It's A Knockaert

IT'S A KNOCKAERT

Jamie Barnard on how Anthony Knockaert is the man to help Leicester City to their first away points of the season...

 

There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home. Last Sunday afternoon’s 3-1 victory over an in-form Hull City side saw Leicester City maintain an unbeaten start to home fixtures in this season’s Championship.

At the King Power Stadium, Leicester have found that promotion rhythm - yet from the click of a distressed damsel’s red heels it is not. Instead the tap of summer signing Antony Knockaert’s red boots dictates the beat to which Leicester now play.

They have found their wizard.

Eased into the English game, Nigel Pearson has now given his Frenchman a free role. Too good to tie down to one position, Knockaert plays where he wants. With a license to roam, he assumes a license to thrill. Flair, determination, class. Knockaert is everything you’d want in a player.

And his introduction to the starting line-up couldn’t have come at a better time for Pearson. Having seen his side dominate possession and chances on the road this season, Knockaert was too frequently the saving grace of improved second half performances. The antidote to first half defensive carelessness, even Knockaert’s Euro vision couldn’t alleviate undeserved defeats. Nil points for Leicester City away from home this season.

To counteract such futility, back-to-back home fixtures against Burnley and Hull became of paramount importance. Frustratingly familiar fickle murmurings of discontent began to surface, knees felt peculiar to not be jerking. But the fat lady, that Wicked Witch of the West Stand, was not to sing for Pearson yet.

French under-21 international Knockaert has turned Pearson’s men from Leicester City to Emerald City, and in the former Guingamp man they have found their gemstone. In possession, when Knockaert shows, with the ball he is presented. Without the ball he is the beacon of endeavour, tireless in his work for the team. He has inspired in Leicester a clinical streak for which previously they were found wanting.

Their ooh la la, their Cheri Amour, their raison raison d'être, it is hoped that once again he will be the difference when Leicester are back out pounding that promotion trail away from home. In making Leicester feel at home in unfamiliar surrounds, home is now where Knockaert is.

With Knockaert in the team, The Foxes appear complete. Wes Morgan, a beast in defence, has shown admirable courage captaining the side with a string of commendable performances. Jamie Vardy has shown exemplary heart. And David Nugent has found that instinctive finisher’s brain which saw him follow a 100 career goals landmark with his first career hat-trick in the same week.

In achieving back-to-back wins Pearson’s men have accomplished something which for too long was both the bugbear and the epitome of their inconsistency last season. Now the aim will be to secure that first away point. If a further two could come at the same time in the form of victory, then Leicester will be gearing up to promotion pace.

But a fear for Leicester City will be that Knockaert’s journey to the Premiership may be a faster one than theirs. Scouted by Newcastle, eyebrows were raised in Knockaert’s homeland when his arrival in England was not at a Premier League destination. Talent such as Knockaert’s seldom escapes the attention of envying eyes and Leicester will hope that Knockaert takes them to the highest level of English football with him.

An artiste in the truest of senses, Knockaert’s colourful displays have illuminated the spectrum of The Championship. At the end of that footballing rainbow there lies a pot of Premiership gold. Somewhere over that rainbow skies are blue, and the dreams that Leicester City dared to dream really could come true.

 

Credit Knockaert photo bbbbbbb678 via Flickr

Credit KP Stadium photo Mr Churchill via Flickr

A Piece Of Cake

A Piece Of Cake

Jamie Barnard on how Jermaine Beckford's collapsed deadline day loan move from Leicester City to Huddersfield Town could still happen...

 

With just forty minutes to go until midnight, the transfer window misted as Sven Goran Eriksson breathed a sigh of relief. Walking through the doors of the King Power Stadium to put pen to paper on a four year deal was Jermaine Beckford. Eriksson had his striker.

 

To convince Beckford that he was the long-coveted cherry on the cake would be no easy task; the reality was that he was the Fifth Amendment to Eriksson’s recipe for success. Shane Long, Jason Roberts, Nikita Jelavic, Yakubu and Nicky Maynard, subject of a mad nine-million pound bid at one point, had all been pursued. Advances spurned, Sven Goran Eriksson’s list of failed overtures had never been so long.

