The Lustdoctor has accepted a bid from TheFightingCock.co.uk to join its team of feisty and uncompromising wildfowl. The fee is believed to be in the region of ‘half a can of Tyskie’. An initial bid of ‘a crate of Fosters’ was flatly rejected. In a separate deal, Jonathan Obika has joined the Lustdoctor until the end of the season and is currently dusting my blinds.
In future, you can capture my leftfield Spurs musings on The Fighting Cock website. Keen followers of this blog may have noticed an absence of er, actual blogs in recent weeks. Rest assured, the mad Spurs love still remains and breathes fire in my soul. Yet a combination of business, personal and travel commitments – with a dash of baby mama drama – have meant that regular post-match blogs are now virtually impossible in the short-term.
This blog has always intended to be a witty and hopeful antidote to the stale and guileless negativity that seems to accompany every Spurs performance on social media and beyond. Even with an injured ravaged, striker-free squad, we follow a team that should pump our fast-beating hearts with lilywhite pride and provide a genuine sense of hope for the future. Keep the faith.
Less regular insights will now continue elsewhere, but with no less passion and commitment. I hope you’ll follow me there. Like the streetwise bear in that old Hofmeister advert. I will be wearing a silky bomber jacket of similar quality.
Showing posts with label Spurs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spurs. Show all posts
Monday, April 8, 2013
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Bale steps out of 'the shadow of Walcott'
At approximately 6pm, a small but very fast boy was pronounced missing in Tottenham. Frantic searches at the local Poundland and popular Ozdiller Supermarket proved fruitless. The parents of Theodore James Walcott, who lifted the prestigious Young Sports Personality Award in 2006, expressed their concern as the little lad disappeared under the bright lights of North London after CCTV footage placed him at White Hart Lane stadium at around 4.01pm.
The 'world class striker', who has scored 37 goals in 174 games for the occasionally popular South London club (club motto: bring a bin bag just in case it's a crap result), was an odd absentee as his midfield played out of their skins but succumbed to the guts and fire of an irrepressible Tottenham. At 4.37pm, Gareth Bale was witnessed performing a heart celebration and screaming into a camera, but by this time poor Theo's whereabouts were sadly unknown.
In a mad, crazed, frequently breathless match, Spurs illustrated the new defiance coursing through the club to hold on to a gutsy 2-1 win and triumph in the North (vs Old South) London derby. Tottenham have now lost one game in approaching four months. An insane, barely believable statistic. A quarter of a season remains, but take a time out, sip a satisfactory Kronenbourg and enjoy this sweet moment while you can.
For some inexplicable reason, my dad attended the game clutching a bright red carrier bag which caught the eye of a mob of Spurs fans who reacted angrily, chanting: "Gooner! Gooner! Gooner!" Unperturbed, my 66-year-old father scampered over to the baying crowd and shouted: "I've been supporting this team for 51 f**king years!" Half a second of silence. "Yido! Yido! Yido!" chanted the Spurs fans. It was that kind of day. Humour and good company and, most of all, the result that truly matters.
Granite-like centre backs Michael Dawson and Jan Vertonghen fought like dogs of war and formed a human wall to withstand the inevitable pressure from Arsenal's human centipede who (once again in this fixture) played like it was their cup final. For periods, the away side were quite excellent in possession though (if I may quote my good friend Brendan Rogers) Tottenham 'won' the all-important possession battle 54%-46%. Were I follower of London's third best team, I might wonder where such spirited performances have been in so many other games this season.
Whatever our differences, the red and white nomads are a slick and savvy outfit when the mood takes them and they posed Tottenham significant problems though in the second half Spurs squandered three gilt-edged chances to put a tense game to bed via Bale, Gylfi Sigurdsson and Jermain Defoe. Pure, unadulterated Tottenham football and, er, 'part of the fun'.
For the first 25 minutes, Arsenal unequivocally bossed the midfield areas via the highly-skilled triumvirate of Wilshere, Arteta and Cazorla, frequently threatening without forging clearcut opportunities. The game was played at a skittish, frenetic pace with Spurs on the constant backfoot, Scott Parker and Mousa Dembele were perpetually overwhelmed and speed demons Aaron Lennon and Bale seemingly shackled by the sheer weight of the occasion.
As if by magic, a switch flicked and the jet heels of Lennon kicked into gear and Spurs rose from their dozy slumber to cause the transplanted Woolwich-ites problems at the back. Lennon was suddenly fizzing about like a Barocca tablet that had somehow flipped out of the glass and Tottenham probed for an unlikely opening as Arsenal's backline broke into a bout of inadvertent body-popping.
The breakthrough came with Spurs' first genuine effort on goal. An insightful Sigurdsson pass picked out Welsh wonder Bale, who, er, found the time to step out of Walcott's (cough) shadow, to break the offside trap and calmly stroke past static Pole Szczesny. White Hart Lane went ballistic. The bloke in front of me broke into a strange, almost wookie-like dialect as we thrust our triumphant fists to the sky and then bundled into all-comers.
Within two minutes the bedlam intensified. Parker played a superb and (no insult intended) very un-Parker like pass that dissected a flatfooted Arsenal backline and afforded the rampaging Lennon the time and space to steady himself and roll the ball nonchalantly past the flailing Szczesny. Pure, mind-bending, Aldous Huxley style joy. The doors of Champions League perception flew wide open.
Spurs don't do clean sheets in this fixture and Arsenal inevitably pulled a goal back early in the second half via human statue Mertesacker who glanced home a free-kick off Bale for the Welshman's second own goal of the season. He scores when he wants and when he doesn't, too.
Yet Spurs held firm despite sustained opposition pressure and a number of contentious officiating decisions that caused predictable consternation in the home trenches. But the best teams always find a way to win through adversity and even the most myopic Arsenal fan would have to agree that, after years of mediocrity, Tottenham Hotspur are now one of the top teams.
