Nothing remains but the murals.

So it went, with a whimper not a bang as our latest manager sent out 7 defenders in the starting XI, for the game we had to win. 

The last 5 years at Leeds have been an absolute vindication of Marcelo Bielsa’s coaching and playing ethos: a bunch of mid-Championship also rans (consecutive 14^th place finishes), converted through huge amounts of hard work, belief, team effort and a coach who prepared himself and his team, beyond what many would see as reasonable – to almost achieve promotion in his first year, achieve it gloriously in the second season and then beyond everyone’s wildest expectations finished 9^th in the Premiership, with a scorching run of 23 points in the last 10 games.  

Since his sacking and replacement with a clown, a presence that barely registered, then an out and out mercenary, respectively, the team’s fitness and self-belief has plummeted, along with the crowd’s satisfaction – Leeds don’t mind a team that goes down fighting, but the fight has to be there, without that, it feels like a facsimile of a Leeds team, a fake.

And now, without all of those Bielsa trademarks, the players have reverted to their former level – the formidable fitness is gone, they run out of steam after 60 minutes; their belief in themselves and the team is fragile, players who could previously ping around first touch passes weaving exquisite patterns around defenders who found themselves chasing shadows, and moving the game up the pitch towards the opponent’s goal at lightning pace, can no longer be relied to make simple square passes over 20 yards.

The do or die for the team is gone. It has been gone for months.

But it was much more important than the swashbuckling glory of the football on the pitch: it was the ethic. He brought a pride to the club, top to bottom, and hence to the city, who saw that this effort was reaping rewards and courting admiration from around the footballing world. Murals started appearing, there was a spreading of his philosophy beyond the lines of a football pitch – he wanted to do things well and to do them in the right way, with respect for others, with an appreciation of importance of footballers, the club and most importantly the fans – he knitted them together, it became a joint venture, a shared joy, a community.

He believed that football should be beautiful, you win games by scoring more than your opponent (as opposed to stopping them at all costs), the players earned the right under his system to express themselves – ask Pablo Hernandez, Stuart Dallas, Mateus Klich, Raphinha and the rest. Ask Harrison, Ayling and Bamford, spoken of in terms of a national call up at the end of that first season.

Ask Kalvin Philips. A solid but uninspiring midfielder – local lad so he had leeway – until Bielsa got him fitter and built a team around his being deep sitting holding midfield player, almost a sweeper in front of the back four, and foil to Hernandez’s attacking trickery. He made Philips into an international player who was England’s player of the Euro tournament they failed to win on penalties in the final… who moved to warm the bench and pick up medals at Man City.

Now, the club is back in the Championship, just where Marcelo picked them up from.

“If there is something that makes this profession attractive to me, it’s the power to be in contact with the passion of the public. The supporters, the only thing for them is that they love their club. The only thing they receive in exchange is emotion. This is going to be a lovely moment for all of my life. And it was beautiful.” (Bielsa on winning the Championship)