Yeboah, an Akan name, means โour helperโ. Tony Yeboah was a pioneering African footballer whose brave and outspoken stance against racism in European football no doubt helped other African players who came after him. But there are people much better placed than me to talk about that incredible impact. Tony Yeboah helped Leeds to a 5th-place finish and UEFA Cup qualification in his first season. But you already know all that. Tony Yeboah has always helped me in a much more banal way, yet itโs something for which Iโm eternally grateful.
Tony Yeboah is the king of small talk.
When, inevitably, someone at the pub asks who the most famous living person is โ is it the Pope? The Dalai Lama? Messi? Ronaldo? โ I am forced to say that, in my experience as a Leeds fan, the most famous living human being is Anthony Yeboah.
Because it doesnโt seem to matter how much the person you are struggling to talk to knows about football, they have almost always heard of Tony Yeboah. They have seen, at an absolute minimum, two of his goals. And as soon as you say youโre a Leeds fan, Yeboahโs box has been opened. And no matter how stilted the conversation was before, now it is flowing.
There is a unique look that appears in peopleโs eyes when they talk about Yeboah. Often when people remember something from the past which they loved โ a TV show or a childhood toy โ there is a wistfulness in their expression. I loved, yes, but I lost. With Yeboah there is none of that. Perhaps it is that Yeboah โ particularly as remembered through his most famous goals โ was such an instinctive, dynamic player. When people remember him, they remember him without baggage, because he played like he had none.
Iโve seen that look appear on faces in cramped hostel dorms while trying to negotiate the initial awkwardness of the fact we will all now be sharing our most intimate moments with eleven complete strangers. Iโve seen it appear while leaning on the end of the bar at a birthday party, on the fringes of the conversation, chatting with a friendโs friendโs boyfriend. Iโve seen it when hopelessly lost, alone in the countryside, trying to convince a stranger that no, Iโm not trying to rob them and yes, I do just need that phone charger for five minutes. Iโve seen it appear while standing on a rural street in Tanzania, and while ordering food in a fish restaurant in Hanoi.
I canโt say for certain why everyone knows and loves Yeboah, although Iโve spent a lot of time thinking about it. Iโm sure heโs a lovely bloke. I think ultimately though it’s probably rooted in the simplicity of those two goals. There is something elemental about twatting a ball as hard as you can and then that ball bouncing off the underside of the crossbar and into the goal that everyone can understand. It quite literally pushes at the very boundaries of what is possible. (Iโm not going to compare it to the moon landings.)
One more lick of paint is a cliche, and an outdated one, but what if a slightly disgruntled shift worker at the factory that produced the goalframe had churned out one with an imperceptibly sagging crossbar. All it would take was the lino doing pre-match checks of the goal with half a mind already on the afterparty, and that ball would have bounced out and away. A shot recorded in the stats, but essentially forgotten forever.
That didnโt happen though. And now everyone knows who Tony Yeboah is, and small talk is solved. I was three years old when Tony Yeboah left Leeds, so I never saw him play in the flesh, but he has followed me around for almost all of my thirty years. Of course he achieved much greater things in a phenomenal career, but I will be forever grateful for that. Cheers, Tony. โฌข
This article is free to read from issue five of this season’s The Square Ball magazine, a celebration of thirty years since the arrival of Anthony Yeboah at Elland Road. Get your copy here. TSB+ members can read the magazine for free online here, or download a PDF with extra articles and artwork here.