Just don't Google 'Arsenal human centipede'. It's positively inhuman.
* This week my existential horror novel 'Players' Restaurant' finally hit the streets. It's about a revolutionary dieting craze that promises women astonishing weight loss. In a matter of months, Size 16s become svelte size 6s as the new slimming commodity is deemed more valuable than gold or cocaine. Its formula is a mystery, but after women worldwide gleefully overhaul their wardrobes and play hide and seek behind lampposts…the deadly side effects become apparent. If you enjoy this blog (and want to support a fellow Spurs fan), the book is available here for the Kindle or Kindle apps for iPad, iPhone, PC or Android. Thanks for your support.
The 'world class striker', who has scored 37 goals in 174 games for the occasionally popular South London club (club motto: bring a bin bag just in case it's a crap result), was an odd absentee as his midfield played out of their skins but succumbed to the guts and fire of an irrepressible Tottenham. At 4.37pm, Gareth Bale was witnessed performing a heart celebration and screaming into a camera, but by this time poor Theo's whereabouts were sadly unknown.
In a mad, crazed, frequently breathless match, Spurs illustrated the new defiance coursing through the club to hold on to a gutsy 2-1 win and triumph in the North (vs Old South) London derby. Tottenham have now lost one game in approaching four months. An insane, barely believable statistic. A quarter of a season remains, but take a time out, sip a satisfactory Kronenbourg and enjoy this sweet moment while you can.
For some inexplicable reason, my dad attended the game clutching a bright red carrier bag which caught the eye of a mob of Spurs fans who reacted angrily, chanting: "Gooner! Gooner! Gooner!" Unperturbed, my 66-year-old father scampered over to the baying crowd and shouted: "I've been supporting this team for 51 f**king years!" Half a second of silence. "Yido! Yido! Yido!" chanted the Spurs fans. It was that kind of day. Humour and good company and, most of all, the result that truly matters.
Granite-like centre backs Michael Dawson and Jan Vertonghen fought like dogs of war and formed a human wall to withstand the inevitable pressure from Arsenal's human centipede who (once again in this fixture) played like it was their cup final. For periods, the away side were quite excellent in possession though (if I may quote my good friend Brendan Rogers) Tottenham 'won' the all-important possession battle 54%-46%. Were I follower of London's third best team, I might wonder where such spirited performances have been in so many other games this season.
Whatever our differences, the red and white nomads are a slick and savvy outfit when the mood takes them and they posed Tottenham significant problems though in the second half Spurs squandered three gilt-edged chances to put a tense game to bed via Bale, Gylfi Sigurdsson and Jermain Defoe. Pure, unadulterated Tottenham football and, er, 'part of the fun'.
For the first 25 minutes, Arsenal unequivocally bossed the midfield areas via the highly-skilled triumvirate of Wilshere, Arteta and Cazorla, frequently threatening without forging clearcut opportunities. The game was played at a skittish, frenetic pace with Spurs on the constant backfoot, Scott Parker and Mousa Dembele were perpetually overwhelmed and speed demons Aaron Lennon and Bale seemingly shackled by the sheer weight of the occasion.
As if by magic, a switch flicked and the jet heels of Lennon kicked into gear and Spurs rose from their dozy slumber to cause the transplanted Woolwich-ites problems at the back. Lennon was suddenly fizzing about like a Barocca tablet that had somehow flipped out of the glass and Tottenham probed for an unlikely opening as Arsenal's backline broke into a bout of inadvertent body-popping.
The breakthrough came with Spurs' first genuine effort on goal. An insightful Sigurdsson pass picked out Welsh wonder Bale, who, er, found the time to step out of Walcott's (cough) shadow, to break the offside trap and calmly stroke past static Pole Szczesny. White Hart Lane went ballistic. The bloke in front of me broke into a strange, almost wookie-like dialect as we thrust our triumphant fists to the sky and then bundled into all-comers.
Within two minutes the bedlam intensified. Parker played a superb and (no insult intended) very un-Parker like pass that dissected a flatfooted Arsenal backline and afforded the rampaging Lennon the time and space to steady himself and roll the ball nonchalantly past the flailing Szczesny. Pure, mind-bending, Aldous Huxley style joy. The doors of Champions League perception flew wide open.
Spurs don't do clean sheets in this fixture and Arsenal inevitably pulled a goal back early in the second half via human statue Mertesacker who glanced home a free-kick off Bale for the Welshman's second own goal of the season. He scores when he wants and when he doesn't, too.
Yet Spurs held firm despite sustained opposition pressure and a number of contentious officiating decisions that caused predictable consternation in the home trenches. But the best teams always find a way to win through adversity and even the most myopic Arsenal fan would have to agree that, after years of mediocrity, Tottenham Hotspur are now one of the top teams.
Just don't Google 'Arsenal human centipede'. It's positively inhuman.
* This week my existential horror novel 'Players' Restaurant' finally hit the streets. It's about a revolutionary dieting craze that promises women astonishing weight loss. In a matter of months, Size 16s become svelte size 6s as the new slimming commodity is deemed more valuable than gold or cocaine. Its formula is a mystery, but after women worldwide gleefully overhaul their wardrobes and play hide and seek behind lampposts…the deadly side effects become apparent. If you enjoy this blog (and want to support a fellow Spurs fan), the book is available here for the Kindle or Kindle apps for iPad, iPhone, PC or Android. Thanks for your support.
Monday, February 25, 2013
The brilliance of Bale vs the betrayal of Moore
More Gareth Bale brilliance elevated Spurs above a spirited West Ham stoked by the memories of the legendary Bobby Moore. The Hammers may have lost their ‘cup final’, but I understand premium horsemeat lasagne was available at David Gold’s post-match banquet. The meat passes better than Guy Demel.
