The Lost Year
March 7th represented one year since the Elland Road turnstiles closed and haven't been opened since. In these past twelve months, no fan base has suffered the loss of attending football matches more than Leeds United's.
My last view of inside Elland Road one year ago today
"Ayling gets the ball, and there are men in the box, and it comes for Pablo Hernandez and Pablo Hernandez....SCORES A GOAL FOR LEEDS UNITED". It was our 'Aguero moment', the moment of a generation for Leeds fans. One that will live forever in the memory but also a moment in which no fan can say 'I was there'. It was scored directly in front of where the Leeds fans would have been situated, an away end in which you would surely have been fearing for your life amid the chaos yet not caring one bit as a topless Hernandez jumped into the front row. Instead, most of us witnessed this magical moment not at the Liberty Stadium but in our living rooms through an internet LUTV stream.
Even if fans were allowed to attend, that moment would have been exclusive to a few thousand lucky enough to get a ticket but what about four days later at a full Elland Road? Imagine the scenes at the final whistle after that agonising 90 minutes against Barnsley where Deja Vu of Wigan the previous season was raising everybody's blood pressure. The relief, the jubilation, knowing that the promised land was that close. Imagine the stadium still full ten minutes after full time with Marching On Together and most probably 'don't you know pump it up the whites are going up' ringing around. Or the occasion of watching our champions take the piss against Charlton before lifting a trophy for the first time in 28 years. I know a few thousand people who went against a club statement and Coronavirus guidelines were rewarded with the open top bus ,(yes I'm still pissed off about that) but that's not the point.
Promotion was still fantastic, yet our long sufferingfan base missed not only the chance to witness these magical memories in person but also the new history the Whites are making as the entertainers of the Premier League. For that no one has suffered the effects of the Covid shutdown of crowds more than us on an emotional level. Liverpool fans will bemoan they could'nt witness their team end 30 years of 'hurt' without the title, but then winning the Champions League the year before must of been tortuous so fuck em. We have been beaten, kicked whilst we're down, chewed up and spat out and yet not been able to fully enjoy our resurrection.
(Our first trophy lift for 28 years in front of an empty stadium.)
Sixteen years is a long time! If you were 6 or 7 in 2004, the age when most people start supporting a football team it is likely you are now in your 20's and haven't yet seen Leeds United kick a ball in the Premier League. Again, imagine Elland Road on the old girl's first game back in the top flightwhen Helder Costa puts ahead five minutes in. Or the Kop roaring the ball towards its goal in that breathless second half as Leeds took the game to Manchester City. There have already been some memorable matches after just over a half-season back in the big time. We've all suffered far too many games we wish we could have forgotten so what a tonic it would have been to be at Villa Park for Bamford's hat-trick, or for our first win at Goodison Park since 1991, the routing of Newcastle being completed with Jack Harrison's wonder goal. Also, you can almost hear that roar of approval as Raphina, who almost seems like a mythical creature, stripped Gary Cahill of all his dignity with that audacious nutmeg in front of the South Stand.
It looks increasingly likely that we will have a second season in the Premier League and that we're finally here to stay so missed opportunities like a trip to the new Tottenham Hotspur Stadium and showdowns with the 'big teams' of this league can wait but what you cannot compensate Leeds United fans for is a lost year of Bielsa Ball. Although sometimes infuriatingly naive such as Man Utd and Arsenal away, watching Leeds play under Marcelo Bielsa is a dream. It is made all the sweeter after years of nursing a stiff neck watching Neil Warnock's hoofball tactics and whatever type of football that was under Paul Heckingbottom. We all know that Bielsa at Leeds will ultimately be a short lived love affair. Already he has managed Leeds more times than any of his previous teams and there's no knowing how much longer we have him for, a year? two maybe? So twelve months and counting of not seeing him pacing his technical area pushing his troops to the limits is substantial and it hurts.
It is not just the good times we are missing but also the tragic ones in which we couldn't truly give some of the biggest legends the send off they so richly deserved. The next time we enter Elland Road we may be sat in two stands named after Norman Hunter and Jack Charlton. The last time we sat in those stands against Huddersfield Town, Norman was there and they were simply called just the East and South Stands, perhaps waiting for someone noteworthy to be named after in rememberance like those of Don Revie and John Charles. It is tragic we couldn't properly say goodbye to Hunter, Charlton and Trevor Cherry as it is also unfortunate that we couldn't unite in remembering Chris Loftus and Kevin Speight in what would have been the 20th anniversary of their deaths last April.
There may well also be a very different type of goodbye we might not get to say to the very man that scored that goal at Swansea and whose stunning performances dragged Leeds over that finish line in that mini nine game season last summer. Unfortunately, it is looking like by the time we are allowed back into Elland Road on mass, Pablo Hernandez probably won't be there and that we may well have seen the Spanish wizard who has surely written himself into Leeds United legend play for the last time in the flesh.
Likewise, I also feel for our players for the same reasons. This is a bunch of extremely likeable lads who deserved to play out those promotion clinching games and now in the Premier League in front of crowds and all the emotions they bring.They deserved more than to lift the Championship trophy in an empty stadium and deserved an open top bus parade around the city for being the ones who ended our 'genuine' 16 years of hurt (yes that's a dig at you Liverpool). You could see that in the Take us Home documentary when Jack Harrison was among the first to entertain the crowd that had gathered outside. You can hear him being told not to go down but he replies saying he feels it's a "once in a lifetime" thing he can't miss out on.
And this year does feel like a once in a lifetime occasion. We could go and win the Premier League one day but it won't have been the ending of an agonising sixteen year exile under an adored manager. I've often heard older supporters than myself claim that promotion in 1990 was better than winning the title two years later, a thought echoed by Gordon Strachan too.
You could liken this past year to the opening paragraph of Charles Dickens's A tale of Two Cities.
"it was the best of times, it was the worst of times". It has been unforgettable, but not being able to witness it all in person has hurt.
By Lawrence O'Sullivan
