‘I was seven in 1975 when I committed myself to Leeds United, then I watched a great team fall apart’

Johnny Giles was wearing a sheepskin jacket when he walked into the Queens Hotel in Leeds city centre in 1975. He was an Irish football hero and looked like a cast member from a cool 1970s cop show. I was seven years old, slack-jawed and probably dribbling my cornflakes down my chin.

I was also ready to commit myself to a football team. And when one of Europe’s best midfielders took an interest in a group of kids from Dublin, I chose Leeds United – champions of England and European Cup semi-finalists.

Then I watched a great team fall apart.

I met Leeds by chance. My father was a mentor for a team of older boys and had brought me along on the Easter football trip. Giles, the Republic of Ireland player-manager, had been told about us and called to the hotel that morning. Later, he met us at Elland Road and took us pitchside. The following day he arranged and attended a match between Greenhills Boys and a Leeds youth team. He was incredibly generous and I was leaning Leeds-ward.

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It was on match day that I was truly smitten. From our seat in the newly opened, impossibly modern South Stand, my father pointed to Billy Bremner, Peter Lorimer and Norman Hunter as they warmed up. But I couldn’t take my eyes off the immaculate Allan Clarke – blond and angular, an all-in-white hero.

Striker Allan Clarke of Leeds United kicking the ball on a snow-covered pitch in 1970. Photo: Victor Drees/Getty

Lorimer scored twice in that 2-2 draw with Manchester City. Giles missed out with cracked ribs, but would be ready for the European Cup semi-final with Johan Cruyff’s Barcelona. When Leeds made it through to the final against Bayern Munich, a dazzlingly white future lay ahead.

But Leeds lost in heartbreaking fashion – a disallowed goal, a clear penalty not given – and over the next few years my new relationship became grimly character-forming as the famous side disintegrated. Giles to West Brom that summer. Bremner to Hull and Hunter to Bristol City a year later. In 1978, Clarke to Barnsley and Joe Jordan and Gordon McQueen to you-know-who. Fifty years on, time has compressed the departures. It feels like they all left within days of the awful 2-0 defeat to Bayern in Paris.

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Back then, my Liverpool-supporting friends embraced life with red-fuelled optimism while I developed a high pain threshold that would help me cope stoically with life’s broader disappointments. If you’ve lived through Tony Currie leaving for QPR, you’re ready for anything.

But I’d made my choice. The pilgrimages continued as the club stalled and then fell – with a gruff Clarke as manager – from the top division in 1982.

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There were respites – a promotion, an old Division One title – but the damage had been done. They were celebrated above a dark undercurrent, a creeping sense that things would soon come undone. Eric Cantona to you-know-who, financial crises and relegations.

And still I kept going. Through lonely journeys after my father’s death. Through third-tier matches when a Leeds goal would lift the Elland Road atmosphere from grim to glum. Through the this-is-too-good-to-last three-year trip under the management of Marcelo Bielsa, who was too decent to find himself caught up in all of this.

The match programme from Leeds United's 2-2 draw with Manchester City in March, 1975.

Another promotion to the top flight was confirmed on Easter Monday. I’m looking forward to the big games and I’m ready to endure the big defeats.

John Giles will be looking on as well. He was fumbling with the zip of his anorak when I spotted him in Dublin’s College Green a few months ago. I approached and thanked him for his kindness in 1975.

That, Giles countered immediately, was the year he left. Leeds manager Jimmy Armfield called him in and said in the same breath that the midlands club had made an offer, but he didn’t want Giles to go. Not the way to address a straight-talker: “Jimmy’s indecision was final. Duncan McKenzie used to say that.” Giles made Armfield’s mind up for him.

He was zipped up now, but wasn’t ready to go. Still generous with his time.

And still thinking of Leeds. Elland Road is bouncing again. For now. “It’s great to hear them singing the old song [Marching on Together]”, he said. “And so many young people singing it!”

It’s all ahead of them.

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