Covering Leeds

Covering Leeds United for the Yorkshire Evening Post has been a dream. A fever dream, sometimes, but a dream all the same. 

What a club. There is good reason why so many fall in love with it. Leeds United is a whirlwind that drags anyone who gets too close into the chaos. But you know all that. You know far better than me how brilliantly mental your football club is. You're part of it and it's part of you. So instead of telling you what you already know I'll use my last newsletter to tell you some things you might not have known.

With all due respect to Daniel Farke and the quite brilliant job he's done since arriving at Elland Road, my first experiences of Leeds United were dominated by Marcelo Bielsa and his football. A conundrum of a man and perhaps not someone built to fit easily within the narcissism machine football has become. 

He could be fierce. There was once a pre-match press conference on Zoom for which he was something like two minutes late. A club employee from the press department took it upon himself to go and look for Bielsa to summon him and with all of the assembled press tuned in, the head coach delivered a rollicking. Except it was two rollickings for the price of one - one in Spanish and then one in English, delivered by Andres Clavijo his translator. "I know well my responsibilities," Bielsa thundered. Andres was caught in that awkward limbo of not being personally aggrieved but duty-bound to convey his gaffer's strength of feeling. Oh to be a fly on the wall when Bielsa remonstrated with Angus Kinnear over any matter, with poor Andres having to translate and therefore chastise his CEO.

Bielsa could be patient and kind. Long, long after Spygate had been and gone there was a fixture that gave a national newspaper the excuse to dredge it all up again. It must have been an encounter with Derby County. A very experienced football reporter, who himself was suffering from health problems and nearing the end of his time covering the sport, was sent to ask a question about Spygate. Another one. It wasn't his fault, that was simply his brief.

He tried to ask, but it got lost in translation. A media officer attempted to step in and halt things before it got any more awkward, to end the press conference. Bielsa stopped everyone, enquiring through Diego Flores what it was that the journalist wanted to ask. So he asked again and Bielsa answered. It was a show of grace in the face of the nationals' lingering obsession with an episode that caused Bielsa significant embarrassment. 

He was witty, too. I asked him in a pre-Boro presser why his team didn't attempt more short corners. They duly took one and Mateusz Klich scored from it. In the post-game presser I asked Bielsa whether he or the players had devised the routine. He chuckled. "We took your advice." Back in your box, Smyth. 

Above all, Bielsa was fascinating. His football, his philosophy, his quirks, his stubbornness and conviction. His confounding of national newspaper journalists with lengthy explanations that went far above what anyone was owed. And still some grumbled. "Where was the line in that?" They didn't get it. He didn't fit into a 150-word boilerplate sidebar quotes piece.

More often than not the local Leeds press were left sharing smirks, half delighted that the 'big boys' had not got what they came for and those of us with more column inches to dedicate to Leeds United had another feature on the go.

From the first Bielsa era goal I wrote about - Pablo Hernandez at Bristol City, an absolute peach - to that final, sad week of goals conceded, he and Leeds United were captivating together. Bielsa and his squad helped me tick off the last remaining English division on my career bingo card, from Northern Counties East League Division One and up. Ten divisions in 15 years but one of those seasons was unlike any other.

COVID-19 played its part but Bielsa was the main attraction. It will forever grate that technological issues and a terrible Wi-Fi connection ruined his post-promotion press conference at Pride Park, meaning his words were lost and not archived by the YEP or anyone else. That was a little bit of history that should have been preserved. It will forever grate that his time at Leeds was ended in order to be replaced by Jesse Marsch's time.

Andrea Radrizzani was an interesting character, though not quite in the same way as Bielsa. We had very few interactions beyond a couple of Zoom interviews. He took a phone call during one of those, a remote post-promotion briefing alongside Paraag Marathe, and didn't mute his microphone. After a few awkward moments listening to him speak to whoever was on the other end, Marathe unmuted to ask Leeds media staff to mute Radrizzani. You can look too deeply into things but it felt and feels somewhat symbolic.

Radrizzani never expressed his feelings on the YEP's tone or coverage personally, but there were times when something we had written had obviously touched a nerve. We were made aware. We and others were made especially aware, on a number of occasions, that there was a Getty photograph of the owner that he did not want to see in print or online. Eventually we were furnished with a folder of lifestyle magazine-style images that he approved of. I saw little wrong with that Getty image, it was a fine picture and he looked well. It stayed in use. 

