Not all short men

One feature of the landscape at Old Trafford on Wednesday night was so obvious that even Premier League feed co-commentator Leon Osman couldn’t miss it. Lisandro Martinez, he said, was a man who was “heavily criticised for height” when he came in, and has to make up for it somehow. The somehow, that Osman was talking about, was trying to clean Pat Bamford’s teeth with his football boots. But there are other ways of succeeding at high levels from low levels without involving Bamford’s face.

Relying on a caretaker manager to see Leeds through a visit to in-form rivals was a gargantuan task, but Wilfried Gnonto made spectacularly short work of cutting Goliath down to size.

Without so much as twisting the upper half of his body, Gnonto brought under control the return ball from Bamford with a couple of neat touches then, without waiting for any of the four red shirts surrounding him to come and have a go, took a whack at it.

Our WonderWilf didn’t seem surprised when his strike hit the back of the net, marking the moment with an understated celebration, pointing to himself and then to the hallowed (by fools) Lancastrian turf as though to say ‘I belong here’.

How Gnonto could take giving Leeds the lead at Old Trafford inside sixty seconds in such short stride, ‘no biggie’, is unfathomable to your average Leeds fan.

“In this position, you don’t have time to think so much — I know my ability and I tried and it went well this time,” he said in his post-match interview. Then the teenager even had the temerity to say, “I hope to do another one Sunday.” This level of self-worth is far beyond most nineteen year olds — so is realising how talented you are and not becoming an arsehole in the process.

The wisdom of Michael Owen tells us that Gnonto is one of the transfers of the season, but it wasn’t always that way. In terms of expectations, young Willy had an easier ride than most new signings. At the point of his arrival, fans were spent from a taxing transfer window, much too deflated by Bamba Dieng disappointment to bother too closely inspecting this afterthought, this consolation prize.

But they say the best things come in small packages, and this is certainly true of Elland Road’s surprise baby. He’s ours, and he’s perfect.

On Wednesday night, Pat Bamford felt the full wrath of someone whose introduction to the Premier League wasn’t so smooth.

Becoming a landmark signing in the dawn of a long-overdue new era at one of the world’s biggest football clubs is probably enough to take, before the football world begins to ask questions of whether your body is ‘okay’ to fulfil your role on the pitch.

Poor Lisandro Martinez. He was simply born, grew up, and decided he wanted to defend. He can’t help being short, can he?

Good on him, I say. It takes real guts to come through years of tearing down Peter Crouch pin-ups from your bedroom wall and crying yourself to sleep because Sean Dyche will never accept you to make peace with your limitations and pursue a career as a centre-half.

By now, he’s immune to jokes about people like him. On Wednesday night he couldn’t wait to show us how totally over it he is by throwing his leg into an imaginary stirrup and mounting Pat’s torso like a jockey.

I’ll have whatever therapy he’s having, thanks. A weaker man would have responded to all that needless criticism by behaving like an angry troll — why didn’t someone tell Napoleon that a dickhead haircut is the fastest route, dare I say the best shortcut, to overcompensation?

Whatever the heck is up with Martinez, it’s lazy to call it ‘short man syndrome’. Wilf Gnonto is a fine example of not only accepting but thriving off the legs you’ve been dealt in life. ⬢