To quote a twisting Peter Griffin, ‘third is the word’. Tottenham battled back from a 1-2 deficit to nudge ahead of Chelsea and maintain a four point gap over Arsenal before Sunday’s crunch north London derby. Inevitably, our old friend Howard Webb played his part in the drama, but an elite side usually finds a way to negotiate adversity rather than reach for excuses. Silently and impressively, Tottenham now resemble a team of that description.
Spurs have negotiated 27 league games without winning a single penalty as our rivals inch towards double spot-kick digits – it took Webb a mere 25 minutes to allow West Ham to surpass our non-existent total. Was it a penalty? I think so. Returning ‘hero’ Scott Parker certainly followed through after winning the ball despite the initial reaction that this was more jiggery-pokery from Yorkshire’s least popular ex-copper. Undoubtedly, the kick would not have been awarded the other way. There were at least two penalties within a second before Gylfi Sigurdsson’s prodded equaliser. Most of us were just grateful that the former Right Said Fred impersonator allowed the goal!
But for the fly-squatter palms of Jussi Jaaskelainen it might have been a baseball score. The oddly under-appreciated Finn was, again, sensational between the sticks involved in repelling 25 shots on the hammered goal. West Ham sweated blood for seventy minutes, but eventually they ran out of fuel like a second hand banger and true (Aston Martin) class told.
Andre Villas-Boas’ selections and substitutions were immaculate. The Portuguese wisely opted for a more physical back four to cope with the wayward arms and papier-mache legs of Andy 'Caravan' Carroll. His removal of the influential Mousa Dembele (who the home side were doing their level best to remove ahead of Sunday’s crunch derby) was a relief, but the introductions of the energetic Sigurdsson and clever prompting of Tom Carroll provided unexpected dividends. Suddenly, Spurs dominated a tiring Clarets midfield who began blowing bubbles from the wrong end.
To his credit, Webb did allow the critical advantage that enabled the felled Bale to right himself before taking Carroll’s neat pass to stroke home the ridiculous last minute winner. The 'spirit of Stalteri' was reborn.
The embrace of Bale and Villas-Boas in the euphoria following the Welshman’s winner illustrated a special relationship not evident with the previous manager. Not long after Harry Redknapp’s ungrateful removal, the world class Welshman signed a new four-year contract and, grinning, remarked upon the new tactics and modus operandi of his replacement. One cannot help but suspect a certain ‘method’ in Daniel Levy’s ‘summer madness’. This is a bold, new Tottenham and, with due gratitude to the past, I’m delighted to witness the revolution.
* Bobby Moore was, for most of us, the greatest footballer ever to pull an England jersey over his head, a true gentleman and credit off the field. The world class, consummate defender almost joined Spurs, Bill Nicholson certainly wanted him, but sadly that move never came to fruition. My admiration for the man is boundless and it is a great source of pride that my dad and dear, departed uncle were present at Wembley to watch Moore, Peters and co lift the World Cup in 1966.
But it is a pride tinged with sadness. So much of the adulation for Moore’s achievements and defensive grace came long after his passing. This is modern football where a misty-eye, black armband and minute’s applause apparently erase the sins of the past.
Where was the support from West Ham, and more notably England and the FA, when the legendary Moore was scraping a living doing minor, 'fish and chip’ commentary for Radio Essex?
Bobby died in relative poverty and these after-the-event eulogies and the belated, mind-crunching hypocrisy carry a heavy sting in the tail. Another reason why I am ‘against modern football’.
The likes of Paul Gascoigne and others need this help and appreciation right now. For the love of god, let us learn from the mistakes of the past and not wait for these grand heroes to be buried six feet underground.
** Spurs fan and prolific author Norman Giller has written a timely book on Bobby Moore 'The Master' where all profits go to the most worthy 'Bobby Moore Fund' set up by the great man's widow shortly after his passing. Norman knew Bobby throughout his storied career and the book is a wonderful way to learn more about his mistreatment and pay respect to his legacy of helping to find a cure for cancer.
To quote a twisting Peter Griffin, ‘third is the word’. Tottenham battled back from a 1-2 deficit to nudge ahead of Chelsea and maintain a four point gap over Arsenal before Sunday’s crunch north London derby. Inevitably, our old friend Howard Webb played his part in the drama, but an elite side usually finds a way to negotiate adversity rather than reach for excuses. Silently and impressively, Tottenham now resemble a team of that description.
Spurs have negotiated 27 league games without winning a single penalty as our rivals inch towards double spot-kick digits – it took Webb a mere 25 minutes to allow West Ham to surpass our non-existent total. Was it a penalty? I think so. Returning ‘hero’ Scott Parker certainly followed through after winning the ball despite the initial reaction that this was more jiggery-pokery from Yorkshire’s least popular ex-copper. Undoubtedly, the kick would not have been awarded the other way. There were at least two penalties within a second before Gylfi Sigurdsson’s prodded equaliser. Most of us were just grateful that the former Right Said Fred impersonator allowed the goal!
But for the fly-squatter palms of Jussi Jaaskelainen it might have been a baseball score. The oddly under-appreciated Finn was, again, sensational between the sticks involved in repelling 25 shots on the hammered goal. West Ham sweated blood for seventy minutes, but eventually they ran out of fuel like a second hand banger and true (Aston Martin) class told.
Andre Villas-Boas’ selections and substitutions were immaculate. The Portuguese wisely opted for a more physical back four to cope with the wayward arms and papier-mache legs of Andy 'Caravan' Carroll. His removal of the influential Mousa Dembele (who the home side were doing their level best to remove ahead of Sunday’s crunch derby) was a relief, but the introductions of the energetic Sigurdsson and clever prompting of Tom Carroll provided unexpected dividends. Suddenly, Spurs dominated a tiring Clarets midfield who began blowing bubbles from the wrong end.