Arriving on a four-year deal from Everton, with eight Premier League goals to his name, Leicester City fans were hoping that Beckford was the man to fire them back into the big time after seven long years away.

Fast forward a year and things have changed. Leicester’s leave of absence is eight years. And Beckford looks to be on the move again.

Nigel Pearson is now the man holding the keys to the King Power Stadium and, for Pearson, Beckford’s face doesn’t fit. With just minutes to elapse before the summer transfer window crashed shut, Pearson pulled the plug on a loan move to Huddersfield.  Beckford wasn’t being thrown out with the bath water. Not yet at least.

But the fact remains that Pearson had shown his willingness for a parting of the ways. Had Pearson found a lone replacement, with it would have likely come with his rubber stamp. Should he find a loan replacement, with that will come his seal of approval for Beckford’s re-unification with Simon Grayson in West Yorkshire.

For Beckford, at Leicester it simply hasn’t worked out. A meagre nine league goals in a year are scant consolation for the hefty price Eriksson paid for the cherry on that cake. And that the cake went stale leaves a bitter taste for many Foxes fans. The squad that Eriksson left behind synonymous with the offerings of its football; unfulfilling, bloated and imbalanced.

Jermaine Beckford typified everything that was wrong with Eriksson’s dynasty; overpaid yet underperforming.

After waiting over a month for his first goal, Leicester fans were shot an icy-cold stare for lauding the managerial decision to end an abject individual performance devoid of any effort, commitment or class, ten minutes after half time at Upton Park last October. In a league match away at Reading he was so ineffective that he didn’t even last that long, removed at the break. And as any hopes of a promotion push ebbed away at London Road against Peterborough, Beckford refused to advance further than the halfway line for an attacking free kick in the dying stages of a game in which Leicester were losing. 

The attitude reeked.

In the time that has passed since then, Pearson has been a Leicester fat-fighter. And they are steadfast losing the pounds - Bamba, Peltier and Mills, with their lucrative contracts, have been trimmed from the squad. Weighing in with a wage that dwarfs his return, Beckford has to be next.

Richie De Laet, Anthony Knockaert, Matt James and Marco Futacs. These are the children of the revolution. In place of an idle Beckford, Nugent and Vardy prosper. More industrious, more willing and more potent. The scent now is a breath of fresh air. And in just five games Jamie Vardy, a striker cast to the periphery of professional football only to rise again, has shown himself superior to Beckford in a multitude of ways.

Where Beckford lacks a first touch, Vardy looks neat. Where Beckford is dominated in aerial battles, Vardy shows a spring in his step so often found in the free walk of the absolved. Where Beckford cannot pass, Vardy is selfless. And finally, where Beckford shoots, Vardy scores.

Beckford’s star is fading fast. Having had his time in the spotlight, shining brightest now are the glaring limitations that once saw him fall to non-league too. At Goodison Park, Everton manager David Moyes is a shrewd operator. He took a punt on Beckford on a free transfer, cashed in his chips after eight Premiership goals. Moyes’ decision testament enough that Beckford lacked the substance to remain at such a level.

And it is a level that Leicester long to get back to. With one eye on getting there Pearson has built a youthful, exuberant, dynamic side. Perhaps lacking the know-how at this moment in time, but certainly not the flair and fluidity – a style which has seen them dominate games this season, even if coming away pointless at times.

Leading by example, in casting aside a profligate Jermaine Beckford, Pearson is showing a ruthlessness which, given time, his young squad will develop. At Huddersfield, in a less pressured environment, and back under the tutelage of Simon Grayson, Beckford may well prosper as he did at a lower level with Leeds. But Leicester City don’t have the time to wait for him to come good, particularly when thus far he has been at best half-baked.

So with a slice of fortune, a loan deal which collapsed at the eleventh hour could well be resurrected this week by the twelfth.  When it comes to Jermaine Beckford and Leicester City; as they say, you cannot have your cake and eat it too.

