Yes, we failed to break our Wembley duck for the fourth successive occasion since an Eric Cantona hat trick won us the 1992 FA Charity Shield in a 4-3 victory over Liverpool. Yes, we were outclassed in the first half thanks largely to the five back formation that Daniel Farke decided to start with and off days by Ao Tanaka and Ethan Ampadou in particular.
Yet the statistic that I have just given should indicate just what a momentous occasion this was for Leeds United Football Club. For this was our first appearance in an FA Cup semi-final in 39 years, since a thrilling 3-2 defeat to Coventry City at Hillsborough in which we were just 24 minutes from reaching what should be the only club fixture reserved for Wembley – the Cup Final. I cannot help but feel that we would have had a better chance at a ground like Villa Park or Old Trafford which are shorter in pitch dimensions and less of a psychological occasion than Wembley.
But this really was an occasion pregnant with history, both club and personal. It took place on the 34th anniversary of the achievement of our last major honour – the old First Division Championship on Sunday 26th April 1992 which has earned us, in the words of the music journalist and author Dave Simpson, The Last Champions. It was a reprise of, and another opportunity for Leeds to gain revenge in a Cup tie for one of the many injustices suffered by Don Revie’s Legends – the 2-1 defeat in the 1970 FA Cup Final replay by Chelsea at Old Trafford. Played in front of a then record tv audience of 26 million, this match was perhaps the emblem of the brutality of 60s and 70s English football as feuds developed over the years were played out in technicolour savagery with virtually no intervention by the referee for whom, in the words of the legendary sports writer Hugh MacIlvaney, “only the production of a death certificate” would have been grounds for a booking, a sanction that that was only imposed on two occasions.
But this really was an occasion pregnant with history, both club and personal. It took place on the 34th anniversary of the achievement of our last major honour – the old First Division Championship on Sunday 26th April 1992 which has earned us, in the words of the music journalist and author Dave Simpson, The Last Champions. It was a reprise of, and another opportunity for Leeds to gain revenge in a Cup tie for one of the many injustices suffered by Don Revie’s Legends – the 2-1 defeat in the 1970 FA Cup Final replay by Chelsea at Old Trafford. Played in front of a then record tv audience of 26 million, this match was perhaps the emblem of the brutality of 60s and 70s English football as feuds developed over the years were played out in technicolour savagery with virtually no intervention by the referee for whom, in the words of the legendary sports writer Hugh MacIlvaney, “only the production of a death certificate” would have been grounds for a booking, a sanction that that was only imposed on two occasions.
A contemporary Premier League referee would have dished out seven red cards to Chelsea and four to Leeds; with Chelsea defender Eddie McCreadie being sent off twice. Two incidents remain seared in the memories of Leeds fans of that vintage; the scything down of Eddie Gray who had virtually conducted proceedings in the drawn Wembley match with virtuoso wing play by Ron “Chopper” Harris and a high kick on Billy Bremner by Eddie McCreadie in the penalty area near the end of normal time (Chelsea got their winner in extra time). Not that Leeds were shrinking violets. A cynical barge on Chelsea keeper Peter Bonetti early doors may have hobbled him sufficiently to prevent Mick Jones’s mazy opener for Leeds.
This match established a specifically football related hatred among Leeds fans of Chelsea to be, as all tribal feuds are, handed down the generations though cultural factors such as the London media’s adoration of the King’s Road fashion style association in contrast to the gritty Northern character of Don Revie’s side which they loathed. The rivalry was to be fought out on terraces and service stations throughout the 1970s and 1980s by their respective hooligan firm; the Chelsea Head hunters and the Leeds Service Crew with a particularly infamous denouement at the end of the 1983-84 season at Stamford Bridge when after a 5-0 victory had secured promotion for the home side, Leeds fans charged across the pitch to take apart and smash their scoreboard. Historical antagonisms were to be exacerbated by the controversial stewardship of Leeds by former Chelsea Chairman Ken Bates in the same capacity between 2005 and 2013 who had publicly nursed a desire to have Leeds expelled from the Football League over the Scoreboard incident and his presiding over our first ever relegation to the third tier of English football, the placing of the club into administration and a subsequent 15 points deduction for exiting administration without following insolvency procedures did feed conspiracy theories about his intentions. Master Bates was a thoroughly toxic influence on the club.
