The life of a football manager is uniquely precarious and often thankless. When things are going well, managers receive almost reverential treatment, with phrases such as “club legend” thrown around by supporters over pre-match beers. Songs are written about them, their faces appear on flags and murals, and thousands of people become emotionally invested in someone they have never actually met.
But football has a remarkably short memory. No matter how successful you’ve been or what you’ve achieved in the past, a few months, or sometimes even a few weeks, of poor results can completely change the mood. Modern football is a results-driven business, and managers across the world routinely face the sword when those results stop arriving.
And results are only part of the job. The manager is the public face of the football club, wheeled out to answer difficult questions in press conferences about situations they may know little more about than the journalist asking them. They have owners and executives above them, supporters and their expectations surrounding them, and a dressing room full of personalities and fragile egos to manage below them.
Get your team selection, substitutions or tactics wrong and suddenly you’re “shit” and haven’t got a clue what you’re doing. Lose a few games and opposition supporters are gleefully informing you that you’ll be “sacked in the morning”. Lose a few more and sometimes your own supporters join in. Lose the dressing room and it’s usually the manager clearing out their office, rather than the players who stopped performing for them.
Perhaps that’s what makes the managers who leave a lasting impression so special. The job itself is temporary, but the memories they create don’t have to be. Long after the tactics have been forgotten, the team sheets become irrelevant and even the trophies begin gathering dust, supporters remember how a manager made them feel.
And at Leeds United, we’ve been fortunate enough to have a few who made us feel something pretty special.
The Modern Day
Recent discussions amongst the fanbase have inevitably centred around the argument of who is better between Farke and Bielsa. Rather than accepting that both managers have their own strengths and weaknesses, their own achievements and their own pitfalls, football fans tend to become tribalistic, arguing that one has to be better than the other.
Farke set a club record in the Championship by achieving 100 points. Tell a Bielsa disciple this and they’ll argue that Farke was heavily backed by the 49ers, whereas Bielsa won the Championship title with a group of players who were nothing more than midtable plodders the year before. And had them playing out of their skin. Farke kept us up comfortably in our first season back in the Premier League, whereas Bielsa’s team finished ninth. Farke now has us looking solid and competing with established teams in our second season, while Bielsa laid foundations that the club is still benefiting from today.
The problem is that some supporters become so wedded to one manager that appreciating the other somehow feels like an act of betrayal. It shouldn’t. Leeds United has given us enough misery over the years without turning the men who brought us joy into another reason to argue. Bielsa gave us some of the greatest years of our lives as supporters. Farke has already given us memories of his own. We’re allowed to celebrate both.
The Old Guard
Those same heated debates draw the attention of the old guard who, quite rightly, argue that neither Farke nor Bielsa can stand up to the achievements of Wilko. A man who guided Leeds back to the First Division in 1990, Wilkinson then took the club to a fourth-place finish in their first season back before, remarkably, winning the league title a year later. Leeds United were champions of England for the first time since Don Revie, and remain the last team to win the old First Division before the birth of the Premier League.
Many of the names still revered at Elland Road today were part of Wilkinson’s side: Gordon Strachan, Vinnie Jones, David Batty, Gary McAllister and, of course, the late, great Gary Speed. And Sergeant Wilko’s legacy stretches far beyond the players and trophies. He was instrumental in the development of Thorp Arch, helping to build the foundations of an academy that would later produce the likes of Jonathan Woodgate, Alan Smith, James Milner, Fabian Delph and Archie Gray. More than three decades later, Leeds United are still benefiting from Howard Wilkinson’s vision.
For supporters of a certain generation, there probably isn’t much of a debate to be had. Wilkinson didn’t just get Leeds promoted. He took them from the Second Division to champions of England in the space of three years.
And then there’s Don Revie. I’m far too young to pretend I truly understand what it was like to support Leeds during the Revie years. I know the stories, I’ve watched the footage and I know the honours, but that isn’t the same as having lived through a period when Leeds United went from a relatively unremarkable Second Division club to one of the most feared sides in Europe.
