Barry Gilheany ⚽ Was it pressure from being installed marginal favourites for the fixture that all Leeds United look out for but may also secretly dread – home to fallen Premier League giants Manchester United on Sunday just gone 2pm kick-off? 

Was it the fear or expectation that the Manchester United outfit that has performed so dreadfully this season would actually turn up and achieve some sort of redemptive result? Or was it school day memories of the consequences of defeat in this horrible fixture? Whatever the reason and, with my therapeutic hat on, it is most likely to be the latter explanatory factor, I watched Sunday’s encounter with my insides taut with tension and anxiety just as I had felt the previous night. 

Promotion or the avoidance of relegation was not on the agenda; we have made a decent start to the season and are confidently expected by most pundits to move on from last season’s 14th place finish towards possibly a European competition qualifying position. By contrast the long running soap opera to rival the one next door to Old Trafford (Coronation Street in neighbouring Salford for those totally unacquainted with such icons of British popular culture) that is Manchester United has taken up a mini forest of column inches in the sporting press with no little schadenfreude. In the words of Barney Ronay, the incompetence of Manchester United’s top brass is of the character of:

one of those high street legacy chain shops just before it collapses, piles of Quality Street by the door a rat in the lingerie department, destined to become a pop-up vape shop run by Albanian money launderers.[1] 

Regardless of the result yesterday, the United from across the Pennines were always going to be the story. They have made the worst start to a season for forty years; forty years ago in 1986 they turned to an ambitious Scottish manager named Alex Ferguson to reclaim the glory years presided over by another West of Scotland footballing icon, Matt Busby. With the extinction of the coalfields of Scotland and the near extinction of the shipbuilding industries and the soccer cultures associated with both, it is hard to see them turning to another patriarch hewn in the Lanarkshire coalmines as Matt Busby was or the Govan shipyards which was the making of Alex Ferguson and who both became peers of the realm. With the open dissent expressed this week by Lissandro Martinez against the recruitment of Jason Wilcox (who played a bit part role in the rise and spectacular fall of Leeds under Peter Ridsdale) as Director of Football at Old Trafford, it has been truly Manchester Dis-United.

And yet the pit of anxiety ran deep in my stomach just as it was when we were negotiating our path back to the Premier League in 2024-25 and our survival the following season. For the truth is that Leeds United v Manchester United is a bitter and toxic fixture that develop its venom in the 1960s and has persisted through eras of contrasting fortunes for both Uniteds. For 25 of the seasons since I became a Leeds supporter we were not even in the same division thanks to relegation (Manchester suffered that fate for one season only in 1974-75). Yet every home fixture of both sides was soundtracked to the chants of “We all hate Leeds scum” at Old Trafford and simply “Scum” at Elland Road. Elements of both sets of supporters descended to the level of the gutter with “tragedy chanting,” the “Munich 1958” song commemorating the destruction of the Busby Babes in the airplane crash in Munich in 1958 spewed out at Elland Road was matched by ditties such as “Always look for Turks brandishing knives” in reference to the fatal stabbing of two Leeds supporters in Istanbul in April 2000 prior to a UEFA Cup semi-final first leg contest with Galatasaray.

But why does this fixture take up so much headspace among the rival sets of fans? What is the historical and geographic logic behind it? It lacks the ethno-religious dimensions of the Old Firm derby in Glasgow (which used to characterise the Merseyside derby); the historical resonance of the El Classico fixture between Real Madrid and Barcelona. There is not the geographical proximity and the economic rivalries underpinning the Liverpool v Manchester United animus. It has none of the intimate, visceral bitterness of the Tyne-Wear derby between Newcastle United and Sunderland (which descends from the opposite sides that both towns took in the English Civil War) or the South Coast derby between Portsmouth and Southampton (which has its roots in a seamen’s strike in the 1950s). It is hardly a war of the roses either between Yorkshire and Lancashire as the location of Old Trafford gravitates more to Cheshire. It cannot be traced to one specific game such as the 1970 FA Cup Final replay between Chelsea and Leeds which bequeathed Leeds’s fans second most bitter hatred.

The answer is probably to be found in the footballing cultures of the 1960s and 1970s, on the pitch, on the terraces and in the media coverage of football. Some observers date the rivalry to the signing of midfield maestro John Giles by Don Revie from the Old Trafford club in 1963 when Leeds were still in the old Second Division. In Leeds’s first season in the top flight in 1964-65; Revie’s charges went toe-to-toe with Manchester United who were the eventual winners of the League title but gained some measure of compensation in victory over their erstwhile rivals in the FA Cup semi-final after two bruising encounters settled by a late goal by Billy Bremner in the replay. 