To his credit, Webb did allow the critical advantage that enabled the felled Bale to right himself before taking Carroll’s neat pass to stroke home the ridiculous last minute winner. The 'spirit of Stalteri' was reborn.
The embrace of Bale and Villas-Boas in the euphoria following the Welshman’s winner illustrated a special relationship not evident with the previous manager. Not long after Harry Redknapp’s ungrateful removal, the world class Welshman signed a new four-year contract and, grinning, remarked upon the new tactics and modus operandi of his replacement. One cannot help but suspect a certain ‘method’ in Daniel Levy’s ‘summer madness’. This is a bold, new Tottenham and, with due gratitude to the past, I’m delighted to witness the revolution.
* Bobby Moore was, for most of us, the greatest footballer ever to pull an England jersey over his head, a true gentleman and credit off the field. The world class, consummate defender almost joined Spurs, Bill Nicholson certainly wanted him, but sadly that move never came to fruition. My admiration for the man is boundless and it is a great source of pride that my dad and dear, departed uncle were present at Wembley to watch Moore, Peters and co lift the World Cup in 1966.
But it is a pride tinged with sadness. So much of the adulation for Moore’s achievements and defensive grace came long after his passing. This is modern football where a misty-eye, black armband and minute’s applause apparently erase the sins of the past.
Where was the support from West Ham, and more notably England and the FA, when the legendary Moore was scraping a living doing minor, 'fish and chip’ commentary for Radio Essex?
Bobby died in relative poverty and these after-the-event eulogies and the belated, mind-crunching hypocrisy carry a heavy sting in the tail. Another reason why I am ‘against modern football’.
The likes of Paul Gascoigne and others need this help and appreciation right now. For the love of god, let us learn from the mistakes of the past and not wait for these grand heroes to be buried six feet underground.
** Spurs fan and prolific author Norman Giller has written a timely book on Bobby Moore 'The Master' where all profits go to the most worthy 'Bobby Moore Fund' set up by the great man's widow shortly after his passing. Norman knew Bobby throughout his storied career and the book is a wonderful way to learn more about his mistreatment and pay respect to his legacy of helping to find a cure for cancer.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Bollocks, we’re out….aagh, Dembele! See you in Amsterdam!
For Spurs, the end of one European dream could mean the beginning of another. It’s a perverse fact that elimination from the Europa League presents our club with a ‘clear run’ at third/fourth place and that ‘valuable’ Champions League spot without the ‘distraction’ of the cups. Wait a beeping minute…Dembele bloody scored! Tottenham are headed to Amsterdam, baby!
Mousa Dembele’s brilliant and timely intervention gave Tottenham a merited pass into the last 16 against an uber-defensive Lyon side intent on stealing a win via a set-piece and a prolonged, rearguard action. ‘Throw your fromage in the air, throw it up like you just don’t care. And if you knocked out an ex-Gooner’s team, I wanna hear you scream. Oh yeah! Oh yeah!’
It was perhaps a bullet dodged for Andre Villas-Boas. The Portuguese has overachieved in his first league season as Spurs boss, and disproved the doubting media vultures, but his cup selections have often been as ill-judged as Nicky Minaj’s. FA Cup and League Cup progression were needlessly discarded with ill-conceived line-ups against Norwich and Leeds, and for old school fans this still rankles. Spurs are a cup team after all.
The omission of the returning Hugo Lloris set the early alarm bells ringing and deprived the former Lyon star a true hero’s welcome as well as robbing Spurs of that cat-like presence in the box. Tottenham also missed Michael Dawson’s lion-like roar at the back.
The sight of Brad Friedel rooted to his line for the Lyon opener was grimly predictable. He is the Pete Doherty of goalkeepers. The American is an excellent back-up between the sticks and admirable pro, though this felt like the wrong call if Spurs are in the competition to win it. But the AVB gamble was ultimately unpunished and Friedel’s double-fisted response to the Lyon fans at the final whistle clearly felt like a vindication, given his two alert stops in the second half.
For the most part, an unexceptional but highly-organised Lyon sat back and looked to capitalise on set-pieces. Some of the early foul awards from the German referee were generous at best including the swan dive of the paper-ankled Lisandro Lopez that led to Lyon’s opener. As soon as the home side had their noses in front, they defended en masse and started to resemble a French version of Stoke City. The presence of Lyon striker Gomis, a Kenwyne Jones lookalike, did little to disprove the comparison.
The sight of Lyon players biting the turf was commonplace. Kyle Walker brushed Umtiti’s arm and the full-back collapsed like a malnourished Gillian McKeith. Walker was yellow carded for the challenge which would constitute mild foreplay in most bedrooms across Britain. But Spurs were too often toothless and bereft of creativity in the final third. A speculative Lewis Holtby shot that hit the post was a rare, incisive moment in the opening half. Lyon were exceptionally well-drilled. If only the French had shown such resistance between 1939-45. It would have saved a lot of trouble.
A sumptuous, swinging centre from Emmanuel Adebayor presented Gareth Bale with an excellent second half opportunity but he drilled agonisingly wide. As circumstances dictated, Spurs committed greater numbers forward and pushed gamely for the equaliser. A Bale free-kick was parried and the bar was clipped as Tottenham methodically cranked up the pressure. A Lyon tumble in the box after a Friedel miscalculation and recovery was thankfully waved away by the referee. In the absence of an extra striker, Dempsey and Sigurdsson were cast into the fray, but failed to conjure an opening and the Euro-prayer beads were out.
Suddenly, the exit door loomed for Spurs. But then out of nowhere Belgian wonder Dembele cut in from distance and powered a dramatic last minute equaliser (and winner on aggregate). Bollocks, the added fixture congestion means Tottenham are now destined for fifth.
Or maybe our co-efficient in next year’s Champions League has been significantly improved :). Both adventures continue.
