold standard is the Don Revie team, a squad full of players who stayed at the club so long that it makes Rutter’s time in West Yorkshire feel like a one-night stand.

It goes without saying that the Revie team is a one-off, although I wonder how many of them would have turned down the riches on offer elsewhere had they been playing in the 21st Century. I can’t imagine Billy Bremner taking a final payday in Saudi Arabia but it’s an interesting thought.

Still, you can’t blame today’s players for taking these life-changing opportunities when presented with them. It’s irrational to expect a 22-year-old from Brittany to sacrifice another year of his career by playing in the Championship to appease thousands of people he doesn’t know, but it doesn’t make it any more palatable as a fan.

In the incredibly unlikely event that our new winger Largie Ramazani is reading this: I’m sorry, Largie. It must sound rather ungrateful to be moaning about signing new players but this summer has only served to reinforce the feeling that elite modern football is the same as the financial services industry; lots of young people jumping between companies in search of a pay rise that they’d struggle to get in their current job.

#WelcomeLargie. I’m sure you’ll be great and we’ll love you (until you dump us for Brentford next August).

As fickle as Leeds fans are, it doesn’t take much for the Elland Road terraces to lovebomb our players. If Largie is half as good as he looks on YouTube, he’ll receive the adoration of the masses. We forgave Willy Gnonto for going on strike, so we’re not the stubborn bunch we often let on.

Another three new players before the end of August feels necessary. We said that last year also. So yes, it seems that it does happen every year. Supporting Leeds and their players is less like building a relationship and more like speed dating. So, accept the injustice, swallow the poison and hope it all balances itself out by 11pm next Friday.