Dawn breaks in Leeds with a smell of menace. Police out by breakfast, a slow-moving filet of yellow hi-vis beating the streets, lining the alleyways, scanning the trains for trouble. In the stands, songs about Munich and Istanbul, Mason Greenwood and Jimmy Savile. On the pitch, skewering tackles, crunching limbs, collisions you can physically hear. The atmosphere is magnificent, even if it comes from the ugliest of places.
Leeds have committed the most fouls in the Premier League this season, Manchester United are fourth in that list, and the two clubs have hated each other for decades. Perhaps this was the inevitable result: a kind of bestial melee, RB Leipzig v RB Leipzig, in which for long periods neither team could get a foothold on the game because they were too busy getting a foothold on each other.
Clearly this steaming chaos suited some better than others. Marcel Sabitzer had a riotously good game in the United midfield. Fred has always been a better player when he has less time to think. Luke Ayling was having the time of his life. But the promising Wilfried Gnonto got a little lost here, Bruno Fernandes never really managed to exert an influence and Jack Harrison’s precise technical game was knocked off its stride early on. Even Marcus Rashford had a quiet first hour before moving into the centre and resuming his stately march to world domination.
But of course Manchester United have other tones and gears to them, other ways of playing. Rashford not getting much change out of Ayling on the left? Move him into the centre, bring on Alejandro Garnacho and watch them win you the game. The introduction of Lisandro Martínez for Tyrell Malacia was another key moment, offering command and control at the back. This is the latitude that superior resources and superior coaching can buy you: the ability to move the game on to your own terms.
Leeds, for all their energy and voracious effort, do not have this ability. They run and chase and slide and scythe, they have pace and explosive dribblers and can overwhelm you in transition. None of this is a bad thing. It often works. It was almost enough to earn them a famous victory at Old Trafford on Wednesday night. But it is also a kind of cocaine football, defined by irresistible highs and loud noises, but also thumping comedowns and a hell of a lot of bad decisions.
One of the lesser-noted traits of this Leeds side over the last year or so is their decline as a possession side. Two seasons ago under Marcelo Bielsa they had 57% of the ball; this season it is barely 50%. Only one player – Tyler Adams – has completed more than 80% of his passes. Their completion rate as a side is among the lowest in the division. Arguably they have never really managed to replace Kalvin Phillips.
Perhaps this is the logical upshot of a recruitment strategy that seems to have prioritised runners over passers, that hired a coach in Jesse Marsch who essentially saw the game as a high-speed fight. The Bielsa side was skittish and chaotic, but it was also technically sophisticated and knew how to keep the ball. At times these days Leeds look as though they are playing table football, trying to force it in on vibes alone. When the mood of the game changes, when the lull occurs, there is a temptation to look around the pitch and wonder: who exactly is in charge here?
Of course, the answer at the moment is nobody. Formally, the former England futsal coach, is in caretaker charge, with Chris Armas occasionally taking out his AirPods and whispering something to him on the bench. But Marsch has gone, and so have Rene Maric, Cameron Toshack and Pierre Barrieu. Many of the squad are still trying to establish themselves. The search for a new manager looks certain to drag into another week. The next two games are against fellow relegation strugglers Everton and Southampton. At what point does the absence of authority and expertise become an urgent problem?
Perhaps none of this had a direct influence on Sunday’sgame. Perhaps Manchester United’s class always tells in the end. Perhaps one of Leeds’s many promising openings falls their way. But the broader picture here is unmistakable. Leeds went all in on Marsch, and losing that gamble has come at a significant cost. A squad built for Marsch-ball will not easily transition to a more nuanced or refined style of play. The leadership void cannot be filled overnight. And of course in between times Leeds are still capable of thrilling attacking football, running teams off the park, playing with pride in their work and a snarl on their face. The danger is that this alone may not be enough.