 

 

Two Hearts

Two Hearts

Jamie Barnard on how a Bolton without retired Fabrice Muamba have the strength to return to The Premier League at the first time of asking...

An eerie silence swept across the stadium. Confusion reigned. The picture of distress painted upon players’ faces strikingly different to that conjured by a disbelieving referee, a last-minute goal conceded or an angry manager. Their team mate, colleague, comrade, lay stricken. His heart had stopped beating.

This didn’t happen to professional footballers. Fine-tuned top athletes didn’t - don’t - break down like this. But Clive Clarke just had.

As the then Leicester City manager Martin Allen gathered his team at the mouth of the City Ground tunnel during that half time break of an August 2007 League Cup match, paramedics fought to re-start Clarke’s heart with a defibrillator. One. Two. Three. Fourth time lucky. His life had been saved.

But if Clarke’s heart had gone in the dressing room, that of the other players went as they endured some semblance of a panicked team talk pitch-side. For them the game had just become unplayable by what they had bore witness to in that supposed inner sanctum of the dressing room.

Bill Shankley once said that football is much more than a matter of life and death. He was wrong. As survivor Clarke is here to testify today: “One life is more important than any football game."

The announcement this week that Fabrice Muamba had decided to retire from professional football was no news. There was nothing novel about it. For the decision was not taken by Muamba, the obligation was his from the second his heart ceased to beat on the White Hart Lane turf in March earlier this year.

Prayers for Muamba might have saved his life, but they could never save his career.

For Muamba the precedent had been set. The road to recovery from heart failure is not one that can be navigated from the physio’s table. It is not a road to be pounded in a gym. Retirement is simply the latest of Clarke’s footsteps in which Muamba is tentatively treading. Four months after his resurrection in Nottingham, Clive Clarke had an optimism belying the magnitude of the affliction he had just suffered: “I'm just hoping to get back into it and get on to the training pitch, hopefully in the next couple of weeks, certainly in the New Year.” Eight weeks later he had his epiphany.

Retirement is the reality. The practicalities of testing a once-waivered body with the rigours of competitive football; impossible. The technicalities of securing a sports insurance premium on a heart failure survivor; impassable. The tough realities of the mental doubt that would have plagued him on his return to the game; insurmountable.

Muamba’s heart is beating once more, but it is broken once again. He may have yearned to return, but a Comeback King he was never to be crowned.

For all of the forfeited further financial riches a lengthy career would have brought Fabrice Muamba, and talent like his doesn’t come cheap, the saying goes that you cannot put a price on life. As Bolton Wanderers chairman Phil Gartside ascertained: “"The most important thing is that Fabrice and his family have the rest of their lives ahead of them." And so, agonisingly, begrudgingly, Fabrice Muamba is forced to accept that, as Clarke before him, his playing days are over.

The consolation? Life goes on.

And life goes on for Bolton Wanderers too. The plight of Muamba was the punctuation in a disastrous season for Owen Coyle’s side, the epitome of adversity sprawled across the ugly face of a relegation campaign.  But on the dawning of this new Championship season, new blood, new hope. The Bolton heart beats again too.

From the squad that competed in the Premiership, key players remain. Kevin Davies, Zat Knight and Sam Ricketts are not ready to desert the Bolton cause just yet, having each signed new contracts this summer. Talented, if injury-plagued, midfielders Stuart Holden, Mark Davies and Lee Chung-Yong have the ability befitting a stage greater than The Championship. Talent which may yet drag The Trotters back into the big time. And from deep within the confines of the Reebok Stadium the scent of that seasonally lauded ‘Championship know-how’ emanates.

Pratley has been, and left, here before. For Great British Olympian Marvin Sordell, familiarity. And in summer signing Matt Mills Bolton have a seasoned Championship campaigner. Whether signing him after a calamitous campaign at Leicester City is a matter of luck or judgement by Coyle, time will tell.

