It was difficult to know how to celebrate Pat Bamford’s goal against Peterborough because it was difficult to comprehend it had actually happened. Pat didn’t look surprised, though. Ever the enigma, Pat Bamford turning into Tony Yeboah might just be the most logical Pat Bamford move ever.

Pascal Struijk struggled to reinvent himself while grappling with an early twenties identity crisis, his form only returning once he returned to the Big Sexy Pirate origins that launched him in the first place. But Bamford is different. His whole career has been a story of constant reinvention, from perennial Chelsea loanee to England international, with various stages of highs and lows in between and after — Entitled Lord Bamford, Grizzled Champo Bambo, Podcast Pat, Premier League Hotshot, Relegation Scapegoat. At Peterborough, his latest incarnation produced an unexpected twist. He does volleys now!

In an interview with LUTV, Bryn Law asked Bamford whether scoring twice in his last two games has made him feel “that things are going again”. Bamford grinned. “To be honest, I never thought they weren’t,” he replied. “Everyone says, ‘Oh, his confidence is down,’ but it wasn’t. I was just frustrated or angry I wasn’t starting. I knew as soon as I started that I’d score.”

That is The Thing with Bamford. With every miss or duff touch he reveals his weaknesses as a striker to the world, but his strengths have always been more intangible, and his self-belief has always been his biggest asset. In 2018, he was an injury-prone Champo striker when he turned down a Republic of Ireland call-up. At the time, he’d scored more goals in League One than the Premier League. But he didn’t want to play for the Republic of Ireland because he believed he could play for England, even if nobody else did. And he was right.

The prevailing thought going into this season was that a year under the radar would do Pat good. The defining images of Bamford’s last two campaigns were him crying on the bench at Wolves after his body had failed him yet again, and the entirety of Elland Road holding their head in their hands as he stepped up to miss a crucial penalty against Newcastle. Come the start of 2023/24, Bamford was injured once more, Leeds had spent big on Joel Piroe, and Daniel Farke had a gang of other exciting attackers nobody else had figured out what to do with yet.

After five years dealing with the pressure of being Leeds’ number 9, it was a chance for Bamford to sit back and let others worry about scoring goals and handling the scrutiny. Except he hasn’t acted like someone who’s happy to let others steal the spotlight. After all the injuries, misses, and abuse, he still believes in himself when nobody else does. Why else would he step forward to miss another penalty at Stoke unless he was confident he was going to score? He knows everything he does is an invitation for someone to call him a wanker on Twitter, but he doesn’t let that stop him launching a podcast with a comedian or waiting to reveal his new haircut until he steps off the bench in front of 36,000 people.

Football fans crave players being bold enough to show some personality, then deride them when they dare. I’m as guilty as anyone. For the last few weeks I’ve wondered whether Bamford was (at best) finding a healthy fix away from the game that reduced him to tears and gave people a platform to send death threats to his dog, or (at worst) desperately attempting to stay relevant. Before the trip to the King Power in October, Leeds tweeted a compilation of goals against Leicester. Bamford lashing the ball into Kasper Schmeichel’s top corner felt like watching a different striker from a different age. Before his goalscoring return against Birmingham, it seemed like months since he’d even touched the ball, let alone missed a chance.

With one snap, crackle, and wallop at Peterborough, people were looking at Bamford with their head in their hands once again. This time, it was Wilf Gnonto and Archie Gray. Willy scored a bicycle kick from heaven at the same stage of the FA Cup last season, Archie once lobbed a Scum goalkeeper at Elland Road from forty yards; neither could believe they’d just witnessed the goal of their lifetimes. Farke’s casual smirk from the sideline suggested at least one person at Leeds shares Bamford’s belief in himself. What was the surprise? “Yes, it was alright,” Farke joked afterwards. “The whole world after this goal will praise him. It’s a world class goal. I have no other words.” ⬢