‘Getting it’ is a strange concept at Leeds United, universally understood but difficult to define. Andy Hughes gets it. Gaetano Berardi gets it. And it’s quickly becoming apparent Tyler Adams gets it, even if he’s still learning what ‘it’ is.

Hughes and Berardi had qualities as footballers that were difficult to quantify. That’s not the case with Adams. Counting how many tackles he has won, interceptions he has made, and metres he has run will paint a picture of a capable defensive midfielder. But as Leeds know all too well this season, numbers don’t tell the whole story.

Instead, if somebody wants to know what Adams is bringing to Leeds United, show them Adams sprinting into Andy Robertson’s face to make sure he didn’t get away with a sly kick at Brenden Aaronson; or show them Adams clattering into a fifty-fifty challenge with Fabinho, refusing to concede an inch no matter how much it was going to hurt; or show them Adams leading the celebrations in front of the away end at full-time, congratulating each of his teammates, ending with a basketball jump at a bewildered Illan Meslier, happy to go along with whatever Tyler was doing. In the black and white context of a result, those moments don’t matter. In the hearts of a supporter, they mean everything. Tyler Adams gets it.

At Anfield, Adams was competing against a Liverpool midfield containing Thiago Alcantara, one of the most aesthetically pleasing footballers on the planet. Raised on tiki taka in Barcelona’s academy, before Pep Guardiola asked Bayern Munich for “Thiago or nothing”, he controls and passes a ball with the tenderness of a painter applying their brush to a canvas. At least until Adams rocks up and kicks over his easel. Thiago has only recorded a lower passing accuracy this season in games against Arsenal and Manchester City, because wherever he looked for a teammate to give the ball to, he only saw Leeds’ number 12.

The speed and persistence with which Adams gravitates around the pitch, pulling him towards the ball, is reminiscent of N’Golo Kante. There are still moments when I wish Adams would turn and pass forward after winning possession, but he’s probably justified in leaving that job to a teammate after working so hard to win the ball back in the first place. Comparing Adams to Kante is too convenient anyway. Can you imagine Kante squaring up to Robertson? Kante is too nice, which can be disarming in its own way. Adams has no interest in calming things down, sharing a taste for subtly escalating trouble with one of his predecessors in Leeds’ midfield, David Batty. It’s no coincidence that, like Batty, whenever there’s a chance of the two teams kicking off, Adams is on the scene just in case.

Walking down the tunnel after victory at Anfield, Adams coined a phrase that should be translated into Latin and printed in a script on every away shirt Leeds release in the future. “Three points — let’s get the fuck out of here.” Getting out of Anfield meant he could get back to Leeds, a sentiment Batty would no doubt approve of. There are few greater badges of honour for a Leeds United midfielder, and that’s the ultimate proof Tyler Adams gets it. ⬢