On Second Thoughts: Leeds United's 1991-92 Title

Last updated : 13 September 2011 By The Guardian

In an essay in 1977, Stephen Heath, one of Britain's more important academic film critics, suggested that a movie could never be taken in the isolation of its viewing. "It has also to be seen that a film must never end, that it must exist – and even before it begins, before we enter the cinema – in a kind of englobingly extensive prolongation." He then talks of the epiphenomena that influence our perceptions, "from trailers to remakes, from weekly reviews to star magazines, from publicity stills to mementos". As the song tells us during the final scene of the Sopranos*, the movie never ends; it goes on and on and on and on.
The same idea surely applies to any creative pursuit, even football: our perception of a goal or a bad foul, for example, will be altered before we've seen them on Match of the Day by the descriptions on the radio or TV that afternoon. And if Leeds' title victory in 1991-92 was a film, it would be one that has aged very, very badly. So much has changed in the intervening 16 years that perceptions have been subtly, unconsciously altered after the event.
The main one, of course, is the introduction of the Premier League the following season. When compared to the glitz, glamour and Sky Sports News girls of the current product, the final days of poor old Division One feel almost embarrassingly prehistoric: a time of Elton Welsby and Saint & Greavsie; of bone-chilling, mind-numbing football; of awful pitches and an urgent need for grass in the sky. As the final winners of Division One, Leeds became a symbol of an age mercifully past.
Even more importantly, as the last English manager to win the league, Howard Wilkinson became the same. It is entirely conceivable that an English manager will not win the Premier League for another two or three decades and, in a culture where it barely requires eye contact to precipitate a serious attack of self-loathing, it makes sense that, given the incontrovertible advances the game has made since those days, we would almost want to wash our hands of such an incident.
There is also the fact that Leeds made such a remarkable mess of their title defence, failing to win a game away from home the following season and finishing only two points off relegation. They failed badly and humiliatingly in Europe, too, losing home and away to Rangers. Wilkinson's stock began to nosedive before he was sacked in the 1996. So did that of the club off the field. Wilkinson had done outstanding work in reducing the impact of the disgusting minority that had often damaged the reputation of the club, but after he went normal service was resumed. Leeds' fans became untrustworthy again and the perception of their principal characters returned to the days when the likes of Johnny Giles, Billy Bremner and Jack Charlton felt more like Gollums than players. In short, it became not only OK to hate Leeds again, but compulsory.
There is another reason why their triumph has posthumously been reduced and diminished. The fact that the team they beat to the title in 1991-92, Manchester United, went on to have such unprecedented success furthers the comfortable notion that Leeds did not win the league but that United either lost it or were robbed by a schedule that made them play four games in seven days.
United did stutter badly, losing three games in a row in the run-in. And Leeds' decisive 3-2 victory at Sheffield United contained so many utterly farcical goals that, had match-fixing been suspected in those days, the long arm of the law would have wanted a serious word with Dame Fortune. It was a fittingly slapstick end to a competition described in this paper by David Lacey as "the league title which nobody appeared to want".
Yet the fact is, somebody got it. Most things in sport leave scope for considerable argument, but winning a 38- or 42-game competition should be so undeniable that any argument should automatically be concluded by an imperious, David Brent-style "Next!" Even Alex Ferguson admitted that Leeds were worthy winners, both at the time and in his 1999 autobiography, when he wrote: "There were many reasons for our failure to ... win the First Division in 1992, and the most important of them was the excellent campaign waged by Howard Wilkinson's Leeds United, who persevered resolutely and held their nerve well on the run-in."
That they did, taking 13 points from the final five games to United's four. It is insultingly revisionist to suggest that this Leeds team was not without considerable merit. The most notable was the wonderful midfield of Gordon Strachan, Gary McAllister, David Batty and Gary Speed, who in those days was a marauding, intrepid left-winger rather than the grizzled cruncher we came to know. That midfield had pretty much everything: brain, brawn, youth, experience, wit, grit, class and brass.
The defence of Mel Sterland, Chris Fairclough, Chris Whyte and Tony Dorigo was greater than the sum of its parts, with Dorigo adding a sprinkling of quality. They had a very decent goalkeeper in John Lukic, who proved his worth especially with a wonderful double-save from Ian Rush and Michael Thomas at Anfield during a crucial 0-0 draw in the run-in.