One of my enduring memories of the Radrizzani era was on the night Leeds United lifted the Championship trophy at a near-empty Elland Road. With supporters outside letting off fireworks and hoping for a sight of the squad with their silverware, the stadium held the teams, club staff and a number of invited guests.

Among Radrizzani's entourage was a guy in a beautiful suit, no socks and expensive-looking loafers. He was on the pitch for some reason during the celebrations and came across a football. Picking it up, he punted it high into the air, down the pitch, and then pranced after it. More gleeful than graceful. More pony than Premier League player. That image, set to a backdrop of empty stands and fans locked outside, always stuck with me.

Marsch was Marsch. He was very Marsch. Javi Gracia was gentle and polite. A freelance journalist working for a national asked him if he had 'lost the dressing room' after a battering at Bournemouth. It was like watching someone kick a deer. Sam Allardyce was exactly as you would expect. He pointed a finger gun at me in a press conference to make a point about motivating players to run more. Michael Skubala is a real gentleman. 

Liam Cooper, who led Leeds to a trophy, was one of a decent number of very decent humans in that team. So many Leeds fans will have stories about him, Stuart Dallas, Luke Ayling, Patrick Bamford, Kalvin Phillips and others going the extra mile for those in need or going through rough times.

A small example of Cooper's generosity that I can attest to was the time my son's junior football team were looking for a tracksuit sponsor so they could afford new ones. Cooper saw my Tweet, messaged to say he'd sort it and paid the bill within an hour or two. He asked for nothing in return and declined an opportunity to advertise any of his ventures on the tracksuits. We sent him a bottle of Irish whiskey - Writers' Tears - as a token of appreciation but it meant so much to the boys to not only turn up looking the business in their tracksuits, but to know a Premier League footballer had provided them out of the kindness of his own heart. 

Dallas' response to the news of my YEP departure was to ask who would 'do the dodgy ratings now?' Bamford thinks I'm Scottish. He asked me recently if I had been staying up to watch Scotland's World Cup games. Despite being very apologetic at misidentifying my admittedly faded accent, he repeated the grievous error when one of my sons bumped into him at Bramall Lane this week. "The Scottish one?" He claims he knows the difference between Phil Hay and I, but these bald, white, 40-something-year-old journalists clearly all look the same.

Phillips is a charmer and his family are lovely. Not long ago his mum Lindsay sent me a photo of all the YEP cuttings from his career. A proper Leeds lad who did proper well for Leeds. I couldn't tell you what Helder Costa sounds like, we never spoke to him. 

Two senior Leeds United players came drinking with us media riff raff in Spain during that World Cup break in 2022 while the rest of the squad scampered after seeing us in the town's only bar. Both very normal blokes and highly entertaining. The best bit of the whole thing was that they were coaxed back to the team hotel by a club staff member, pretended to go to their rooms and snuck back out again. They never stopped putting their hands in their pockets, even when further drinks were declined. The black stuff kept coming.

Generally the experience of Leeds United players past and present has been very positive. It helps when we're writing about promotions and wins. I once heard of some low-level grumbling from a senior player who didn't like me asking the manager about his place in the team, which soon wasn't his place in the team anymore, but the next time we were face-to-face he was nice as pie. He's been nice-as-pie ever since, even while playing for another club.

Most of them, even those who fall victim to a 'dodgy' rating, understand what we do, what we need to do and that there's never anything personal in it.

Robin Koch's people once asked the club to ask me to delete a Tweet after I made a wee joke about their fancy matchday graphic. It was posted on the wrong day. It was funny. The club passed on their wish, the Tweet stayed up. I doubt Koch ever even knew a thing about it.

Any interactions with the real greats of Elland Road have always been pleasant. It boggles my brain that these men, who were the finest footballers on the planet in one of the world's greatest teams, working for a legendary manager, did not lose the run of themselves and become estranged from normal life and normal people. How Eddie Gray has stayed so grounded, when there are young footballers today who have achieved next to nothing and still carry an air of superiority, is remarkable. Norman Hunter was so gracious and generous with his time. 

It's not just the 'all-time' legends who carry themselves so well. John McClelland played at two World Cups and at The Square Ball live show in Belfast was one of the most humble people I've had the honour of meeting. "I hope that was alright," he said after delighting the audience with his tales and insight.

Maybe it's partly down to supporters that so many ex-players keep their feet on the ground. There's a genuine fondness in the way lots of them speak about the club. David Healy is in that category and still loves the club. He's almost in awe of the fans and the characters around the club he remembers. And the longer a player spends here, the more they seem to get it.