The 1970 Cup Final was my introduction to and initiation into the, as our club anthem Marching on Together, the “ups and downs”, with rather more of the latter, of the life of a Leeds United supporter. As the club went into its post Paris 75 robbery decline, the excitement of following Northern Ireland’s two World Cup Final tournaments in the 1980s partially displaced loyalties to a club which suffered relegation in 1982, and which developed a particular reputation for the thuggery and racism of more than a small minority of its following. However the semifinal run in 1987 and another near thing when promotion to the Old First Division was snatched from our grasp in extra time of a play-off final replay against Charlton Athletic who came back from a John Sheridan free kick classic to win 2-1 (the Russian Roulette torture mechanism of the Penalty Shoot Out had yet to be introduced into domestic competitions yet) rekindled the fires of a dormant passion. I became a born-again Leeds United fan; the year I became a self-imposed exile from Northern Ireland.
But now let me move from the future past to the future present. We actually started the brighter side and almost took the lead when a flick on from Dominic Calvert-Lewin presented Brenden Aaronson with a glorious opportunity, but his well-aimed shot was brilliantly saved by Chelsea keeper Sanchez. Had Norah Okafor opted to slot the ball through to an attendant Calvert-Lewin in the box rather than draw out a freekick which Tanaka disappointingly fluffed then we may have had another gilt-edged chance to score.
The 1970 Cup Final was my introduction to and initiation into the, as our club anthem Marching on Together, the “ups and downs”, with rather more of the latter, of the life of a Leeds United supporter. As the club went into its post Paris 75 robbery decline, the excitement of following Northern Ireland’s two World Cup Final tournaments in the 1980s partially displaced loyalties to a club which suffered relegation in 1982, and which developed a particular reputation for the thuggery and racism of more than a small minority of its following. However the semifinal run in 1987 and another near thing when promotion to the Old First Division was snatched from our grasp in extra time of a play-off final replay against Charlton Athletic who came back from a John Sheridan free kick classic to win 2-1 (the Russian Roulette torture mechanism of the Penalty Shoot Out had yet to be introduced into domestic competitions yet) rekindled the fires of a dormant passion. I became a born-again Leeds United fan; the year I became a self-imposed exile from Northern Ireland.
But now let me move from the future past to the future present. We actually started the brighter side and almost took the lead when a flick on from Dominic Calvert-Lewin presented Brenden Aaronson with a glorious opportunity, but his well-aimed shot was brilliantly saved by Chelsea keeper Sanchez. Had Norah Okafor opted to slot the ball through to an attendant Calvert-Lewin in the box rather than draw out a freekick which Tanaka disappointingly fluffed then we may have had another gilt-edged chance to score.
But Chelsea, playing under caretaker boss Rob McFarlane - after the virtual refusal of their team to play for “supply teacher” Liam Rosenior led to their worst since 1911 of five defeats on the bounce and five clean sheets up front and the departure of the hapless Liam - soon asserted control as the law of the new manger bounce dictates. The malfunctioning of usually solid midfield partnership of captain Ampadou and Tanaka attracted the attention of Steven Gerrard making his debut as an analyst alongside Darren Fletcher and Ally McCoist in the TNT commentary box, and it was no surprise when Chelsea took the lead in the 23rd minute with a glorious header by Enzo Fernandez on his return to the side after being dropped for the last two games by Rosenior, after a pin point cross by Pedro Neto. I was frankly relieved that we went into the half-time interval just the one goal in arears.
The case for a change in formation was unanswerable and, as he showed at that crucial juncture at half-time at the Etihad in late November, Leeds manger Daniel Farke again displayed his tactical nous and flexibility by bringing on Anton Stach and Joe Rodon in place of Sebastien Bjiol and James Justin for the second half. It nearly paid immediate dividends as a fierce top corner bound pile driver was tipped over by Sanchez. Now a rejuvenated midfield and wing back pairings were really getting into their groove, and further chances came the way of Calvert-Lewin, but both efforts were dealt with relatively comfortably by Sanchez.
