The Kids are alright...
Seeking to out an end to a run of poor recent form, Brian McDermott finally grasped the nettle and went for a starting line up containing the prodigious teenagers Sam Byram and Alex Mowatt. Add to that a side containing Scott Wooton (22) Tom Lees (also 22) Luke Murphy (23) and Matt Smith (24) and it seems that Neil Warnock's old guard are finally on their way to the knacker's yard. Given that Leeds' owners GFHC are as Yorkshire as to possess both short arms and deep pockets, turning to youth may yet be the club's quickest way to back to success.
...Birmingham however are not alright
Anyone at St. Andrews even clinging to the notion that this side are too good to go down needs only to watch the first 43 of this game, during which City's defence had all the organisation of a tossed salad. Just over eighteen months ago a 4-1 home defeat by Birmingham spelled the end for Simon Grayson; the ever dolorous Lee Clark now has the similar expression of a dead man walking.
Formations are for square bashing
In the wake of Jonathan Wilson's nerdopedic book Inverting The Pyramid, a slew of tactics bores have flooded social media, ever quick to point out that the 3-2-2-3 dystopian prism formation was last used by the Faroe Islands in 1987. Tactically, Brian McDermott had spotted that Birmingham's centre halves were both technically “Shite” beforehand, and proceeded to instruct his players to “Put it up them early doors”. Result ? A sand kicked in your face 4-0, dweebs.
Paul Tierney is a special referee
Fans up and down the country are vexed by the inept performances of Mr. Tierney, a little man from Lancashire so committed to letting the game flow he refuses to give free kicks after acts of foul play. More striking however this time was his and the lino's mauve outfits, giving the match officials the appearance of ripening aubergines, or in Tierney's case more like your old chap after it's been hit repeatedly with a ruler.
We don't do bars in Yorkshire?
Recently taken over and renovated in a contemporary style – glazed brickwork, carpets your feet don't stick on – there were concerns that The Peacock pub almost adjacent to Elland Road might go a bit far up market over the summer. You can stick your skinny Lattes and humus quiche though thankfully, as pints of Yorkshire Blond flowed at £3 a go and the jukebox mainlined 35 years of British testosterone via The Sex Pistols, The Specials, Oasis and T'Arctic Monkeys. Proper.