To mark World Poetry Day, Leeds fan and celebrated poet Matt Abbott has created a bespoke poem capturing the last twelve months as a Leeds fan.
The Trust invited a select group of fans to help bring it to life and put it all together with a video of our spiritual home.
Even by our standards, it's been a hell of a year.
Pockets of euphoria,
on a planet gripped by fear.
Football fans in general
saw their past time destroyed.
But for Leeds fans in particular,
the absence is a void.
That beaming Beeston beacon.
hallowed, but hollow.
From plastic seats to pixels –
fragmented as we follow.
From The Only Place for Us
to the only place that's not.
In living rooms on sofas:
glued to every pass and shot.
We watched 'em making history:
spiral up towards the stars.
Lob the monkey off their back
and seal promotion.
We watched 'em lift the trophy
that healed so many scars...
but a sea of cardboard crowdies
replaced a cauldron of emotion.
If we're honest - it hurts a bit.
deep down.
Not being there, in the stadium,
to live it out in person.
That once in a lifetime moment,
defining in our history...
I just hope that over time,
the feeling doesn't worsen.
Bielsa's boys have tantalised
every step of the way.
But in the meantime,
some of Revie's boys departed.
we said goodbye to 'Bites Yer Legs',
'Big' Jack, and 'Mr Reliable'.
But to only do that virtually...
it left us broken hearted.
Give us fizzy pints in plastic cups.
Queues resembling scrums.
Give us elbows to the head
whenever we score.
Give us jam-packed on the shuttle bus.
Shins covered in bruises.
Give us drizzle
through a dismal 0-0 draw.
There's light at the end of the Lowfields tunnel.
If we've come this far, we'll make it all the way.
Soon, we'II flock to Elland Road:
United once again.
Stand side-by-side
to watch the Peacocks play.