One thing that is for sure, however, is that, without the industry and presence of Fabrice Muamba, Bolton Wanderers will have a chasm in the centre of their midfield. Keith Andrews will have to show more substance than he did playing for the Republic of Ireland in the European Championships this summer, and more nous than he ever did during floundering spells at Premiership level.

 But the squad that Bolton have is as strong as any other that they will pit their wits against this season. The tag of bookmakers’ favourites is, for Bolton, a badge of honour in a division so competitive, testament to the depth and quality of both their squad and their manager. The odds on his side short, the length in his tooth contrasted, Owen Coyle has an opportunity to repay the faith that has been shown in him.

Football, and life, is cyclical. And as one life, but thankfully not that life, ends for Fabrice Muamba, another starts for Bolton Wanderers. Owen Coyle’s side bear the hallmarks of Championship pacemakers.  

 

A Pointless Penalty

A Pointless Penalty

Jamie Barnard on how the latest points deduction imposed upon Portsmouth is an injustice...

 

It was late April 2003 and irony was dripping from the walls deep down in the bowels of Leicester City’s Walkers Stadium. Chairmen of the Football League’s seventy-two clubs had just voted on a proposal to impose points deductions on clubs entering administration. Seventy-one had assented, one objector. To the host, and Leicester City Chairman, the solitary demurring hand belonged.

If the Football League’s Annual General Meeting was close to home, the subject matter was even closer. Just six months prior Leicester City had themselves been placed in administration, riddled with debt. Adjacent to the threshold those seventy-one other chairmen had crossed upon arrival at the Walkers Stadium, collection tins had found parity with those holding them; shaken, rattled.

For Leicester City fans an additional outlay to add to the match day expenditure; contributions to funds to save their club. A supporter’s trust sprung into existence. No points deductions, but plenty lost. The punch that administration packed was being felt on the terraces.

Fast forward nine years and the same scene has been played out at football grounds up and down the country, however on these stages a new protagonist now resides. The points deduction.

In the midst of what are crucial days for Portsmouth in the fight for their survival, the Football League dealt another blow to the club earlier this month with the announcement that they will begin their campaign in League One with a penalty of ten points. Pay up Pompey, Pompey pay up. But the cost to Portsmouth will be in points as well as pounds.

From Premiership to stricken ship in three seasons, right now Fratton Park bears the resemblance of a rudderless ship. Above the Pompey chimes, alarm bells sound loudest and with the Football League’s latest penalty there’s every chance that next May Day will bring with it another relegation for the two-time FA Cup winners.

Concluding a season with fewer points than those won on football pitches up and down the country stinks of familiarity for Pompey. A points deduction for financial reasons is no novel burden for the football club hailing from Charles Dickens’ city.  Deductions in both the Premier League and the Championship aided their relegation from each of English football’s top two tiers. Great Expectations dashed, Hard Times, Fratton Park a very, very Bleak House.

Relegation and insolvency have history when it comes to football clubs. And some would claim it’s vicious and circular. Relegation and the decreased revenue streams such a plunge brings has many times before been the catalyst for a club’s entering into administration.

Groundhog Day. Portsmouth Football Club is spiralling.

 With nails already in the Pompey coffin there are several parties vying to be the one to hammer the final one in place. The Football League appear to be one. Hope for Pompey came in the form of prospective buyers Portpin, and former owner Balram Chainrai, but administrator Trevor Birch has already admitted that sanctions, of which a points deduction was one, have left the prospective new owners ‘reeling’.

Another of the parties is a collective of eight current Portsmouth players who are refusing to renege on lucrative contracts. The principles, legality and morality of such a stance is no black and white issue, the consequences of this stance being maintained an extremely blue and white one, with specs of crimson.

There may well be valid reasons as to why these eight players should refuse proposals intended to save the club, but for supporters faced with the prospect of losing that club, understanding why Tal Ben Haim won’t surrender the final year of his reported £35,000 per week contract is, to put it simply, difficult.

