Fear and loathing in North London

On eighty minutes, a fan spontaneously combusted in front of me. Another doused himself with a canister of petrol and waved a match provocatively before he was wrestled to the ground by a posse of frenzied stewards. A female fan offered round a hip flask of Rohypnol. Everyone had their own solution. Any excuse to sidestep another mad Tottenham finale.

The late substitution of Mousa Dembele was met with dumbfoundment and derision by those around me as Spurs clung on to a slim 1-0 advantage over a desperate Swansea. Andre Villas-Boas’ negative substitutions in winning positions have been a contributing factor to the glut of late goals conceded in recent months and the removal of our midfield talisman only increased the likelihood of a late Swansea equaliser. We had been here before.

A sporting encounter peppered with easy-on-the-eye passing swiftly degenerated. The fear of what might happen overshadowed events on the pitch. The sound of jangling nerves was audible in the stands. Swansea, who failed to register a shot on target, found encouragement and fed on the prevailing air of uncertainty.

Suddenly, all hell broke loose. Hugo Lloris raced out to punch away a late Swansea punt and poleaxed Michu with the follow through. Referee Mike Dean played advantage and Spurs broke away seeking a second, game-killing goal on the counter only for impressive sub Andros Townsend to be foiled by Swans’ keeper Gerhard Tremmel.

The away side furiously objected to Townsend playing to the whistle and, as tempers flared, a tracksuited Jake Livermore sprang from the bench like a geezer at a bus stop to defend his friend and teammate (receiving a booking for his troubles). When the whistle blew, a stopwatch-defying eight minutes into injury time, fans punched the air and greeted the clean sheet like a minor miracle.

Late tensions aside, there was much to be admired in the home display. Spurs pressed Swansea relentlessly all over the pitch and, but for the profligacy of the off-key Jermain Defoe, might have sealed the points earlier and saved the home support from their injury time travails.

William Gallas was an old rock in defence while Kyle Naughton showed pleasing assurance at left-back and made a terrific, chance denying interception in the second half. The criminally underrated Aaron Lennon fizzed around the field like a runaway Christmas toy and the late introduction of Townsend offered Spurs another jet-heeled outlet in the absence of healing superstar Gareth Bale.

Jan Vertonghen’s lightning reactions from Kyle Walker’s free-kick delivered the crucial goal but fellow Belgian Dembele was, again, the star turn and driving force between defence and attack. Rarely has a £15 million fee appeared such a bargain. Spurs have yet to lose while the Belgian has been on the field of play, ever more reason to keep him on it.

Jan Vertonghen's hair

Jan Vertonghen is an absolute beast of a player. Drop him blindfolded in a Siberian forest and he would probably report for training on Tuesday wearing a tiger-skin, shrugging off a mild case of the blisters.

Wrestling a feral tiger protecting its territory, Jan’s salon perfect hair would undoubtedly remain flawless and unruffled. I dare any Spurs fan to recreate the Belgian’s rock-like side-parting with a small rake and two tubs of Studio Line’s Indestructible hair glue. It’s virtually impossible to emulate and god knows I’ve put in the mirror hours.

The transformation of Vertonghen from overworked centre-half to buccaneering left-back proved a pivotal moment as Spurs overcame a sticky first half against a lively QPR to flip a 0-1 deficit into a welcome first home win of the season.

Andre Villas-Boas’ bold but ultimately misguided decision to start Gareth Bale, Tottenham’s most feared and effective attacking player, at left back spectacularly backfired. In the first half, Spurs looked impotent with Bale in a retreated position and the Welshman laboured with the additional defensive responsibility. Meanwhile, fellow speed merchant Aaron Lennon was bogged down with extra defensive coverage and QPR effectively swamped the midfield with Sandro uncharacteristically careless in possession.

Spurs should have been trailing by at least two goals headed into the break but for Brad Friedel’s ageless limbs and West London profligacy. At half-time, the now customary boos rang out, but despite the pointless protests a listless display had been relatively unpunished and I felt optimistic that Spurs could turn the tables with minor tactical tinkering.