Revie didn’t simply build a successful football team. He helped create much of what we now recognise as Leeds United. Bremner, Charlton, Hunter, Giles, Lorimer, Gray and Madeley aren’t just former players; their names are woven into the identity of the club. The all-white kit, the siege mentality, “Dirty Leeds”, the hatred from elsewhere and that sense of Leeds against the world all became synonymous with a team that supporters across the country either admired or absolutely despised.
And perhaps that’s the greatest testament to Revie. More than half a century later, supporters like me, who never saw one of his Leeds teams kick a ball, have inherited the culture they created. We didn’t live through Don Revie’s Leeds United, but we’re still supporting the club he helped shape.
My Generation
Revie belonged to my grandfather’s generation. Wilkinson belonged to my father’s. Bielsa undoubtedly has his. But for those of us whose formative years supporting Leeds were spent watching the club sink from the Champions League to the third tier of English football, there is another name that will always mean something. A name that is sometimes overlooked despite his own considerable achievements. A name that gave me and countless other Leeds fans something to celebrate, and something to be proud of, for the first time in years.
I’m talking, of course, about Simon Grayson.
By the time Grayson arrived at Elland Road in December 2008, the novelty of Leeds United being in League One had well and truly worn off. We’d already endured relegation, administration, the 15-point deduction and an entire season in the third tier, somehow dragging ourselves to Wembley despite starting on minus 15, only to lose the play-off final to Doncaster Rovers.
The following season was supposed to be different. Instead, Gary McAllister was sacked five days before Christmas after five consecutive defeats, including the infamous FA Cup humiliation at Histon. Leeds United, Champions League semi-finalists less than eight years earlier, were sitting ninth in League One. For any younger supporters wondering why those of us who lived through this era approach every bit of Leeds United success with a lingering sense that something is about to go horribly wrong, now you know. I’m 36 years old, and the Leeds I grew up with was defined by one simple rule: if it can go wrong, it probably will.
The strangest thing was that Leeds still felt enormous. Elland Road was attracting crowds that belonged several divisions higher, and thousands followed the team around the country. All while old Pissypants was reminding us, “if you want Premier League football, you need to pay Premier League prices.” The issue with that, of course, is that we were playing League One football and paying Premier League prices. From the outside, almost everything about Leeds United still looked like a massive football club. Institutionally, however, it had spent years falling apart.
And yet, this wasn’t a squad devoid of talent. Jermaine Beckford was scoring goals for fun. Luciano Becchio had arrived from Spain. Robert Snodgrass was beginning to establish himself, while Fabian Delph and Jonny Howson represented an exciting generation coming through the club.
Grayson didn’t inherit Leeds United at their lowest point. He inherited a club in danger of becoming accustomed to being there. And he desperately wanted the opportunity to change that. He was managing Blackpool when Leeds came calling, but getting him out of Bloomfield Road proved rather more complicated than simply agreeing compensation. Blackpool initially refused Leeds permission to speak to their manager. Grayson, a Yorkshireman who had started his playing career at Leeds, responded by resigning. Blackpool refused to accept his resignation and threatened legal action when Leeds appointed him anyway. If there was ever any doubt about how badly Simon Grayson wanted the Leeds United job, there was your answer.
And, for me personally, the Grayson years carry another significance. It was under him that I made my first journey from Ireland to Elland Road to watch Leeds United at home.
Barcelona? Real Madrid? Manchester United? Unfortunately, none of these.
Leyton Orient.
Sexy, right? To me, it was.
The Journey
If the 2008/09 season had given Leeds supporters another dose of familiar disappointment, the following year initially felt very different. This was no longer a team trying to recover from a bad start or sneak into the play-offs. Grayson had built a side that looked ready to finally get out of League One. And for the first half of the season, Leeds were relentless.
The expectation that had weighed so heavily on previous teams suddenly appeared to be driving this one. Jermaine Beckford continued scoring goals for fun, Luciano Becchio provided the perfect partner alongside him, Robert Snodgrass was developing into one of the best players at the level and Jonny Howson was becoming increasingly important in midfield.
For the first time since we’d dropped into League One, promotion didn’t feel like something we desperately hoped might happen. It felt inevitable.
And then, somehow, a season that was supposed to be about escaping the third tier gave us one of the greatest days in the modern history of Leeds United. January 3rd. Old Trafford. Leeds travelled across the Pennines to face the reigning Premier League champions in the third round of the FA Cup. There were 42 league places separating the two clubs. Manchester United hadn’t lost an FA Cup third-round tie under Alex Ferguson. Leeds hadn’t won at Old Trafford since 1981.