The conflict between a contract given and contract earned thus becomes a bone of contention. But these are the contracts handed out by owners who arrived at Portsmouth long after that fateful day at the Walkers Stadium, long after the Football League began talking of ‘fit and proper’. Now washed, how fit and proper were the hands of those who once held Portsmouth Football Club?

Justified it would be that Portsmouth fans bemoaned the hypocrisy of a governing body which has imposed sanctions to supposedly solve ‘the problem’ of administration, whilst simultaneously failing to regulate the ‘fit and proper’ owners that have been allowed to get clubs such as Portsmouth into such difficulties. After all, these sanctions were born of the same era.

And the great intention of introducing the points deduction? Deterrence.

Back in 2003, chairman of the Football League Sir Brian Mawhinney, who proposed the points penalty, said: "My own view is that after this has been in a few years you'll see less clubs going into administration because they will see it as an incentive. I would expect the number of clubs going into administration to decrease."

Since then, over twenty football clubs have been in administration.

If there is one thing that English football should take from the Portsmouth fable, it is that the points deduction hits hardest in all of the wrong places. When the horse has bolted, when the villains have exited stage, the points deduction comes into its element. Righteous and noble, it preaches to the wrong crowd.

For what do fans, players and staff have to learn from misjudgements and mistakes made by powers beyond all of their control?

If, and hopefully when, Portsmouth kick off their League One campaign against neighbours AFC Bournemouth in mid-August, the supporters that used to pack the Fratton End so vociferously in better times will be the ones feeling the pointless points deduction. As Birch said when a further deduction was announced: “"The fans, players and staff have suffered enough for something for which they weren't responsible. We feel it is unjustified for the club to be punished further.”

The Football League has persevered with a sanction for nine years which has long proved unfit for purpose. Clearly no deterrent, a hindrance to clubs intentions of achieving financial stability by handicapping them to the degree that they often fall further down the footballing ladder, punishment for those clearing up the mess left by their predecessors.

Were there a vote taken on the issue now, there would surely be more than just the one lone objector. More empathetic hands would likely be raised; Pompey’s pain has been felt by others. Whether the hand belonging to Portsmouth Football Club would be seen as the votes were cast around the table is a different matter.

Pompey are on their knees.

Credit Tal Ben Haim photo 'the-e' via Flickr

Credit fans photo 'ca1951rr' via Flickr

Credit Fratton Park photo 'beefy_n1' via Flickr

 

Finding Love in a Hopeless Place

Jamie Barnard on André Villas-Boas' second chance at Tottenham Hotspur...

André Villas-Boas is on the rebound. Less than six months after being callously cast aside by Chelsea he finds himself entering into a relationship with near neighbours and arch rivals Tottenham Hotspur. One man’s loss is another’s gain.

For Tottenham, Villas-Boas is anything but sloppy seconds. Appointed as Carlo Ancelotti’s successor late last June, Chelsea owner Roman Abramovich had snared his man after an expensive and lengthy pursuit. Having led FC Porto to a hat trick of domestic trophies in his first season, including overseeing an undefeated league campaign for The Dragons en route to the title, Villas-Boas was hot property.

Abramovich got his hands burnt.

Young, fresh, exuberant, Villas-Boas was everything that Chelsea had failed to be in the preceding season. Successful, a European champion, mesmerising, Villas-Boas was everything Abramovich wished Chelsea to be in the forthcoming season.

With a core of ageing players, seemingly on the decline, Abramovich’s enthusiasm had gone much the same way as the champagne from Chelsea’s last trophy celebration. Flat.

André Villas-Boas is not a man who wastes time with flirting or foreplay. Early on his mark was made, his intent signalled. Frank Lampard unfancied, whispers told a tale of a disgruntled Didier Drogba and a disenchanted Nicolas Anelka departed. But, unfortunately for Villas-Boas, whilst transformation was the intention, revolution became the reality.

