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Nottingham Forest defender Michael Dawson gestures to the linesman that Kemar Roofe handled the ball into their goal, with big freak goalkeeper Costel Pantilimon mimicking him. Neither are separated from the lino by plexiglass.
Haymaker

Sleight of hand

Words by: Chris McMenamy

Nottingham Forest at home evokes many different memories, such as Ten Goal Tuesday and Javi Gracia’s finest hour, but there’s one very specific night that has stuck with me. Leeds United 1-1 Nottingham Forest in October 2018, under the lights at Elland Road in the rock and roll days of Marcelo Bielsa’s first season at the club.

Leeds fans have niche and long lasting gripes. Just ask Gordon Watson. Mine has been nagging away at me for several years but rarely have I openly voiced my disdain for Michael Dawson and why it reached boiling point one night almost eight years ago.

“I have a little black book with two players in it, and if I get a chance to do them I will,” Jack Charlton once told Geoffrey Green in an interview with The Times. “I will make them suffer before I pack this game in. If I can kick them four years over the touch line, I will.” Holding on to minor infractions, real or perceived, is an integral part of being Leeds United. Jack Charlton’s little black book may have been metaphorical, but the idea remained the same. Never forget — and whatever you do, certainly don’t forgive.

To most people, Dawson was just that Spurs centre-back who played a couple of matches for England. Prior to that meeting with Forest, my main memories of Dawson were watching him give away a needless last minute penalty at White Hart Lane as Leeds came from behind twice to draw with his Spurs in the FA Cup.

But seven years later, an older, allegedly wiser Dawson appeared from the bench at Elland Road when his beloved Nottingham Forest came to face the whirlwind that was Bielsa’s Leeds.

Forest took the lead early on when Jack Robinson scored from a corner, United’s Achilles heel. The game followed a noticeable pattern under Bielsa — Leeds attacked relentlessly and the opponent did everything they could to avoid any football being played. Phil Hay described it as being ‘well organised’ and Aitor Karanka’s side, to their credit, did a job on Leeds. But they were also malignant time wasters. Referee Geoff Eltringham did little to curtail the incessant infractions, so by the time Karanka introduced Dawson from the bench in the 51st minute, the match had become a powder keg.

Bielsa reacted with attacking substitutions and although 17-year-old Jack Clarke gave Leeds a spark, it took an 84th minute Kemar Roofe handball to not only bring Leeds level, but set Elland Road alight.

Roofe ran off celebrating wildly, while Dawson and co, including comically tall goalkeeper Costel Pantilimon, went running to the linesman to protest. They should have been told that there’d be five minutes added on to allow for all the time they’d wasted up to that point.

Amid the ruckus, Pontus Jansson made a beeline for Dawson, who ran towards the officials with the ball under his arm, yet another example of gamesmanship. Then, it all kicked off:

Jansson and Dawson collided as the big Swede tried to retrieve the ball and restart the game, prompting Dawson to swing a hand at his face. Some would call it a punch and as memories fade over the years, I’ve convinced myself it was a Mike Tyson-esque haymaker. Much like Roofe’s handball, the ref saw nothing of the Dawson scuffle and my bias has left me remembering the injustice of Dawson not being sent off much more than the blatant swinging of an unnatural looking arm towards the ball on the goalline.

It still amazes me that Jansson didn’t go down in that moment. I don’t think a Leeds match passed without Jansson being administered treatment for one thing or another, but perhaps his macho nature would have been called into question. He had also been in the spotlight after saying referee Jeremy Simpson’s performance in a recent Leeds match against Brentford was a “robbery”, remarks that earned him a one-match ban.

This was his first game back and he had Dawson swinging for him. There was a sense of exasperation around Elland Road with recent refereeing performances at the time. Shock horror, I know, but I feel like that’s why this match, and specifically this incident, always stuck with me.

Dawson also talked up his Forest team “hunting Leeds” the following season as both sides chased promotion. You might remember how that ended — Leeds won the league while Forest missed out on the play-offs in hilarious circumstances on the final day.

We’re occasionally subjected to Dawson’s punditry on Sky Sports and, if you’re desperate, you might see him in their studio looking gormless while staring into a little telly as Hull take on Bristol City. His ‘punch’ at Jansson went unpunished, much like his teammate Lewis Grabban kicking the ball away twice when Leeds looked to take quick free-kicks.

Nottingham Forest are low hanging fruit when it comes to fan aggro, mostly for historical reasons. Despite the aforementioned Ten Goal Tuesday, their history with Brian Clough and everything else in between, the pejorative term aimed at Forest fans is ‘scab’, relating to the 1984-85 miners’ strike. While the majority of people shouting it on Friday night may be too young to remember it, or even know what they’re saying, it won’t stop them. If they’re looking for something else to fuel righteous anger with, might I suggest rewatching Leeds United 1-1 Nottingham Forest from October 2018?

Come up with derogatory slogans for Dawson and co at your own leisure. It hasn’t taken me long to think of a few.

(Image by Nigel French, via Alamy)

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