None of it mattered.
Jonny Howson picked up the ball inside his own half and played a beautiful pass over the Manchester United defence. Beckford got in front of Wes Brown, stretched out his right foot and poked the ball beyond Tomasz Kuszczak. You know the rest.
Manchester United 0-1 Leeds United.
After everything we’d endured over the previous few years — the financial collapse, relegations, administration, points deductions, Wembley heartbreak and fucking Histon — Leeds United went to Old Trafford as a League One club and beat Manchester United. It wasn’t promotion. It didn’t get us out of League One. In the grand scheme of the season, it didn’t actually achieve anything tangible.
But Christ, it meant something. It meant everything.
And because this was Leeds United, even one of our greatest days in years couldn’t be allowed to exist without some chaos bubbling away beneath the surface. The man who scored the winner at Old Trafford had already handed in a transfer request. Beckford’s contract was due to expire at the end of the season and, with Championship leaders Newcastle United interested in signing him, his future suddenly became one of the biggest stories surrounding the club. Leeds confirmed after the Manchester United victory that Beckford had submitted his request on December 30. Less than three weeks later, however, he withdrew it and committed himself to seeing out the season at Elland Road.
The FA Cup adventure wasn’t finished either. Three weeks after beating Manchester United, Leeds travelled to White Hart Lane and went toe-to-toe with Tottenham Hotspur. Twice Leeds fell behind. Twice Beckford equalised, the second coming from the penalty spot deep into stoppage time to earn a 2-2 draw and another famous result against Premier League opposition.
For a brief period, Leeds United seemed more comfortable playing against Premier League teams than they did against the teams they actually needed to beat. And therein lay the problem. While the cup run was giving supporters memories that would last for years, the league form that had made promotion look inevitable began to disappear. The Leeds side that had spent the first half of the campaign relentlessly collecting points suddenly started dropping them. A draw at home to Wycombe was followed by defeat at Exeter. There was a 3-0 defeat at Swindon. More points disappeared against Hartlepool and Leyton Orient.
The swagger was disappearing. Norwich had gathered momentum and surged past us. Millwall were closing in. What had once looked like a procession towards automatic promotion was beginning to look horrifyingly familiar. Every Leeds supporter knows the feeling. There were flashes that suggested everything would be fine, followed almost immediately by another result that suggested it absolutely fucking wouldn’t be. The pressure grew, the gap disappeared and a season that had contained one of the greatest results in the club’s recent history was suddenly in danger of ending in another play-off campaign. After everything we’d already experienced in League One, the thought of going through that again was unbearable.
And so, inevitably, it came down to the final day.
Bristol Rovers at Elland Road.
Almost 40,000 Leeds supporters packed into the stadium knowing that victory would finally end three years of League One football. I watched on the dodgiest of streams at home in Ireland, with Gillette Soccer Saturday on in the background. Charlie Nicholas was reporting on our game. All Leeds had to do was win.
Simple.
Except this is Leeds United we’re talking about. Max Gradel was sent off. Bristol Rovers scored shortly afterwards. Ten-man Leeds were 1-0 down and, after spending much of the season looking destined for promotion, were suddenly staring at the possibility of throwing it away on the final afternoon.
Of course we were.
Then came Jonny Howson. His equaliser changed everything. Elland Road suddenly believed again and, eight minutes later, the entire season seemed to come full circle. Jermaine Beckford. The man who had scored at Old Trafford. The man who had handed in a transfer request. The man whose future had dominated the January transfer window. The man who had spent the season scoring the goals that kept Leeds moving towards the Championship. With one of his final touches in a Leeds United shirt at Elland Road, Beckford scored the goal that sent us there.
Leeds United 2-1 Bristol Rovers.
Pandemonium.
Promotion.
Finally.
Leeds finished second on 86 points, just one ahead of Millwall. After 46 games, all the brilliance and all the rest, the difference between automatic promotion and another trip into the play-offs was a single point. Looking back, perhaps it couldn’t have happened any other way. It would have been easier if Leeds had simply continued the form of the first half of the season, wrapped promotion up with weeks to spare and allowed everyone to enjoy the final few games without needing a defibrillator nearby. But that wouldn’t have been Leeds.