To the oft alluded to Chelsea player power, the owner-manager relationship had again fallen victim at Stamford Bridge. The romance was whirlwind, the honeymoon period barely concluded before divorce proceedings had begun. "The board would like to record our gratitude for his work and express our disappointment that the relationship has ended so early" the Chelsea website read. Tainted love.

Lessons learned, during his unveiling at White Hart Lane Villas-Boas claimed: “I've learned in a club you have to trust the right people at the right time”. Misplaced trust, betrayal. Tricked once, Villas-Boas is not about to be fooled again.

Fanciful, ornate, poetic, Spurs have been enjoying a footballing purple patch of late. But with each fateful Champions League-winning penalty that Chelsea struck in Munich, the future history of Tottenham Hotspur was shaped. Out of the Champions League for the forthcoming season thanks to Chelsea’s success, the Spurs go marching on, but with two steps forward and one back. Nearly men, nearly again.

The club of Bill Nicholson, Ricky Villa, Hoddle and Gascoigne, Tottenham Hotspur have enjoyed a long and happy marriage with attractive football. They are besotted by the beautiful game, their love re-kindled under Harry Redknapp. Modric, mercurial. Adebayor, borrowed goods of the highest quality. Van Der Vaart, the petrol forecourt flowers bought in deadline day haste but nevertheless an exquisite talent deceptively disguised by his measly price tag.

Glory, glory Tottenham Hotspur. Almost.

In the purple patch, a stain. A deteriorating relationship between Redknapp and chairman Levy inevitably brought separation. Courted by England or courting England, it was never clear. Playing the field, playing the press, playing the game. Levy was not for playing and the new contract Redknapp coveted will now most likely be found outside of North London.

And so, taking over where Redknapp left off, Villas-Boas walks into a job where his first priority will be to stop any form of decline. The climb back to this level was a long one for Spurs, one they will not want to make again. Champions League football is where Redknapp set the bar and, having had a taste of it before, Tottenham’s top talents want more of it.

Modric will leave. Van Der Vaart barely has the staying power to last 90 minutes, never mind more than three years at a club. Adebayor was only on loan. The exception? Prized asset Gareth Bale has penned a new deal having himself previously made murmurs of Champions League football. He was born to play for Spurs.

Tottenham’s great hope is staying; they await the arrival of the glory.

And Villas-Boas’ intentions are indeed glorious. In his first press conference as Tottenham manager he spoke of a desire to retain Adebayor, he seduced with talk of aiming for a first league title since 1961. Arriving with him as assistant is Steffen Freund, a man steeped in Spurs’ culture, immortalised in the club’s hall of fame. In this partnership if Villas-Boas is the seduction, Freund is the contraception.

For André Villas-Boas this is a second chance. He has been loved and he has been lost, but in Tottenham Hotspur he may just have found a partner for life. At Spurs, however, he will need the very one thing that he was not afforded by Chelsea, time.

Here he will not find the obtrusive personalities that prevented him implementing the style that had served him so well on a deeply-engrained Chelsea squad. A little patience will give him the opportunity to build on the progressive work done by his predecessor Redknapp. Villas-Boas has the chance to prove himself once more.

And if he can do all of the above, they may just re-name it ‘White Heart Lane’.

Sleeping Giants

 SLEEPING GIANTS

Jamie Barnard on how fresh investment at Nottingham Forest and Leeds United could mean a return to happier times for both clubs...

Whisper it quietly, but 2013 is the year of an awakening. As we edge closer towards the dawning of the 2012-13 football season, two of English football’s sleeping giants are being shaken from their slumber. Nottingham Forest and Leeds United, herculean in stature, swathed in history, have both announced impending investment.

For Nottingham Forest, Kuwaiti wealth from the Al-Hasawi family. For Leeds United, an as yet elusive benefactor. But history this rich does not come for cheap. The pockets are sure to be deep.

After too long in the footballing doldrums, a reason to hope. But at these two clubs if hope springs eternal, despair resides perpetually. Recent years have leaked a blot in the history books of both clubs, a plunge to the depths of their existences with inglorious spells in English football’s third tier. Three years for both.

