Obviously, I should be writing about Joe Rothwell right now. The man who almost no one inside Elland Road except Daniel Farke expected to change the game. The man he described as a “pure baller” in the aftermath of all that on Monday night. And I will, briefly. Because Rothwell was incredible, controlling a midfield that had looked ragged and unruly all night, taming it like his luscious hair. And I suppose now you’re expecting me to move on to Pascal Struijk. Who yes, scored two goals, in case you missed it. But no.

Instead I’m going to talk about the real “pure baller” of the Leeds United team. Not a pure baller in the way kids on the internet — and apparently a 48-year-old man from Steinhausen — would use the phrase, but in a more literal sense. Back when Joe Rothwell was still just a twinkle in the eye of the loan manager at AFC Bournemouth, I was already fully sold on Dan James.

He is everything modern football is not. This is a man with chalk on his boots and one thing in his mind. He runs, he shoots and, increasingly, he scores. Without wishing to go full ‘Inverting The Pyramid’ on this, he is the sort of player who could have played in the 1950s, flying down mud-ridden wings and celebrating in front of a terrace filled with his schoolmates, flashing a cheeky grin to the girls.

During a first half in which there was plenty of time for chatting, the bloke next to me in the Kop turned to me and said he thought James deserved a better chant. But Dan James’ chant is actually perfect. It’s the sonic and lyrical equivalent of the footballer he is. ‘He’s here, he’s there, he’s every-fucking-where.’ It’s the kind of chant that would presumably be familiar to those fans who stood on the sidelines during the medieval origins of football, without the need to rely on a 20th century pop melody to get its point across. Daniel James is fucking quick — it scares defenders and occasionally his teammates. It creates space and chances without the need for an inverting full-back. I’m sure Dan James knows what xG means, but in a spiritual sense, he absolutely doesn’t know or care about it at all.

Or at least, he didn’t. Because over the course of the last couple of seasons, James has evolved as a player. He is cultured now, he uses his pace to glide into positions where he will be most effective, playing at times like Raheem Sterling at the peak of his powers under Pep Guardiola. He is calm in front of goal and his touch is much improved. You have to wonder if the influence of other members of the squad — the apparently universally-adored Josuha Guilavogui and the aforementioned Joe Rothwell, who seems assured well beyond even his thirty years — have had an influence in this regard. This is Dan James 2.0 who has scored five on his last eight while laying on three more for his teammates.

Now, I’m not a parent — I enjoy pints at Elland Road on a Monday night far too much for that — but I imagine watching his development this season has been a bit like how it feels to be a proud dad watching the growth of a son, the flourishing of a young man who is now more capable and independent.

But there is also a wistfulness for the memories of the child now gone. A more innocent time when instead of moodily listening to My Chemical Romance (I don’t know what young people like now) he used to run around the kitchen screaming, “Stick another dime in the jukebox baby!” (We are reliably informed Dan James actually likes country music, but I don’t know any of those songs either.) Daniel James used to be the — in this case literal — tearaway who took defenders to places they simply did not want to be. Now he is 27, and despite still having the freshest of faces he’s all grown up, in his prime, and ready to lead Leeds United back to the Premier League, just like he was meant to do all those years ago. ⬢