Mousa Dembele’s brilliant and timely intervention gave Tottenham a merited pass into the last 16 against an uber-defensive Lyon side intent on stealing a win via a set-piece and a prolonged, rearguard action. ‘Throw your fromage in the air, throw it up like you just don’t care. And if you knocked out an ex-Gooner’s team, I wanna hear you scream. Oh yeah! Oh yeah!’
It was perhaps a bullet dodged for Andre Villas-Boas. The Portuguese has overachieved in his first league season as Spurs boss, and disproved the doubting media vultures, but his cup selections have often been as ill-judged as Nicky Minaj’s. FA Cup and League Cup progression were needlessly discarded with ill-conceived line-ups against Norwich and Leeds, and for old school fans this still rankles. Spurs are a cup team after all.
The omission of the returning Hugo Lloris set the early alarm bells ringing and deprived the former Lyon star a true hero’s welcome as well as robbing Spurs of that cat-like presence in the box. Tottenham also missed Michael Dawson’s lion-like roar at the back.
The sight of Brad Friedel rooted to his line for the Lyon opener was grimly predictable. He is the Pete Doherty of goalkeepers. The American is an excellent back-up between the sticks and admirable pro, though this felt like the wrong call if Spurs are in the competition to win it. But the AVB gamble was ultimately unpunished and Friedel’s double-fisted response to the Lyon fans at the final whistle clearly felt like a vindication, given his two alert stops in the second half.
For the most part, an unexceptional but highly-organised Lyon sat back and looked to capitalise on set-pieces. Some of the early foul awards from the German referee were generous at best including the swan dive of the paper-ankled Lisandro Lopez that led to Lyon’s opener. As soon as the home side had their noses in front, they defended en masse and started to resemble a French version of Stoke City. The presence of Lyon striker Gomis, a Kenwyne Jones lookalike, did little to disprove the comparison.
The sight of Lyon players biting the turf was commonplace. Kyle Walker brushed Umtiti’s arm and the full-back collapsed like a malnourished Gillian McKeith. Walker was yellow carded for the challenge which would constitute mild foreplay in most bedrooms across Britain. But Spurs were too often toothless and bereft of creativity in the final third. A speculative Lewis Holtby shot that hit the post was a rare, incisive moment in the opening half. Lyon were exceptionally well-drilled. If only the French had shown such resistance between 1939-45. It would have saved a lot of trouble.
A sumptuous, swinging centre from Emmanuel Adebayor presented Gareth Bale with an excellent second half opportunity but he drilled agonisingly wide. As circumstances dictated, Spurs committed greater numbers forward and pushed gamely for the equaliser. A Bale free-kick was parried and the bar was clipped as Tottenham methodically cranked up the pressure. A Lyon tumble in the box after a Friedel miscalculation and recovery was thankfully waved away by the referee. In the absence of an extra striker, Dempsey and Sigurdsson were cast into the fray, but failed to conjure an opening and the Euro-prayer beads were out.
Suddenly, the exit door loomed for Spurs. But then out of nowhere Belgian wonder Dembele cut in from distance and powered a dramatic last minute equaliser (and winner on aggregate). Bollocks, the added fixture congestion means Tottenham are now destined for fifth.
Or maybe our co-efficient in next year’s Champions League has been significantly improved :). Both adventures continue.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Bale my Valentine
Sod a fistful of droopy roses and a half-eaten box of Milk Tray, the real romance was at White Hart Lane. Gareth Frank Bale was, again, the focus of a shower of manly lovehearts.
Two exocet free-kicks in first and second half stoppage time brought rare and delightful light to a mostly scrappy encounter. The Europa League dream continues for another week at least.
The decision to rest ‘sweeper keeper’ Hugo Lloris against his old club was predictable, but as disappointing for fans as for the ex-Lyon player. Goalkeeper is the one position where a rest is not required, especially given Spurs’ light schedule of two Europa League games in 16 days. It was a needless tinker by Andre Villas-Boas. I hope to see Lloris back on his old stomping ground in the second leg next week. He’ll be needed.
Lyon showed commendable defensive resolve and threatened rather than alarmed Spurs. They were good value for a draw before that man Bale wrote yet more headlines with his third free-kick goal in two games. Previously, every Spurs set-piece goal was synced with Halley’s Comet.
The home side often looked leaden in position as if no-one had told them they weren’t playing on the Sunday. With his wild new hairstyle, Emmanuel Adebayor resembled Chirpy’s crazed Togolese cousin. The unkempt strands of hair frequently found themselves in an offside position, but they did provide a much needed focal point for Spurs’ rare forays into the final third.
Early on, Lennon and Walker dovetailed efficiently and one surging Walker run and slotted pass picked out Bale perfectly with the net gaping like a Z-List Towie celebrity. Somehow he contrived to miss – clearly it was too close for a Gareth Bale goal.
The ball rarely left a packed midfield, but then as the first half drew to a close the Welsh maestro stroked in a precocious 36-yard free-kick to take the edge off Spurs nerves.
In the second half, Lyon responded well with a fierce Umtitti strike that left Brad Friedel looking more flatfooted than usual. Those unfortunate enough not to be at the game and with a faulty mute button were subjected to the inane ramblings of Clive Tyldesley and fake Irishman Andy Townsend. Tyldersley, who treats a Manchester United defeat like the passing of a terminally ill child, was hysterical on the Lyon equaliser.
Spurs looked off the pace and found it difficult to forge clearcut chances though veteran Friedel made a sharp save on the rare occasion where Lyon found space in the Spurs' rearguard.
Yet just when it seemed the game would peter out into a draw, Bale stepped up to steer another free kick ludicrously past Lyon keeper Vercoutre. He's so overrated.
Two exocet free-kicks in first and second half stoppage time brought rare and delightful light to a mostly scrappy encounter. The Europa League dream continues for another week at least.
