Cantona (29 page)

Leeds then embarked on a short trip to Ireland, where they beat Irish champions Shelbourne 2–0 in front of 10,000 spectators, most of whom had bought their tickets to see Éric in the flesh. Cantona ‘turned on the style’, according to a fawning report in the local press, hitting the post with a fearsome 20-yard drive. But ‘the wild man of French football’ (another telling
Post
headline) still had to make his first appearance at Eiland Road. He did so on 15 February, on the very day Isabelle unpacked her cases in their new home near Roundhay Park, where Éric would sometimes play football with his son Raphaël once the young family settled there for good later in the spring.
²⁰
Leeds had invited Swedish champions IFK Gothenburg to take part in a friendly which attracted fewer than 6,000 spectators to a stadium that could accommodate five times that number. There would have been even fewer, of course, had Cantona not played. The game itself (which United lost 1–0) would have remained a dispensable footnote in the story of Éric’s season, had not a solitary fan started chanting ‘Ooh-aah, Cantona!’ after a deft flick from the new folk hero. Part of the crowd (some of whom had turned up wearing Breton shirts, berets and the obligatory string of onions) joined in spontaneously, and one of the most famous terrace songs of the 1990s was born.
²¹

Cantona fever spread at a barely credible speed within two weeks of Éric’s arrival at Leeds. New words were put to the old Leeds anthem ‘Marching on Together’.
‘Marchons ensemble’
didn’t scan perfectly, but was great fun to sing. A young couple was said – in all likelihood apocryphally – to have christened their new-born with the middle name Cantona. The fervour displayed so dramatically in the stands (and which turned to hysterical hatred once Éric left for Manchester United) intrigued a sociology PhD student from the University of Salford named Anthony C. King to such an extent that he published a paper on the topic of
The Problem of Identity and the Cult of Éric Cantona
several years later (in 1995). Deconstruction in football would normally be a jocular euphemism for tackling
à la
Joey Barton. King, now head of the Philosophy and Sociology Department at Exeter University, applied this methodology with rather more finesse. He made a strong case for understanding the ‘cult of Cantona’ as a collective crystallization of a number of frustrations, urges and fantasies peculiar to the working class of that part of England, which were then externalized through ritualistic channels familiar to anyone who inhabits the football world. The fans clad in replica shirts and Leeds scarves repeating the simple but insistent rhythm of ‘Ooh-ah Cantona’ ad infinitum on their way to Eiland Road . . . give them orange robes, and they may as well chant the Hare Krishna
Maha Mantra
down Oxford Street.

I put some of King’s insights to Leeds supporters, and was surprised by how willing they were to accept them as valid (but not demeaning) interpretations of their own behaviour. ‘Leeds fans did not merely admire Cantona’s manliness or his style,’ for example, ‘but loved him in the way that someone might love their partner.’ (In some cases,
more
than their partner, as the story of one such fan, Gary King, will show later in this book.) The Salford student argued that this emotional transfer was facilitated by the stereotypical view the English held of the French as red-hot lovers, as I found out to my embarrassment when I arrived in England myself (‘Oh, I
do
love your accent!’).

More intriguingly, as King rightly remarked, some groups of Leeds fans (whose opinions were echoed in the fanzine
Marching on Together
) had launched a number of anti-racist initiatives in the late 1980s and early 1990s. They saw in Cantona’s Frenchness a means to assert their own aspirations to cosmopolitanism. This was not the easiest of tasks in a city still reeling from the effects of Thatcherite vandalism, and which had a long way to go before it reinvented itself as a thriving service centre, complete with the first branch of Harvey Nichols outside London. The left-leaning terrace dissidents aimed to achieve supremacy over the hooligan element that had tarnished the club’s image for two decades already. Thanks to Éric, King wrote, ‘the fans were able to distinguish Leeds as a team, symbolically represented by Cantona, that was different and superior [
more skilful, more seductive
] to the rest of the English league’. It was an extraordinary reversal of the xenophobic values which were and still are attached to the Leeds support, in which Éric played a function he had no control of whatsoever. I’ve often referred to the mythical dimension of Cantona, but a psychoanalyst might rather use the word ‘fantasmatic’, as the object of adoration was idealized to such a degree that his performances became – almost – incidental to his worshippers. Howard Wilkinson might not have put things in quite these terms, but was nonplussed all the same. He could live with the aggrandizement of one of his players (which Cantona did absolutely nothing to encourage) as long as his own authority remained unchallenged. It would take a matter of months before he felt it was endangered to the point that a parting of ways presented him with the only opportunity to carry on doing his job as he saw fit.