Leeds’s physical style of football, though by no means an outlier for the time, and the frequent accusations of gamesmanship levelled at the club ensured that they had no shortage of keen rivals. By contrast Manchester United were, in the perceptions of Leeds fans, held up by the print media as the embodiment of the club that could do no wrong. Still riding the crest of waves of national sympathy after the Munich tragedy, the Holy Trinity of Best, Law, and Charlton brought to the Red Devils a mixture of panache, swashbuckling excitement, and class. George Best as the Fifth Beatle brought glamour and celebrity; sexy football before Ruud Gullit coined the phrase. Their zenith was reached with the winning of the European Cup in 1968. The contrast with the supposed dour, mechanical (dare I say anti-football) character of the upstarts from Yorkshire was held up and Leeds fans had their noses metaphorically rubbed in the moniker of Dirty Leeds; a meme which never seems to lose its durability down the generations.

Survivors of the Busby regime at Old Trafford such as Pat Crerand recall respect being shown to the growing force that was Leeds United but never affection as Don Revie’s earlier teams did not go out of their way to make friends and influence people because of their alleged aggression and meanness. However as Man U’s star waned after their European Cup, that of Leeds United rose with two League titles, one FA Cup, one League Cup and two Inter Cities Fairs Cup trophies plus three League runners up positions, two other Cup Final appearances, Cup Winners Cup final appearance and European Cup semi-final appearance in the period 1968-74 when the Stretford Enders were nosediving to the indignity of relegation by 1974. 

From 1969 terrace battles were to be a regular occurrence as true enmity was born and both clubs’ fanbase attracted notorious hooligan fringes in the 1970s. My fellow TPQ columnist Caoimhin O’Muraile recalls frequent school fights between fans of both clubs. With the departure of Don Revie to take up an ill-fated appointment as England manager and the monstrous injustice that was our defeat in the 1975 European Cup Final recalled so vividly and starkly in the documentary film Paris 75 the star of Leeds United similarly faded and unlike the other United relegation when it came in 1982 came with an eight-season period of exile. The double sale of Scottish internationals Joe Jordan and Gordon McQueen to that lot across the Pennines in the middle of the 1977-78 season came as particularly bitter blows to Leeds fans and provided glaring evidence of the club’s lack of real ambition. More defectors were to be added to this roll of dishonour in the decades ahead.

With the return of Leeds United to the big time in 1990 under Howard Wilkinson, the cross-Pennines rivalry was renewed with an intensity that shook even Alex Ferguson who from his participation in Old Firm derbies as a Rangers player in the 1960s presumably would have known a thing or two about the animosity involved in club rivalries. The point of maximum ecstasy for Leeds United fans was reached in 1992 by becoming the Last Champions (the last winners of the old Football League Championship before the dawn of Planet Premier League) at the expense of Manchester United whose Devon Lock like collapse in the home strait led to us winning the title with a game to spare. A talismanic presence in that team was the enigmatic French forward Eric Cantona who Wilkinson had signed as an emergency replacement for injured forward Lee Chapman. Fully cognisant of the risks of signing a free spirit with a history of clashing with football authority figures, he looked to have signed at £1m the bargain of the season as Leeds fans formed an almost sexualised relationship with this Gallic force of nature who from the top of the open top bus proclaimed to the citizenry of Leeds during our title celebrations “I don’t know why, but I love you”. 

The sense of betrayal was all the more acute when just six months, after a casual inquiry from Sir Alex about the availability of another Leeds player, Howard sold him to them for the paltry figure of £1.1m. Season after season salt would be rubbed into this open wound for Leeds fans as Cantona became key to Man U’s dominance of domestic football in the 1990s winning four Premier League titles and two FA Cups before sailing off into the sunset in 1997 aged just 31.

A decade later at the turn of the millennium Leeds again looked poised to mount a serious challenge to Manchester United’s dominance with the full flowering of the crop of the 1997 FA Youth Cup winning squad who were unleashed onto the Premier League and European competition. It seemed only a matter of time before the trophy cabinet at Elland Road would be replenished season after season. However the collapse of the house of cards in the wake of two successive failures to qualify for the Champions League and the consequent ensnarement of Leeds United in a vortex of debts and unsustainable financial commitments as a result of the catastrophic management by the PLC board that ran the club led to the sale of the only assets that a club has – players. The biggest name in the Dutch auction that followed was Rio Ferdinand, signed for a club record fee for a defender at £19m from West Ham in November 2000 and then sold for another record fee for a defender £30m; this time again to our nemesis - and once again our export would be central to a third decade of Man United dominance. Our descent into relegation (and near extinction) was book ended by the sale of local lad Alan Smith who was the beating heart of the O’Leary Babes squad to, guess where, Manchester United for £7m overnight, becoming Public Enemy No. 1 in Leeds; the latest entry into the rogues gallery of defectors never mind the economic rationale behind these sales – considerations which football emotions override by default.

