It’s taken me five years to realise it, but I think I’m owed a refund for my match ticket from Leeds United 2-0 QPR in November 2019. I’m partially colour blind and the clash between Leeds’ resplendent white jerseys and QPR’s ugly mint shirts was baffling in more ways than one. The colour clash was so bad that I imagine it would have fooled anyone, even those who can recite the entire Pantone colour code list in their sleep. As the two teams lined up for kick-off, 35,000 fans scratched their heads at the same time and (probably) pondered the same question: which idiot signed off on this?

I mean, would their blue and white hoops have been so bad? Sat in the lower tier of the Kop, I settled in for the game and spent the first ten minutes formulating a plan to decipher what was going on.

The EFL’s rules state: ‘When away from home a Club shall play in a registered kit which is clearly distinguishable (shirts, shorts and socks) from those of their opponents. The League reserves the right to relax this requirement in respect of shorts where appropriate and after consultation with match officials.’

To breach this rule is a ‘strict liability offence’ which, after a quick Google search, has me pondering if I’m outside of the statute of limitations to make a claim against QPR, given they are strictly liable. I’d better give Levi Solicitors a call.

There’s obviously some consideration taken when deciding what kits teams can wear in certain matches. Colour clashes, patterns and, sometimes, the modern hyper-commercialised nonsense of a home team wearing their change shirt in a tasteless marketing ploy. Having said that, I’d have greatly appreciated it if Leeds had walked out in charcoal and pink that day to add a much greater contrast to QPR’s off-mint. I’m fairly confident that there aren’t too many people whose struggles on the colour spectrum involve a charcoal-mint deficiency, but if there are then I’m sorry for not considering your needs.

I was told I had some colour blindness when I was 11. A school nurse put me in front of a mosaic and asked me to outline the number in the colour pattern. I couldn’t. She said that I had to get seven correct and I couldn’t even muster one. In hindsight, I was probably a bit lazy and just wanted to leave, as my colour blindness isn’t quite at the level of a dog, but it is definitely a problem.

It’s enough of a problem that it ruined a whole game of football for me, put it that way. It nearly did the same for Leeds’ former reserve goalkeeper Will Huffer about nine months when playing against Newcastle’s Under-23s. As both teams prepared for kick-off, Huffer knew there was something up, as he told The Athletic: “I hadn’t noticed until we were in the tunnel. Newcastle were in aqua-blue and we were in white, under the floodlights. When I got out on the pitch it was that sinking feeling of, ‘Oh no.’ The referee was kicking up a right fuss. I told him I couldn’t tell the difference. He said, ‘Well, I can.’ Yeah fine, but that’s not how it works. Someone went and grabbed some training kit.”

Thankfully, the Leeds fans around me weren’t as ignorant as the ref that Huffer had to deal with. I did feel some sense of satisfaction that most were struggling with the colour clash, in the stadium and at home. It was a little like listening to the game on the radio, despite being there, as I found myself reacting to sounds more so than images. By the time Tyler Roberts put Leeds in front in the 39th minute, I’d accepted my fate. I was totally reliant on the reaction of the South Stand to see any goal at that end, and I’m still convinced they only knew what had happened as the net bulged with the weight of TyRo’s precise strike.

I remember feeling somewhat confident I might see a little better when the second half started and Leeds attacked the Kop. After all, this was Marcelo Bielsa’s Leeds United, all the action would be in front of the opposing team’s goal until said opponent won a dodgy free-kick or corner from which they would score. However, I forgot to factor in one key element: the floodlights.

It was November and the clocks had gone back, so once the floodlights came on just after half-time, it diminished the experience even further. The gold names and numbers printed on QPR’s shirts had proved semi-distinguishable in the first half but that was soon wasted, obscured by the light from above. The game descended into a Victorian village kickabout in my eyes, the glory of Bielsa’s football lost because somebody thought blue and white hoops clashed with Leeds’ shirt.

It was a truly bizarre decision. We recently saw Leeds play Sheffield United at home, where the away side wore their traditional red and white stripes and didn’t even remotely clash with the white of Leeds. I was able to see both goals very clearly, even at the other end of the pitch as I’m now in the Cheese Wedge.

Back in November 2019, our old friend Jack Harrison scored Leeds’ second goal after a misplaced one-two pass, or perhaps even he couldn’t tell who was who and bounced the ball off a defender by mistake. Either way, it all unfolded about ten yards in front of me and I couldn’t even really work out what had happened until the ball was in the net and Harrison jogged off celebrating. Liam Cooper played a pass directly to a QPR player a few minutes later and, despite Coops’ penchant for madness, I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and blame it on the jerseys.

Leeds play QPR on 9 November so I’ve taken the liberty of looking up our opponent’s away shirt for 2024/25, and I’m pleased to confirm that it’s black. I look forward to seeing Leeds line out in their dark navy third shirt that day. At least this time round, I’ll be able to use the Red Bull logo to differentiate between the two. Small mercies, eh? ⬢

This article is from issue three of The Square Ball magazine. Get your copy here.