At the City Ground, investment from the Al-Hasawis is sure to be heralded. With the premature passing of former owner Nigel Doughty last season, so too came the end of a complex ownership structure which had long proved obtrusive to investment. If there were too many fingers in this Nottingham Forest pie, it was also laced with a spoiled broth.

But every cloud has a silver lining and silver is a colour seldom seen at Forest this century.

Currently completing due diligence for the two-time European Cup winners, Fawaz Al-Hasawi has already proclaimed that: ““future on-field and off-field success of Nottingham Forest is at the heart of our plans”. The mist is rolling in from the Trent and Al-Hasawi must now mull how to revitalise a giant which has, in recent times, been brought to its knees by the weight of crippling expectation.

It is a debilitating weight felt likewise over at Elland Road. Two clubs, similar, yet different in so many ways. Juxtaposed by Brian Clough, defined by the glory of their forefathers.

At Leeds United the transformation is already underway. Neil Warnock, the old taskmaster, is, in an Olympic summer, building a British backbone; Adam Drury and Jason Pearce, both signed. Lee Peltier, the house-warming present awaiting his new owners as soon as the deal is concluded. Not quite the best of British, but that bulldog spirit emanates strong.

Paddy Kenny, a man rarely seen to shy away from a fight, is rumoured to be on his way to re-join Warnock. And Paul Green has penned a two-year contract. A central midfielder toughened by a football ladder he has climbed right from the very first rung of non-league football all the way up to the highest echelon of a Euro2012 campaign with the Republic of Ireland this summer, Green is now a dogged contender.

They say a team reflects their manager’s image. Warnock is from the Steel City.

Irksome, irritating, Warnock can be the both. But his passion is unquestionable, his thirst seemingly unquenched. At the age of 63 too often has he been the secondary lead, outstanding in the dress rehearsal only to be cast aside on the main stage of the Premier League. His Leeds script is littered with last chance.

When the due diligence is done at Nottingham Forest, provided no surprises arise, the Al-Hasawis are sure to invest in the playing squad as a matter of urgency. The nineteenth-placed finish that Forest scraped their way to last season; unacceptable. The rumour is that the kitty will be £10million, who will be handed that kitty is not so clear. But to a club which has seen player of the year Gareth McCleary and captain Wes Morgan, unbeatable but seemingly not un-buyable, snared by clubs with greater financial clout in the last year alone, such rumoured riches are re-assuring. The only club pulling up any Trees now will be Nottingham Forest.

The aim for both will be the same: promotion as a matter of urgency. Leeds United and Nottingham Forest have overslept.

Added financial impetus will give both clubs a greater chance of success than they have previously had. Leeds fans will hope to be free from the clenches of the tight-fisted Ken Bates, Forest fans implored Doughty to loosen the purse strings for years. But the path they will be hoping to tread is not one without precedent. Queens Park Rangers took years and numerous changes to get it right, although rather encouragingly for Leeds fans it was eventually with Warnock that they did so. And Leicester City showed last season that money and success share no simple relationship.

The only guarantee is that in the forthcoming season The Championship is set to be as keenly fought as it has been for years. Forest will have the wealth to give them a chance. Leeds United are sure to march on. Leicester City will try again. And a resurgent Sheffield Wednesday will hope to capitalise on the momentum which brought them back into The Championship from League One.

This year there are several Goliaths, not so many Davids.

Leeds United and Nottingham Forest may never again reach the heady heights of European prominence; the footballing beanstalk may not stretch that far. But whilst these two giants of the Football League have been languishing outside of England’s elite league, their seats at the top table of the English game have been on loan only. Temporary custodians such as Bolton Wanderers have recently vacated, Wigan Athletic have surely sung their swansong too many times to remain put again. The natural order could be about to be restored.

Fee, fi, fo, thumb, Leeds and Nottingham Forest want promotion.

Credit image of City Ground: via Supernova3688 on Flickr

Credit image of Elland Road: via Chris Robertshaw on Flickr

 Credit image of Neil Warnock: via Flickr