Ross Mullen | Staff Writer
Supporting a shite football team is one of those aspects of life which will never seem to improve. Languishing in the lower leagues becomes the norm while being able to watch a match live on TV becomes a distinct rarity to such an extent that when your team eventually do make it onto Sky Sports that it is met with delight. This is despite the fact it’s probably a cup game where a hammering is imminent. The bright wealthy lights of the Premier League seem to further distance themselves with each passing year while solace is almost drawn from the mere survival of the club. Thankfully, in my case, Leeds United have at least risen from the lower doldrums of English football but the heights still tower far above.
When I was a naive young boy, Leeds were a top team. Reaching the semi-finals of the Champions League in 2001 under David O’Leary, Leeds were living the dream and splashed out accordingly. Players were offered inordinate contracts while others were bought at hugely inflated prices. Nothing summed up the idiocy more than the story of youngster Seth Johnson’s contract negotiations with then chairman, Peter Ridsdale. Johnson’s agent told him he wouldn’t settle for anything less than £13,000. However, Ridsdale awestruck them both with an opening offer of £30,000 which he then rose even further upon seeing the genuine shock on the young player’s face. Unfortunately, the story was untrue but has passed into legend and the fact it was even believed to be true still highlights the chaos underway at Elland Road at the time.
Leeds descent into the forgotten realms of lower league football have been well documented since. Relegation from the top flight along coupled with a cut-price sale of a heap of our finest talent led to a very difficult time for fans of the club. A glimmer of hope in the form of a playoff final against Watford and the chance to return to the promised land ended in typical Leeds United fashion, a crushing 3-0 defeat. Further relegation and fifteen point deduction followed only a year later and even the most loyal of supporters couldn’t be admonished for questioning why they put themselves through such pain. Leeds continued their rollercoaster form of slight highs and immense lows by winning their first seven, eradicating the points deduction with ease. Unsurprisingly, they failed to get promoted, losing to Doncaster Rovers in another playoff heartbreak. Promotion back to the Championship finally came the following year in dramatic fashion. But a return to the Championship doesn’t feel completely worthy of celebration. It’s like finding your phone after a few weeks but realising at the end of the day, it’s still only a Nokia. An iPhone is still well out of grasp.
Leeds United still hold a loyal following, despite a dramatic descent in the 2000’s
I find it hard to explain why I follow Leeds. Essentially, I blame my dad; an avid fan when he was younger, during the glory days when Leeds competed for league titles, and even won. Back when a cup victory was not a dream, when beating Manchester United at Old Trafford was a regular occurrence rather than only in the FA Cup. My brothers and I foolishly followed in his footsteps, just as the tides began to turn. My brothers jumped ship before we sank towards the bottom of the football pyramid but I remained, blindly loyal to a worsening football team. They’ve had much happier times following Chelsea and Arsenal. My family has a wealth of experience in following sides with trophies; none belong to me.
Following Leeds brings more misery than joy. Throughout my life I’ve seen my team plummet impressively and stagger slowly upwards. Every opportunity for delight or cheer is normally swiftly ruined in moments. I will never forget the devastation felt when Mark Viduka left, not because he was a fantastic striker but because I had his name emblazoned across the back of my shirt. So why do I continue to devote my time to a club that only causes me pain? Loyalty is an odd human characteristic. I can’t change club now, it would be sacrilegious and go against every fundamental element of being a fan. I’d be ridiculed and belittled for abandoning my club for a more successful one. For better or for worse, Leeds United will be my club until my death, or theirs.
I’ve always wondered would I inflict the curse of following Leeds on any sons I have in the future, much like my dad did to me. On one level, I’d do so merely out of spite; I must pass it on. Suffering through the constant abuse and slagging from friends throughout childhood is a rite of passage, which my son should pass through much as I did. I’m forever grateful to Jermaine Beckford for the goal he scored to beat Manchester United while we still endured the plight of League One football because it meant others were on the receiving end of taunts, not me, for once. On another level, I will do so because many fathers wish for their sons to mirrors their tastes. My dad’s collection of punk rock was a perpetual soundtrack in my younger years and his efforts to almost force this shared taste in music were not wasted. One can always hope by the time I have kids, Leeds will have arisen from their slumber and be challenging at the top once again. It is also equally likely they will have returned or dropped to even greater depths. The only certainty is my unwavering support. It’ll be an arduous task for them to attach themselves to another club anyways, as there is not a hope I’ll be buying them any other football jerseys anyway.