Éric had played 45 minutes of competitive football since throwing the ball at a referee in December of the previous year, but such was the regard Michel Platini held him in that he did not hesitate to field him from the start in a prestigious friendly held in, of all places, Wembley Stadium, where goals by Alan Shearer and Gary Lineker gave England a flattering 2–0 victory over France on 19 February. Cantona featured for the full 90 minutes, and should have won a penalty when Mark Wright stopped his very first shot at goal with both hands. Most observers agreed that his return to international football had been a success; the one-eyed
Yorkshire Post
even went as far as illustrating its match report with a photograph of the Frenchman that dwarfed the picture of Lineker scoring his 47th goal for England – which put the Spurs centre-forward within two strikes of Bobby Charlton’s all-time record for the national team. And when the players made their way out of the dressing-room, English or French, the gaggle of journalists converged on just one of them: Éric Cantona, who else?

Hardly any questions concerned the game itself, which is all the more surprising since both teams had been drawn in the same group in the forthcoming European Championships. But journalists, British as well as French, were after Éric’s
impressions d’Angleterre.
‘England is just as I expected after watching your game on television in France,’ he told the former. ‘It’s very quick and positive, and the ball is moved to the forwards as fast as possible. Most French players wouldn’t like that, because they prefer to play through midfield, but for a striker like me, I like to get the ball early, and that’s what’s happening, so I’m enjoying myself.’

In truth, Éric had not yet adjusted to the pace of English football, as was shown when Leeds drew 1–1 at Everton the following weekend, an encounter which also marked Cantona’s first live appearance on national British television. Howard Wilkinson sought to temper the expectations of the public when facing ITV’s cameras after the match. ‘Éric has a lot in his favour,’ he said. ‘He’s big, strong and fit and has a terrific build so he can compete easier [
sic
] than, say, someone of five foot nought. And, most important this, it seems he wants to succeed. I’m sure he will. But it’s up to him.’ It was a fair assessment of Cantona’s contribution. A goal had eluded him – just – after he had skipped past the challenges of Dave Watson and Matthew Jackson to find himself with just Everton’s ’keeper Neville Southall to beat, only to see see his shot shave the Welsh international’s far post. But apart from that, Cantona hadn’t posed a real threat to the visitors.

Wilkinson was understandably reluctant to alter his system for the sake of a late recruit, and feared that throwing the footballer-artist into the cauldron of first division football head first would lead to burn-out. In fairness, the manager had informed the player of his intentions from the outset of their relationship. Later on, once Cantona’s match-winning ability had become obvious to all, the Yorkshireman’s reluctance to deviate from his plans would bring accusations of pig-headedness. In late February, however, it simply demonstrated that he was coherent enough in his thinking to make Cantona’s introduction to English football as smooth and trouble-free as possible. Éric himself seemed happy with the walk-on parts Wilkinson gave him; he realized that, following his two-month suspension, he still lacked match fitness and couldn’t be expected to waltz in and lead Leeds to victory through the sheer magnitude of his talent.

The goal he and thousands of Leeds fans had been praying for came six days later, against Luton Town at Eiland Road, when Cantona stepped off the bench after Tony Dorigo sustained an injury on the half-hour mark. Éric was told to move upfield and position himself alongside Lee Chapman, whose convalescence had ended at last. McAllister pierced the Hatters’ defence and side-footed the ball, which Cantona coolly placed in an empty net. Late in the game the finisher turned provider as he headed the ball towards the unmarked Chapman, who rifled his shot past Steve Sutton. Two-nil to Leeds. Gordon Strachan spoke for the whole of the Leeds dressing-room when he said: ‘We do not really mind who scores the goals for us just so long as someone does, but in this case, we were really just as delighted for Éric himself.’ He added: ‘It cannot have been easy for him trying to settle in a completely different environment while attempting to come to terms with a different style of play as well as having a language problem. But we have a lot of time for him and we have been very impressed with the way he has tackled the problems.’ Éric would play more spectacular games for Leeds, but would rarely prove as decisive as he was on that Saturday, 29 February 1992. The maverick had chosen the rogue day of a leap year to open his account in English football.