The decision to rest ‘sweeper keeper’ Hugo Lloris against his old club was predictable, but as disappointing for fans as for the ex-Lyon player. Goalkeeper is the one position where a rest is not required, especially given Spurs’ light schedule of two Europa League games in 16 days. It was a needless tinker by Andre Villas-Boas. I hope to see Lloris back on his old stomping ground in the second leg next week. He’ll be needed.
Lyon showed commendable defensive resolve and threatened rather than alarmed Spurs. They were good value for a draw before that man Bale wrote yet more headlines with his third free-kick goal in two games. Previously, every Spurs set-piece goal was synced with Halley’s Comet.
The home side often looked leaden in position as if no-one had told them they weren’t playing on the Sunday. With his wild new hairstyle, Emmanuel Adebayor resembled Chirpy’s crazed Togolese cousin. The unkempt strands of hair frequently found themselves in an offside position, but they did provide a much needed focal point for Spurs’ rare forays into the final third.
Early on, Lennon and Walker dovetailed efficiently and one surging Walker run and slotted pass picked out Bale perfectly with the net gaping like a Z-List Towie celebrity. Somehow he contrived to miss – clearly it was too close for a Gareth Bale goal.
The ball rarely left a packed midfield, but then as the first half drew to a close the Welsh maestro stroked in a precocious 36-yard free-kick to take the edge off Spurs nerves.
In the second half, Lyon responded well with a fierce Umtitti strike that left Brad Friedel looking more flatfooted than usual. Those unfortunate enough not to be at the game and with a faulty mute button were subjected to the inane ramblings of Clive Tyldesley and fake Irishman Andy Townsend. Tyldersley, who treats a Manchester United defeat like the passing of a terminally ill child, was hysterical on the Lyon equaliser.
Spurs looked off the pace and found it difficult to forge clearcut chances though veteran Friedel made a sharp save on the rare occasion where Lyon found space in the Spurs' rearguard.
Yet just when it seemed the game would peter out into a draw, Bale stepped up to steer another free kick ludicrously past Lyon keeper Vercoutre. He's so overrated.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
The understated contribution of Michael Dawson
After his two-goal salvo against Newcastle, Gareth Bale inevitably stole the headlines, but further down the field another hero maintained a silently successful season. Michael Dawson is the antithesis of the modern footballer; you won’t find him stumbling out of a celebrity-endorsed nightspot or mocking opposing supporters, when the opportunity for ludicrous wages presented itself Dawson left his car keys by the door and chose to fight for his place.
The likeable defender’s Spurs career was inexplicably on the rocks in August. Uber-rich QPR had a bid accepted by Daniel Levy (ever the businessman when an over-the-odds offer is received), but unlike many of his peers Dawson turned his back on the money. Professional pride and ambition, and perhaps a love of Spurs, for once trumped the lure of multiple pound signs.
The majority of the Tottenham faithful were delighted by Dawson’s extended stay. There are few defenders better suited to an aerial bombardment against the likes of Stoke or Sunderland and Dawson’s cheerful and ever-gracious demeanour has always endeared him to fans of all ages. He’s also a bloody good defender.
But this season, in the face of intense competition and an initially sceptical new manager, Dawson has risen to the challenge and added new poise to his game. And his persistence has been rewarded. The outcast is now the Spurs captain redux.
In the under-the-radar, three-month run which has seen Tottenham lose only ONE league game (in injury time at Everton), Dawson has been a constant, seizing upon Younes Kaboul’s long-term injury, veteran William Gallas’ nagging fitness concerns and the greenness of emerging hope Steven Caulker. He has been the surprise star of Spurs’ revolving backline.
The stats stack up in Dawson’s favour. Spurs have yet to lose a Premier League game when he has started (7 wins 4 draws) and his record stands at 9-4-1 in the league games where he has featured - with the lone defeat as a sub in the 10-man loss at Arsenal which inexplicably kick-started the lilywhite season. Five goals have been conceded in Dawson’s last eight starts. Who needs a striker?
Dawson’s unheralded contribution illustrates how this over-achieving Spurs team is a sum of its parts. The phenomenal Bale is rightfully receiving plaudits as a world class player, but Aaron Lennon is in the form of his career, Hugo Lloris has been nothing short of cat-like between the sticks and Mousa Dembele has consigned the deft midfield promptings of Luka Modric to memory.
But for fine goalkeeping by Tim Krul and a touch of Bale profligacy, Tottenham’s latest victory would have been far more comfortable. Despite being haemorrhaged of midfielder enforcer Sandro, stalwart Kaboul and depth in the striker department due to Jermain Defoe’s injury and Emmanuel Adebayor’s absenteeism, Spurs have a four point cushion in fourth and are competing against limitless foreign billionaires and teams of more established pedigree.
And at the foundation of this success is the unsung Michael Dawson. The troubles of Loftus Road must seem a world away.
The likeable defender’s Spurs career was inexplicably on the rocks in August. Uber-rich QPR had a bid accepted by Daniel Levy (ever the businessman when an over-the-odds offer is received), but unlike many of his peers Dawson turned his back on the money. Professional pride and ambition, and perhaps a love of Spurs, for once trumped the lure of multiple pound signs.
The majority of the Tottenham faithful were delighted by Dawson’s extended stay. There are few defenders better suited to an aerial bombardment against the likes of Stoke or Sunderland and Dawson’s cheerful and ever-gracious demeanour has always endeared him to fans of all ages. He’s also a bloody good defender.
But this season, in the face of intense competition and an initially sceptical new manager, Dawson has risen to the challenge and added new poise to his game. And his persistence has been rewarded. The outcast is now the Spurs captain redux.