And so it came to pass. AVB switched Vertonghen to left back, sacrificing the ineffectual Gylfi Sigurdsson to bring in Stephen Caulker at centre-half and unleash Welsh wonder Bale where he could finally damage the opposition. Clint Dempsey moved to a more advanced role and began to cause QPR problems with his intelligent forward play. Suddenly, a sluggish Spurs were reborn.

Overdue karma (see the previous blog) gifted the home side an own goal equaliser before a surging Vertonghen run from defence released Bale whose rasping shot cannoned off the bar and dropped to a gleeful jermain Defoe who buried the rebound. And in that moment boo-ers and supporters were, again, united as one.

Spurs dictated the majority of the second half, but QPR always remained dangerous on the counter and had a wonderful opportunity to equalise in the 72nd minute when the ball fell kindly for the effervescent Junior Hoilett only for Vertonghen to slide in heroically with a perfect, goal-saving tackle.

Three points secured and not a hair out of place. Spurs bounce to eighth, one point behind 'title contenders' Arsenal, and AVB’s job is safe for another week at least.

Vertonghen talks move at Rik Waller speed

Spurs’ transfer dealings move like Rik Waller tiptoeing through a vat of treacle. The chances of you receiving a text from a fellow Tottenham fan yammering, ‘You won’t believe who we’ve signed!’ are negligible. You’ve known for weeks like an expectant mother eating pickled eggs and fearing the worst.

The pattern is achingly familiar. After a longwinded courting via the media, Spurs mount a ‘derisory’ bid (£3-£5 million below market value). This is balanced by an ‘outrageous’ demand by the selling club (£3-£5million above market value). Followed by an encouraging quote/tweet by the player (“Tottenham are a great club/my preferred choice/I love that High Road bagel shop”) countered by a regurgitated quote from 2011 stating that, “Thomas Vermaelen told me about Arsenal’s potential for greatness over moules and frites.”

This all-too-regular transfer impasse is hardly aided by the machinations of our beloved Chairman. Rumour has it that Daniel Levy once strolled into the Edmonton Poundland with 81p and walked out with a jumbo bag of Tangfastics. He’s immovable around the negotiating table. Like a skinflint at Christmas, he does not give. Okay, I’ll stop the analogies. Our Danny’s a bugger to deal with.

As a selling club, this business model works and pays handsomely. Manchester United paid £30.75 million for North Circular window-wiper Dimitar Berbatov and dished out £18.6 million for the tidy but unspectacular Michael Carrick. Neither of those purchases have set Manchester alight. Wilson Palacios hobbles like the lame dad from Frasier, yet somehow Levy prised £6 million plus from the pot-makers in Stoke. Wilson now warms their treatment table and bench on alternate weekends.

Add to the mix that Luka Modric was retained last summer after unrelenting speculation and an extremely odd media campaign in that already most curious of oracles The Daily Mail. The rebuffing of Chelsea’s dirty money was arguably the defining moment in Levy’s Chairmanship.

But purchases are a different matter altogether. The bids are either unfashionably late (50 minutes before the transfer window closes) or wildly optimistic (an alleged, barely believable £38.5 million plus offer for Sergio Aguero in the January 2011 window). After the unsavoury end to the last season, Spurs fans both measured and unrealistic are desperate for a boost or a reason to dream again. The highly-rated Jan Vertonghen’s apparent desire to join a club still stinging from a luckless season sans the tonic of Champions League football is an opportunity to make an early statement.

The last three seasons have cemented Tottenham as a contender. There is a Rizla paper’s difference between Spurs, Arsenal and Chelsea in the league table. We’re no longer Fancy Dan lightweights or mugs any more. Of course, there have been valid disappointments in the last two campaigns and the club should have finished higher in the 2011/12 Premier League table, but the days of pinning your hopes on a mazy Stephane Dalmat run or Jose Dominguez nutmeg are over.

Spurs fans don’t need to dream, we can believe. But Daniel Levy has to share our vision. And the Tangfastics.