The media’s response to that performance (‘Stuttering Leeds Lifted By Cantona’ was one headline among many in the same vein) did not alter Wilkinson’s view that Éric was best used when the opposition lacked the physical freshness to close down space as rapidly as in the opening stages of a game. Not unreasonably, he also reminded the doubters: ‘I have not been down a championship road before, and neither have most of my players. So at this stage of the season, with every game like a cup tie, I tend to fall back on the team which started the season and has got us so far.’ So, when February turned into March, Cantona found himself in the dugout again, and had to wait until the 65th minute to take part in a goalless home draw against Aston Villa. The ploy nearly worked, when Éric forced ’keeper Nigel Spink to make a couple of outstanding saves in the last quarter of the match. Leeds had relinquished the lead in the title race to Manchester United by then. Ferguson’s men, who led by a single point, had the advantage of a game in hand, and many Leeds fans found it difficult to understand why their flamboyant Frenchman had not become an automatic choice in Wilkinson’s starting eleven. As Gordon Strachan reminded the fans, while praising Cantona’s ‘first-class attitude’, and regretting that ‘we could not have him at Eiland Road from the start of the season’: ‘You have to remember that when [Éric] joined us, he had not played for six weeks – so it was really like pre-season for him, and we have to break him in gently, though hopefully he will be a big help to us in the final weeks of the season.’ These considered words did little to alter the growing perception that Wilkinson’s measured approach was too rigid by half. The manager, however, would not bow to fan pressure.

When Leeds travelled to Tottenham on 7 March, Éric found himself on the bench again, to be waved onto the pitch with a quarter of an hour to go when defender Mike Whitlow suffered an injury. Leeds, leading by two goals to one at that stage, faced a nervous conclusion to the game. A victory would see them overtake Manchester United in the league table by two points. When, less than sixty seconds after walking onto the turf, Éric laid the ball in the path of Gary McAllister, who doubled Leeds’ advantage, pandemonium erupted in the stand reserved for visiting fans, who had been chanting Cantona’s song non-stop since he had been warming up on the touchline. ‘No one in France gets that sort of reception for running up and down on the side of the pitch,’ a visibly touched Éric confided afterwards. What made it all the more special was that the Cantona clan – his father Albert, his brothers Jean-Marie and Joël – had come from Marseilles to see him play that afternoon. Éric’s heart must have swelled with pride. It hardly mattered that Wilkinson had yet again resisted the temptation to do what a whole city willed him to do and send him on from kick-off. ‘He’s subjected to less pressure when he comes on once the game has started,’ the manager explained, somewhat befuddled that a magnificent away victory could be overshadowed by a perfectly sane selection choice. But overshadowed it was.

Éric had conducted himself irreproachably on and off the pitch since his arrival at Eiland Road. No complaints. No tantrums. No yellow cards. Frank Worthington, a free spirit who had plied his trade at no fewer than fifteen clubs (Leeds among them) in a career which spanned twenty-three years, called him ‘a breath of fresh air on the English scene’. ‘In this country,’ he said, ‘we’ve long had a mistrust of genuinely talented footballers; that’s why I’m glad to see Cantona here.’ But come the next game, Éric could only watch from the sidelines as Leeds folded 1–4 against QPR at Loftus Road. He played the last twenty minutes that time, taking Gary McAllister’s place long after the white flag had been hoisted: Rangers already led by two goals.

Then, at long last, Wilkinson relented. On Saturday 14 March, on the occasion of Wimbledon’s visit to Yorkshire, he deployed the three-pronged attack fans had been clamouring for. Rod Wallace provided width and crosses, Lee Chapman battered the opposition’s centre-backs into submission, Éric Cantona added his
je ne sais quoi
in the ‘hole’, positioning himself just behind the target man. The Dons suffered their heaviest defeat of the campaign, and the final score (5–1) hardly flattered their victors. Chapman beat ’keeper Hans Segers on three occasions to walk away with the match ball. Éric pounced on a mistake by John Scales to run sixty yards and make it 4–1 to the hosts. It was a slaughter; and when a solitary strike by Nigel Clough gave Nottingham Forest a 1–0 win over Manchester United four days later, Leeds found themselves two points clear again at the top of the first division table.