In the under-the-radar, three-month run which has seen Tottenham lose only ONE league game (in injury time at Everton), Dawson has been a constant, seizing upon Younes Kaboul’s long-term injury, veteran William Gallas’ nagging fitness concerns and the greenness of emerging hope Steven Caulker. He has been the surprise star of Spurs’ revolving backline.
The stats stack up in Dawson’s favour. Spurs have yet to lose a Premier League game when he has started (7 wins 4 draws) and his record stands at 9-4-1 in the league games where he has featured - with the lone defeat as a sub in the 10-man loss at Arsenal which inexplicably kick-started the lilywhite season. Five goals have been conceded in Dawson’s last eight starts. Who needs a striker?
Dawson’s unheralded contribution illustrates how this over-achieving Spurs team is a sum of its parts. The phenomenal Bale is rightfully receiving plaudits as a world class player, but Aaron Lennon is in the form of his career, Hugo Lloris has been nothing short of cat-like between the sticks and Mousa Dembele has consigned the deft midfield promptings of Luka Modric to memory.
But for fine goalkeeping by Tim Krul and a touch of Bale profligacy, Tottenham’s latest victory would have been far more comfortable. Despite being haemorrhaged of midfielder enforcer Sandro, stalwart Kaboul and depth in the striker department due to Jermain Defoe’s injury and Emmanuel Adebayor’s absenteeism, Spurs have a four point cushion in fourth and are competing against limitless foreign billionaires and teams of more established pedigree.
And at the foundation of this success is the unsung Michael Dawson. The troubles of Loftus Road must seem a world away.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Je t'aime Burkina Faso, but have Spurs fans been ‘Levyed’?
Je t'aime Burkina Faso. The West African nation’s historic victory over Togo in the African Cup Of Nations meant that AWOL frontman Emmanuel Adebayor will shortly be on a plane home and Spurs finally have a ‘new’ striker at a price Daniel Levy will surely enjoy.
Another Gareth Bale wonderstrike earned a crucial 1-0 win over 10-man West Brom at The Hawthorns yet Jermain Defoe’s injury overshadowed proceedings and left our Champions League chasers without a fit frontman in the matchday squad. The Bale reliant Spurs currently have less strikers than the Kensington Miners Union.
The failure to secure Leandro Damaio (or any competent striker on loan) during the recent transfer window was always likely to bite Spurs in the behind. Tottenham’s ‘partnership’ with Internacional is as meaningful as a relationship on ‘The Jeremy Kyle Show’. If Daniel Levy is unable to broker a deal with an alleged partner club over three transfer windows then perhaps a change of target is advisable. Offering £13 million for Damaio is like offering Scarlett Johansson a date at Chicken Cottage and being shocked at the rejection.
Was this an(other) elaborate smokescreen? The Joao Moutinho deal crumbled on inadequately filed paperwork in the summer and Andre Villas-Boas’ admiration (borderline love) for the Portuguese playmaker is well known. So if everything was agreed in principle several months ago why did August’s ‘done deal’ fail to materialise in the following window? The club is, of course, comfortably in the black in its transfer dealings over the last three windows. Repeat quietly three times, Tottenham Hotspur are owned by an investment company.
Opinions vary, but the conspiracy theorist in me always wonders why these big deals fail to materialise while the exit door remains joyfully open to the detriment of the squad. AVB thankfully blocked Gylfi Sigurdsson’s surprise £10million sale to Reading, but what if those incoming funds had been immediately reinvested in the purchase of Damaio? Tottenham would undoubtedly be in a stronger position - one might think a celebrated deal broker might spot such an opportunity.
I have no problem with Levy opting not to spend frivolous cash, but equally he must be realistic about where Tottenham will finish without reasonable investment. Sixth place is arguably par for our club. We cannot compete with the financial firepower of Manchester City or Chelsea or the sheer size of Manchester United. Arsenal may be weakening but those South London nomads have been rooted in the top four since the 1990s while fallen giants Liverpool do not seem to suffer ENIC’s recent investment allergy, having spent heavily on Daniel Sturridge (a striker – they exist) and the talented but unproven Philippe Coutinho.
For all its attacking qualities, this is not a free-scoring Tottenham team. The fitness of Defoe and motivation of Adebayor will dictate whether Spurs have enough to inch over the Champions League line. The failure to strengthen a weak striking corps is a considerable gamble and one that in the last two January windows has failed to pay off.
There is always a first time.
Another Gareth Bale wonderstrike earned a crucial 1-0 win over 10-man West Brom at The Hawthorns yet Jermain Defoe’s injury overshadowed proceedings and left our Champions League chasers without a fit frontman in the matchday squad. The Bale reliant Spurs currently have less strikers than the Kensington Miners Union.
The failure to secure Leandro Damaio (or any competent striker on loan) during the recent transfer window was always likely to bite Spurs in the behind. Tottenham’s ‘partnership’ with Internacional is as meaningful as a relationship on ‘The Jeremy Kyle Show’. If Daniel Levy is unable to broker a deal with an alleged partner club over three transfer windows then perhaps a change of target is advisable. Offering £13 million for Damaio is like offering Scarlett Johansson a date at Chicken Cottage and being shocked at the rejection.
Was this an(other) elaborate smokescreen? The Joao Moutinho deal crumbled on inadequately filed paperwork in the summer and Andre Villas-Boas’ admiration (borderline love) for the Portuguese playmaker is well known. So if everything was agreed in principle several months ago why did August’s ‘done deal’ fail to materialise in the following window? The club is, of course, comfortably in the black in its transfer dealings over the last three windows. Repeat quietly three times, Tottenham Hotspur are owned by an investment company.
Opinions vary, but the conspiracy theorist in me always wonders why these big deals fail to materialise while the exit door remains joyfully open to the detriment of the squad. AVB thankfully blocked Gylfi Sigurdsson’s surprise £10million sale to Reading, but what if those incoming funds had been immediately reinvested in the purchase of Damaio? Tottenham would undoubtedly be in a stronger position - one might think a celebrated deal broker might spot such an opportunity.