The case for a change in formation was unanswerable and, as he showed at that crucial juncture at half-time at the Etihad in late November, Leeds manger Daniel Farke again displayed his tactical nous and flexibility by bringing on Anton Stach and Joe Rodon in place of Sebastien Bjiol and James Justin for the second half. It nearly paid immediate dividends as a fierce top corner bound pile driver was tipped over by Sanchez. Now a rejuvenated midfield and wing back pairings were really getting into their groove, and further chances came the way of Calvert-Lewin, but both efforts were dealt with relatively comfortably by Sanchez.
It has to be pointed out that, despite the volume of well merited praise that has come DCL’s way, he has only scored once in open play in his last 18 games, and this statistic underlines the absolute necessity for Leeds to sign a younger, hungrier, and proven goal scoring forward in this summer’s transfer window. Gnonto and Nmencha came on to inject extra pace up front but there was a growing inevitability to the ultimate outcome; that we had seen this movie before. Controversy was injected into the proceedings by an increasingly common and egregious act of gamesmanship when Sanchez on the advice of a teammate sank to the ground with a phantom bout of cramp/muscle strain/thigh injury in order to enable an informal coaching session on the pitch. When Sanchez rose to the grounds in no apparent physical distress it triggered on field player confrontations and a chorus of boos from the 32,000 Leeds fans in attendance.
Such manoeuvres are clearly contrary to the laws of the game but the reluctance of referees to clamp down on these acts of, frankly, cheating are the cause of much fan outrage. Pep Guardiola employed similar dark arts during the Ramadan break at Elland Road in February with the successful aim in disrupting our rhythm. Such offences may not rank on the scales of criminality of a Ron Harris or an Eddie McCreadie but are becoming associated with the modern Chelsea and other ‘elite clubs’ for whom the normal rules of sporting probity on the pitch and financial probity seem to apply on an a la carte basis.
And so it was. A Wembley hoodoo remains uncracked, but it does not have to be a monkey on our collective shoulders. In what was more of a Premier League fixture than the genuine Cup atmosphere of the other Cup semi-final when for three magical minutes Championship Southampton dreamed of beating Manchester City after an exquisite 20 yard strike by Irish international Finn Azaz in the 79th minute and reaching the Final for only the second time since their victory also as a second tier side over Manchester United half a century ago in 1976. As it turned out, a cruelly deflected strike by Doku and a sensational long-range goal by Nico Gonzalez sent City to their fourth Cup Final in a row.
Defeat in a Cup semi-final always used to be seen as the most bitterly disappointing of all football experiences. As an attendee of two play-off final defeats and tv viewer of one other and two semi-final defeats, I can testify to the crushing, numbing devastation of these defeats. No such distress was, for me, attached, to Sunday’s loss. We again showed we are, as a promoted club, competitive at Premier League level. We now have to secure our topflight place by beating relegated Burnley at home on Friday night and then getting perhaps another point in the remaining three games after that. Then we can build a squad that can make use more of a permanent fixture in the Premiership and finally lay that Wembley hoodoo to rest.
Marching on Together.
And so it was. A Wembley hoodoo remains uncracked, but it does not have to be a monkey on our collective shoulders. In what was more of a Premier League fixture than the genuine Cup atmosphere of the other Cup semi-final when for three magical minutes Championship Southampton dreamed of beating Manchester City after an exquisite 20 yard strike by Irish international Finn Azaz in the 79th minute and reaching the Final for only the second time since their victory also as a second tier side over Manchester United half a century ago in 1976. As it turned out, a cruelly deflected strike by Doku and a sensational long-range goal by Nico Gonzalez sent City to their fourth Cup Final in a row.
Defeat in a Cup semi-final always used to be seen as the most bitterly disappointing of all football experiences. As an attendee of two play-off final defeats and tv viewer of one other and two semi-final defeats, I can testify to the crushing, numbing devastation of these defeats. No such distress was, for me, attached, to Sunday’s loss. We again showed we are, as a promoted club, competitive at Premier League level. We now have to secure our topflight place by beating relegated Burnley at home on Friday night and then getting perhaps another point in the remaining three games after that. Then we can build a squad that can make use more of a permanent fixture in the Premiership and finally lay that Wembley hoodoo to rest.
Marching on Together.
⏩Barry Gilheany is a freelance writer, qualified counsellor and aspirant artist resident in Colchester where he took his PhD at the University of Essex. He is also a lifelong Leeds United supporter.
No comments