"We all hate Leeds, we all hate Leeds" (or their new badge, at least)

"We all hate Leeds" though, apparently, not as much as they hate themselves.

The fallout from the release of the new Leeds United club crest has been severe. Was it mined from Shutterstock? Why was it launched so badly? Was there really fan engagement? Was it crowdsourced? Does it look better with Barry Chuckle’s head on it?

It's hard to love, and in part this is because it doesn’t work as a brand logo.

It doesn't work as logo because it fails to fulfil the purpose of a logo. It is a drawing of a thing, not an interpretation of an idea. It can never be iconic because, by definition, it’s not an icon.

The Leeds Salute is a brand asset. But when the players thump the badge when (or rather if) they score, it has no meaning if they are thumping a picture of them thumping.

When I was seven, I had a Leeds United metal badge. I don’t know how it got into the house. But I loved it – not because I supported Leeds, but because of that classic logo. I pondered it (seriously, I did), and it pleased me. Over time I made out a rectangular panel football; a Yorkshire rose; and last of all, that it was an L and a U – a modern world interpretation of other typographic badges I adored in my Panini annual – Rangers, Dundee – yet a visual companion those awesome modern logos – Forest’s, Wolves’, and Wednesday’s.

It spoke in volumes about the club and its aspirations, and forty years on, it is still referred to as the classic Leeds logo.

I cannot believe that the club looked into themselves – speaking with almost as many people as fill the East Stand – and could only find this pale imitation MLS version of themselves, when so much – like the old Lowfields pens the East Stand sits on – was hidden beneath.

For a club looking represent itself into the next hundred years, perhaps a little reflection on the past hundred would be worthwhile – they might find that they had their answer all along.