Now to Sunday’s proceedings. To their credit, they effectively deployed a 3-4-3 formation which largely thwarted our attack apart from one downward header by Swiss defender Nico Elvedi which was palmed away by Man U keeper Lammens. The opposition were winning two thirds of individual duels, and their quick breaks were sounding alarm bells in the home defence. It came as no surprise when after fluffing a header in acres of space near the goal, Bryan Mbeumo gave the visitors the lead in the 34th minute from a cross by the Belgian Diallo. A typically spiky encounter saw some juicy tackles which had a stricter official than Darren England been in charge could have seen two yellow cards leading to red for Leeds captain Ethan Ampadou, Swedish defender Gudmundsson, and Man United’s Santos and Baleba.

But come the second half total change as Leeds really came out of the traps. By the 53rd minute, we were level thanks to a seemingly well-rehearsed set piece moved in which Bosnian defender Muharamovic flicked on a corner to Dominic Calvert-Lewin who outmuscled Mbeumo to deftly trap the ball and pivot to score from close range. Now there was only one United in town and had Tanaka and Stach shown more composure in the penalty with their shooting boots, we would have gone ahead. Manchester did respond with some breakaway attacks but with no serious end product. Leeds kept forcing the pace of the game and almost forced a winner in stoppage time against a Man U defence lacking the composure they showed in the first half.

The general consensus is that a draw was a fair result. It is a sign of the progress that we have made since our return to the Premiership that Daniel Farke expressed some disappointment that we had not got all three points while acknowledging that one point was a satisfactory outcome. For besieged Man Utd manager Michael Carrick this result should buy some time until the next Spurs and Fulham type performance. But at the full time whistle I was still breathing heavily to relieve the tension in my system. There certainly is a market for a fan podcast run by Paul known as “Leeds Therapy.”

Marching on Together

References

[1] Barney Ronay Analysis Managerial magic bullet merchants are derailing the United supremacy The Guardian 19 October 2026 p.41

⏩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. 

Leeds United 1⚽ Manchester United 1 ⚽ Sunday 18 October 2026

Barry Gilheany ⚽ Was it pressure from being installed marginal favourites for the fixture that all Leeds United look out for but may also secretly dread – home to fallen Premier League giants Manchester United on Sunday just gone 2pm kick-off? 

Was it the fear or expectation that the Manchester United outfit that has performed so dreadfully this season would actually turn up and achieve some sort of redemptive result? Or was it school day memories of the consequences of defeat in this horrible fixture? Whatever the reason and, with my therapeutic hat on, it is most likely to be the latter explanatory factor, I watched Sunday’s encounter with my insides taut with tension and anxiety just as I had felt the previous night. 

Promotion or the avoidance of relegation was not on the agenda; we have made a decent start to the season and are confidently expected by most pundits to move on from last season’s 14th place finish towards possibly a European competition qualifying position. By contrast the long running soap opera to rival the one next door to Old Trafford (Coronation Street in neighbouring Salford for those totally unacquainted with such icons of British popular culture) that is Manchester United has taken up a mini forest of column inches in the sporting press with no little schadenfreude. In the words of Barney Ronay, the incompetence of Manchester United’s top brass is of the character of:

one of those high street legacy chain shops just before it collapses, piles of Quality Street by the door a rat in the lingerie department, destined to become a pop-up vape shop run by Albanian money launderers.[1] 

Regardless of the result yesterday, the United from across the Pennines were always going to be the story. They have made the worst start to a season for forty years; forty years ago in 1986 they turned to an ambitious Scottish manager named Alex Ferguson to reclaim the glory years presided over by another West of Scotland footballing icon, Matt Busby. With the extinction of the coalfields of Scotland and the near extinction of the shipbuilding industries and the soccer cultures associated with both, it is hard to see them turning to another patriarch hewn in the Lanarkshire coalmines as Matt Busby was or the Govan shipyards which was the making of Alex Ferguson and who both became peers of the realm. With the open dissent expressed this week by Lissandro Martinez against the recruitment of Jason Wilcox (who played a bit part role in the rise and spectacular fall of Leeds under Peter Ridsdale) as Director of Football at Old Trafford, it has been truly Manchester Dis-United.