It feels like we watched Pascal Struijk grow up at Leeds. His first interviews still make me laugh because he was so reluctant and shy. He said so little. As time went on and he became more comfortable with media duties, the interviews got better and better. Such is the nature of the sport that players move on and there is no exit interview with the local press because as soon as a deal is in the making, a player's output is almost entirely focused on his next thing and his new club.

It would have been nice to sit down and take him back through the years to when he was the youngster sitting in front of us, or towering over us in a post-game interview. It would have been nice to thank him for not leaving me interview-less that time the club forgot they invited me to speak to him at the hotel where kit launch photos were being taken. He was always willing. Take note, Helder Costa. 

To my knowledge none of the current squad have ever taken umbrage at something written in the YEP or said on our podcast. Some have taken a fair bit of criticism and some painful ratings. They might have taken offence, they just haven't complained. In fact no one at Leeds has got their knickers in much of a twist at all since 49ers took over.

They're keenly aware of everything that is being said - there are board members, senior figures and even agents of star players who regularly tune into the podcast and pass on feedback but emotional outbursts are not this regime's way. The club feels calmer. A little bit more put together. Sober. There are no 11.30pm complaints on a Friday night. The working relationship with the YEP has improved.

Farke, like most modern managers, keeps the press at somewhat of a distance. There are moments of connection, sociable chats on pre-season tours or little jokey comments exchanged before or after pressers, but he's all business most of the time. Polite in the extreme, but always either on guard or a consummate professional. Except for the time he physically used me as a champagne shield when accosted by his players in the Elland Road promotion party.

Being present for moments of Leeds United history is not a perk of this job, it's a privilege. That one came thanks to mine and Beren Cross' decision to not stay put where we were authorised to be, in the press room. We went and had a look. That's how you get to add bits of colour to your reporting. No one does colour like Leeds United in full flow. 

Covering Leeds can be all-consuming if you let it [any news Graham etc etc] and there have been times when it has been frustrating or difficult.

Local journalists can be the cat that everyone goes home and kicks after a bad match or amid off-field shenanigans. They can be the last consideration - we travelled all the way to Australia and back without getting a sit-down interview with Marsch, for example.

The night of transfer deadline day chaos and Willy Gnonto's arrival was one of those when the club's phones seemed to stop working and with a print deadline approaching we had to scramble to gather as much intel as was possible from external sources to make an informed decision on what the back page would say. From memory, we got it right. It wasn't the only time calls went unanswered in moments of crisis - the Michael Cuisance debacle stands out too. 

That's the job and just how it is sometimes. In those times and in the best times, having a local press pack full of great humans is so vital. People whose voices you don't hate listening to after midnight in the press room as you bash out the last quotes piece or final words of a midweek match report. People who are equally obsessed and fascinated by this club and its supporters. The Leeds press pack has some of the absolute best within its number.

In seven years covering this club it has not been the match reports or quotes pieces that have sustained me. It certainly hasn't been transfer business. It has been the very real and very personal stories.

Being trusted to tell how Leeds United has played a part in the lives of ordinary people, in the city of Leeds and across the world has meant so much. 

Stories like Bob's. The way the club rallied round the little legend as he fought cancer and how they went above and beyond for his family following his tragic passing.

Stories like Adam Hall's. He was gushing with gratitude for video messages from players the night before he died from his own cancer battle.

Stories like Nigel Chambers'. He watched Leeds United play behind the Iron Curtain after obtaining Stasi permission. Those stories mean the most and will always stick with me because football isn't just a game, it's life. 

The other best bit of the job is getting to watch football. That has always been amazing, whether in the NCEL Premier League or the Premier League proper. But at Elland Road, or at Plymouth, or in Oslo, Dublin, Perth and even in Blackburn where the press food is a crime against human digestion, watching football has been a dream come true.

Each goal has meant so much to so many that you cannot help but recognise their significance. Celebrating is out of the question in any press box but there is a thrill and it is keenly felt.  

Leeds United goals will continue to provide me with a thrill. I consider myself very fortunate to be continuing a fond association with this magnificent, madcap institution.

But my time at the YEP is over. Keeping a seat warm when it was once occupied by the great Don Warters and the legend that is Phillip William Kendall Hay has been a joy and an honour. Long live the YEP and Leeds United.

Thank you for reading, Tweeting, Blueskying, disagreeing, commenting, mocking, encouraging and generally making this job a really fun one.