Lee Chapman and Rod Wallace, battering ram and bumblebee, were a textbook little-and-large front pair. Wallace produced many cool, chipped finishes, while Chapman was a much better player than we remember: he scored 16 goals in 38 games, including goals away to the rest of the top four (Manchester United, Sheffield Wednesday and Arsenal) and was included in the five English players of the year in the reputable European Football Yearbook (think Wisden's Five Cricketers, only these had to be English). When he scored in a live match at Arsenal in March, the ITV commentator Alan Parry described him as "the supreme goalscorer", high praise even allowing for Parry's penchant for getting slightly carried away.
Then there was Eric Cantona. His role in Leeds' triumph has been a little overstated: he started only six of his 15 games, and his three goals all came at home to sides in the bottom half of the table. But it was about more than bald statistics; as David Hopps observed in this rag, Cantona "had created a celebratory mood which contrasted with the debilitating nervousness at Old Trafford", best exemplified by his unforgettable goal against Chelsea in April.
Still, Cantona was not involved in Leeds' most fluent performances, which came well before squeaky-bum time. Two live Sunday-afternoon performances stand out. In November they routed Ron Atkinson's burgeoning Aston Villa side, who were a dangerously loose cannon, 4-1 at Villa Park. Then in January they produced one of the great forgotten performances: an awesome 6-1 win away to their rivals Sheffield Wednesday, who would finish third in the table and were still technically in the title race with two games to go.
The moment that best reflected their incessant intensity came when, with Leeds 2-0 up in the first half, Gordon Watson won a penalty with truly one of the most pathetic dives of all time. John Sheridan converted and, to use the words of Barry Davies after the famous Jeff Astle incident (right at the end of this video) in 1971, Leeds had every right to go mad. Instead they got even, restoring their two-goal lead with devastating efficiency. Lukic rolled the ball out to Dorigo, who swept the ball down the line to Speed, running diagonally away from goal. He crossed first time to the far post, where Chapman bulleted a flying header past Chris Woods.
That victory also came straight after they had been outclassed by Manchester United in a League Cup tie at Elland Road. Such bouncebackability was in evidence all season: Leeds scored 13 goals in the four matches immediately following league defeats. It was one of the many qualities we expect of champions. They were unbeatable at home, most admirably early in the season when they were 2-0 down to the champions Arsenal and rallied to draw 2-2, sealed by Gordon Strachan's Panenka penalty. They also spread the goals around as champions should, with 12 from the usual defence (although Sterland did take some penalties) and 19 from the regular midfield. Even Steve Hodge, a bit-part player, scored seven from 12 starts.
Nor can we say they were boring. Only Arsenal scored more goals, and Leeds bagged four or more away from home on four occasions to Manchester United's none. Alex Ferguson's side certainly played the classier football – and Leeds scored an amazing number of goals from set pieces – but these are red herrings. Very few English clubs could feel legitimately compromised by winning a title in a certain style; Leeds are not one of them. Anyway, they were hardly long-ball merchants. This was the acceptable and indeed admirable face of the direct football that predominated in those days, and the midfield could be utterly electrifying. They were intimidatingly physical – Strachan's passion often made him the most menacing of them all – but not gratuitously dirty.
Leeds, and their manager, were certainly of their time. But this is hardly a bad thing, and it would also be unfair to say that their minds were not open. Wilkinson always had a wit, warmth and, crucially, a modernity that contrasted with his public image. If he had made a signing any more leftfield than Cantona, Leeds would have had Saint or Greavsie up front. They might not have looked that out of place. Some of the Leeds squad players were undeniably limited – Tony Agana, Bobby Davison, Chris Kamara, Imre Varadi and Mike Whitlow all played in the league that season – and even Wilkinson said that, "not all of those players would have been seen as the best in the world but they were committed to excellence."
Such overachievement deserves to be hailed rather than belittled, yet Wilkinson is often damned for having such players in the first place. We forget why: only two years earlier Leeds had been in the second tier of English football, so Wilkinson had not had time to develop his squad for a crack at the title. They were miles ahead of schedule.
Blackburn are remembered as the overnight success of modern-day English football, but they won the title in their third year in the top flight, and on a greater budget. Leeds won the title in their second season after promotion. That is a remarkable achievement – arguably the worthiest title victory since Brian Clough's Nottingham Forest did it at the first attempt in 1977-78 – and entirely inconceivable in the current climate. When we consider the "englobingly extensive prolongation" of Leeds' title victory, we should not lose sight of that.

To see most of Leeds' goals from that season, click here, and then follow the link to part 2.

 

* Yes, this is that scene, so don't click if you haven't seen it. And while we're here, if you haven't, don't complain about possible plot-spoiling: it's been a year since it finished and nine since it started. What the hell have you been doing that's so important? You wouldn't expect the bloke on the BBC News to say "If you don't want to know last season's scores, look away now", would you? Eh?