And yet the pit of anxiety ran deep in my stomach just as it was when we were negotiating our path back to the Premier League in 2024-25 and our survival the following season. For the truth is that Leeds United v Manchester United is a bitter and toxic fixture that develop its venom in the 1960s and has persisted through eras of contrasting fortunes for both Uniteds. For 25 of the seasons since I became a Leeds supporter we were not even in the same division thanks to relegation (Manchester suffered that fate for one season only in 1974-75). Yet every home fixture of both sides was soundtracked to the chants of “We all hate Leeds scum” at Old Trafford and simply “Scum” at Elland Road. Elements of both sets of supporters descended to the level of the gutter with “tragedy chanting,” the “Munich 1958” song commemorating the destruction of the Busby Babes in the airplane crash in Munich in 1958 spewed out at Elland Road was matched by ditties such as “Always look for Turks brandishing knives” in reference to the fatal stabbing of two Leeds supporters in Istanbul in April 2000 prior to a UEFA Cup semi-final first leg contest with Galatasaray.

But why does this fixture take up so much headspace among the rival sets of fans? What is the historical and geographic logic behind it? It lacks the ethno-religious dimensions of the Old Firm derby in Glasgow (which used to characterise the Merseyside derby); the historical resonance of the El Classico fixture between Real Madrid and Barcelona. There is not the geographical proximity and the economic rivalries underpinning the Liverpool v Manchester United animus. It has none of the intimate, visceral bitterness of the Tyne-Wear derby between Newcastle United and Sunderland (which descends from the opposite sides that both towns took in the English Civil War) or the South Coast derby between Portsmouth and Southampton (which has its roots in a seamen’s strike in the 1950s). It is hardly a war of the roses either between Yorkshire and Lancashire as the location of Old Trafford gravitates more to Cheshire. It cannot be traced to one specific game such as the 1970 FA Cup Final replay between Chelsea and Leeds which bequeathed Leeds’s fans second most bitter hatred.

The answer is probably to be found in the footballing cultures of the 1960s and 1970s, on the pitch, on the terraces and in the media coverage of football. Some observers date the rivalry to the signing of midfield maestro John Giles by Don Revie from the Old Trafford club in 1963 when Leeds were still in the old Second Division. In Leeds’s first season in the top flight in 1964-65; Revie’s charges went toe-to-toe with Manchester United who were the eventual winners of the League title but gained some measure of compensation in victory over their erstwhile rivals in the FA Cup semi-final after two bruising encounters settled by a late goal by Billy Bremner in the replay. 

Leeds’s physical style of football, though by no means an outlier for the time, and the frequent accusations of gamesmanship levelled at the club ensured that they had no shortage of keen rivals. By contrast Manchester United were, in the perceptions of Leeds fans, held up by the print media as the embodiment of the club that could do no wrong. Still riding the crest of waves of national sympathy after the Munich tragedy, the Holy Trinity of Best, Law, and Charlton brought to the Red Devils a mixture of panache, swashbuckling excitement, and class. George Best as the Fifth Beatle brought glamour and celebrity; sexy football before Ruud Gullit coined the phrase. Their zenith was reached with the winning of the European Cup in 1968. The contrast with the supposed dour, mechanical (dare I say anti-football) character of the upstarts from Yorkshire was held up and Leeds fans had their noses metaphorically rubbed in the moniker of Dirty Leeds; a meme which never seems to lose its durability down the generations.

Survivors of the Busby regime at Old Trafford such as Pat Crerand recall respect being shown to the growing force that was Leeds United but never affection as Don Revie’s earlier teams did not go out of their way to make friends and influence people because of their alleged aggression and meanness. However as Man U’s star waned after their European Cup, that of Leeds United rose with two League titles, one FA Cup, one League Cup and two Inter Cities Fairs Cup trophies plus three League runners up positions, two other Cup Final appearances, Cup Winners Cup final appearance and European Cup semi-final appearance in the period 1968-74 when the Stretford Enders were nosediving to the indignity of relegation by 1974. 

From 1969 terrace battles were to be a regular occurrence as true enmity was born and both clubs’ fanbase attracted notorious hooligan fringes in the 1970s. My fellow TPQ columnist Caoimhin O’Muraile recalls frequent school fights between fans of both clubs. With the departure of Don Revie to take up an ill-fated appointment as England manager and the monstrous injustice that was our defeat in the 1975 European Cup Final recalled so vividly and starkly in the documentary film Paris 75 the star of Leeds United similarly faded and unlike the other United relegation when it came in 1982 came with an eight-season period of exile. The double sale of Scottish internationals Joe Jordan and Gordon McQueen to that lot across the Pennines in the middle of the 1977-78 season came as particularly bitter blows to Leeds fans and provided glaring evidence of the club’s lack of real ambition. More defectors were to be added to this roll of dishonour in the decades ahead.