Instead, Grayson’s first full season gave us Old Trafford, White Hart Lane, a transfer saga involving our best striker, a collapse that threatened to undo everything and, finally, one afternoon of absolute madness at Elland Road. There have been better Leeds teams since. There have been better seasons. We’ve won two Championship titles and returned to the Premier League.
But you never forget the manager who finally stopped the bleeding. Grayson inherited a club that was becoming accustomed to life in the third tier. Eighteen months later, Leeds United were a Championship club again.
And for those of us who had grown up watching almost everything that could possibly go wrong at Leeds United eventually do exactly that, Simon Grayson had finally given us something we’d been waiting years for.
Something to celebrate.
In Conversation With… Simon Grayson
1. As a Leeds fan yourself, what went through your mind when the club called to appoint you? Did you immediately see it as the opportunity of a lifetime, or did you appreciate just how enormous the challenge would be?
I saw it as a massive opportunity professionally, as Leeds are a massive football club with huge history. But personally, the chance to manage the team I supported was too good to turn down.
2. Leeds were in League One, but the expectation from supporters was still that the club should be winning every single week. How difficult was it to manage those expectations while trying to rebuild a team?
I don’t mind managing clubs with high expectations, as it motivates you, keeps you on your toes all the time and pushes you. My character is to not get too high or too low with results, which I think helps with expectations.
3. For many Leeds supporters of my generation, the FA Cup win at Old Trafford and the promotion-clinching victory over Bristol Rovers were the first genuinely joyous moments we’d experienced following the club. Looking back now, what are your strongest memories of those days, and when did you realise what you and the players had achieved?
Obviously, both were incredible days. The Man Utd game was a one-off, but to beat them was so special given the rivalry and how good they were at that moment.
The Bristol Rovers game was probably the most important one, as we had to get out of League One. So, it rounded off nine months of hard work and, to do it like we did, it was worth the rollercoaster ride of that day.
4. Jermaine Beckford scored goals for fun under your management. What made him so difficult for defenders to handle, and did you ever feel he was underrated outside Leeds because he came through non-league football?
Jermaine just had a knack for scoring goals. He was an instinctive forward who could score different types of goals. His speed was a big factor, but to be able to score goals from nothing made him a great player who I don’t think was underestimated by people, even though he had come from non-league football.
5. Managers are often judged by trophies, but your Leeds side restored belief to a club that had lost its way. Looking back now, what do you hope Leeds supporters remember most about your time at Elland Road?
All I wanted to do was make sure my team gave everything for the badge and club every game, win, lose or draw. I wanted my team to reflect what the Leeds fans and the city wanted. Things like passion, desire and entertainment were a few of the words I would use. Hopefully, my team did all of these.
6. I’ve seen jokes online that the fabled “Simon’s Warchest” has finally been found. Watching Leeds today under the 49ers, what pleases you most about the direction the club is heading, and does it feel like Leeds United has finally regained the stability it was searching for during your time as manager?
The current owners seem very steady and don’t make rash decisions, which has happened previously at the club. This calmness is needed in football, especially in difficult times.
The club is building good foundations for, hopefully, Premier League football for many years to come, where we don’t become a yo-yo club. The expansion of the ground highlights that even more so.
7. If you could relive one moment from your time as Leeds United manager — not to change it, simply to experience it again — which moment would you choose, and why?
Making my debut as a player and signing as the manager again. These moments are still cherished, but it would be nice to go through all the excitement and pride again. Obviously, the two games mentioned previously would be great to go through again.
8. Managers rarely get the chance to hear what certain moments meant to supporters. Is there a message you’d like to leave for the generation of Leeds fans who experienced their first success under your management?
Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did, and hopefully I did you proud.
Writer’s Note: This interview with Simon Grayson was conducted in early August, when World After The Bell was still very much in its infancy. I’m incredibly grateful to Simon for giving up his time to speak to me and for supporting the site at such an early stage.
Simon has recently announced the launch of the Simon Grayson Football Academy alongside his son, Joe. If you’d like to support them, please do go and check it out. I wish Simon and Joe every success with the academy.
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