With the return of Leeds United to the big time in 1990 under Howard Wilkinson, the cross-Pennines rivalry was renewed with an intensity that shook even Alex Ferguson who from his participation in Old Firm derbies as a Rangers player in the 1960s presumably would have known a thing or two about the animosity involved in club rivalries. The point of maximum ecstasy for Leeds United fans was reached in 1992 by becoming the Last Champions (the last winners of the old Football League Championship before the dawn of Planet Premier League) at the expense of Manchester United whose Devon Lock like collapse in the home strait led to us winning the title with a game to spare. A talismanic presence in that team was the enigmatic French forward Eric Cantona who Wilkinson had signed as an emergency replacement for injured forward Lee Chapman. Fully cognisant of the risks of signing a free spirit with a history of clashing with football authority figures, he looked to have signed at £1m the bargain of the season as Leeds fans formed an almost sexualised relationship with this Gallic force of nature who from the top of the open top bus proclaimed to the citizenry of Leeds during our title celebrations “I don’t know why, but I love you”. 

The sense of betrayal was all the more acute when just six months, after a casual inquiry from Sir Alex about the availability of another Leeds player, Howard sold him to them for the paltry figure of £1.1m. Season after season salt would be rubbed into this open wound for Leeds fans as Cantona became key to Man U’s dominance of domestic football in the 1990s winning four Premier League titles and two FA Cups before sailing off into the sunset in 1997 aged just 31.

A decade later at the turn of the millennium Leeds again looked poised to mount a serious challenge to Manchester United’s dominance with the full flowering of the crop of the 1997 FA Youth Cup winning squad who were unleashed onto the Premier League and European competition. It seemed only a matter of time before the trophy cabinet at Elland Road would be replenished season after season. However the collapse of the house of cards in the wake of two successive failures to qualify for the Champions League and the consequent ensnarement of Leeds United in a vortex of debts and unsustainable financial commitments as a result of the catastrophic management by the PLC board that ran the club led to the sale of the only assets that a club has – players. The biggest name in the Dutch auction that followed was Rio Ferdinand, signed for a club record fee for a defender at £19m from West Ham in November 2000 and then sold for another record fee for a defender £30m; this time again to our nemesis - and once again our export would be central to a third decade of Man United dominance. Our descent into relegation (and near extinction) was book ended by the sale of local lad Alan Smith who was the beating heart of the O’Leary Babes squad to, guess where, Manchester United for £7m overnight, becoming Public Enemy No. 1 in Leeds; the latest entry into the rogues gallery of defectors never mind the economic rationale behind these sales – considerations which football emotions override by default.

Now to Sunday’s proceedings. To their credit, they effectively deployed a 3-4-3 formation which largely thwarted our attack apart from one downward header by Swiss defender Nico Elvedi which was palmed away by Man U keeper Lammens. The opposition were winning two thirds of individual duels, and their quick breaks were sounding alarm bells in the home defence. It came as no surprise when after fluffing a header in acres of space near the goal, Bryan Mbeumo gave the visitors the lead in the 34th minute from a cross by the Belgian Diallo. A typically spiky encounter saw some juicy tackles which had a stricter official than Darren England been in charge could have seen two yellow cards leading to red for Leeds captain Ethan Ampadou, Swedish defender Gudmundsson, and Man United’s Santos and Baleba.

But come the second half total change as Leeds really came out of the traps. By the 53rd minute, we were level thanks to a seemingly well-rehearsed set piece moved in which Bosnian defender Muharamovic flicked on a corner to Dominic Calvert-Lewin who outmuscled Mbeumo to deftly trap the ball and pivot to score from close range. Now there was only one United in town and had Tanaka and Stach shown more composure in the penalty with their shooting boots, we would have gone ahead. Manchester did respond with some breakaway attacks but with no serious end product. Leeds kept forcing the pace of the game and almost forced a winner in stoppage time against a Man U defence lacking the composure they showed in the first half.

The general consensus is that a draw was a fair result. It is a sign of the progress that we have made since our return to the Premiership that Daniel Farke expressed some disappointment that we had not got all three points while acknowledging that one point was a satisfactory outcome. For besieged Man Utd manager Michael Carrick this result should buy some time until the next Spurs and Fulham type performance. But at the full time whistle I was still breathing heavily to relieve the tension in my system. There certainly is a market for a fan podcast run by Paul known as “Leeds Therapy.”

Marching on Together

References

[1] Barney Ronay Analysis Managerial magic bullet merchants are derailing the United supremacy The Guardian 19 October 2026 p.41

⏩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. 

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