I have no problem with Levy opting not to spend frivolous cash, but equally he must be realistic about where Tottenham will finish without reasonable investment. Sixth place is arguably par for our club. We cannot compete with the financial firepower of Manchester City or Chelsea or the sheer size of Manchester United. Arsenal may be weakening but those South London nomads have been rooted in the top four since the 1990s while fallen giants Liverpool do not seem to suffer ENIC’s recent investment allergy, having spent heavily on Daniel Sturridge (a striker – they exist) and the talented but unproven Philippe Coutinho.
For all its attacking qualities, this is not a free-scoring Tottenham team. The fitness of Defoe and motivation of Adebayor will dictate whether Spurs have enough to inch over the Champions League line. The failure to strengthen a weak striking corps is a considerable gamble and one that in the last two January windows has failed to pay off.
There is always a first time.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Chris Hughton’s clipboard inducted into the Tottenham Hall Of Fame
Daniel Levy has made his most important signing of the January transfer window after purchasing Chris Hughton’s original clipboard for display in the new stadium’s museum (or its adjoining Sainsbury's). The celebrated clipboard will shortly be inducted into the Tottenham Hall Of Fame. “It was involved in more goals than Steffen Freund,” protested a club spokesman.
The deal for this cherished piece of club folklore was struck at half-time as Hughton’s Canaries ran yellow and green rings around a flatfooted Tottenham before a Gareth Bale wonder goal sealed a late, but ultimately welcome point.
“The clipboard is a big part of Tottenham’s talent light history in the Nineties and Noughties when teams like Middlesborough used to knock three past us in 30 minutes and no-one booed at half-time,” continued the club spokesman. “The erudite scribblings on that legendary stationery accessory almost singlehandedly kept the score in single figures.
“When the wild barnet of Gerry Francis grew out of control, Chris used its firm edges to comb that uncontrollable bird’s nest into a side parting. It was also present when Chris accompanied David Pleat on one of his regular shopping trips for Farah trousers or a touch of polished brass.”
The clipboard, which Levy swapped for Heurelho Gomes’ least favourite child, came with reams of Hughton’s original notes which provide a fascinating insight into Spurs' tactics in the Premier League’s formative years. Observations include:
“Chip the ball onto the crest of Ruel Fox’s head and it rolls into dangerous positions. Do not play to feet.”
“A can of Red Stripe takes the edge of Chris Armstrong’s brownies.”
“Placing a live stoat in Gregorz Rasiak’s shorts may encourage a more mobile performance”
“I wish we’d buy a bloody striker.”
How times change.
The deal for this cherished piece of club folklore was struck at half-time as Hughton’s Canaries ran yellow and green rings around a flatfooted Tottenham before a Gareth Bale wonder goal sealed a late, but ultimately welcome point.
“The clipboard is a big part of Tottenham’s talent light history in the Nineties and Noughties when teams like Middlesborough used to knock three past us in 30 minutes and no-one booed at half-time,” continued the club spokesman. “The erudite scribblings on that legendary stationery accessory almost singlehandedly kept the score in single figures.
“When the wild barnet of Gerry Francis grew out of control, Chris used its firm edges to comb that uncontrollable bird’s nest into a side parting. It was also present when Chris accompanied David Pleat on one of his regular shopping trips for Farah trousers or a touch of polished brass.”
The clipboard, which Levy swapped for Heurelho Gomes’ least favourite child, came with reams of Hughton’s original notes which provide a fascinating insight into Spurs' tactics in the Premier League’s formative years. Observations include:
“Chip the ball onto the crest of Ruel Fox’s head and it rolls into dangerous positions. Do not play to feet.”
“A can of Red Stripe takes the edge of Chris Armstrong’s brownies.”
“Placing a live stoat in Gregorz Rasiak’s shorts may encourage a more mobile performance”
“I wish we’d buy a bloody striker.”
How times change.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Spurs overturn Fergie’s parked bus, a granny hugger rejoices
Sheer air-punching joy! Clint Dempsey scored a last gasp equaliser and I found myself embracing a woman in her seventies. It was my Wayne Rooney moment. We failed to exchange numbers, but the connection was undeniable. Almost a case of ‘Call me, maybe’.
On the pitch, relentless pressure told. Don’t let Alex Ferguson’s post-match hyperbole fool you. Rioja kills brain cells. A draw was the very least Spurs deserved. Tottenham registered 23 shots to United’s paltry six (managing 18 on target) and plugged away with delightful purpose when previous incarnations of our team would have folded.
In the dying embers of the game, I sensed an equaliser yet, with Spurs doggedly pounding on United’s back door, some ‘fans’ chose to leave early. Unless two impatient Victoria’s Secret models were coiled up at home on a waterbed, I fail to see a reason for an early departure. Even in this scenario the models should wait patiently. Sadly, these 'supporters' carelessly threw away an unforgettable moment. This was a notable Tottenham bookmark.
Almost-discarded skipper Michael Dawson was an absolute rock, leading a rookie back four by example, whereas the talismanic Mousa Dembele maintained his unbeaten record on the pitch in Spurs colours and dovetailed efficiently with the tenacious Scott Parker who adeptly filled a giant, Sandro-sized hole. Yet one man deserves a mention above all others. Our miniature speed demon.
Aaron Lennon is undoubtedly Spurs' player of the season so far. He fizzes, he feints, he creates. With the more touted Gareth Bale double and triple-marked by United’s defensively-inclined formation, the pint-sized playmaker was afforded extra time to make a difference and he did with aplomb.
Little surprise that Lennon possessed the calmness to find Dempsey in the injury time snowy maelstrom. When the American stroked home the equaliser, sheer mayhem broke out in the stands. Apparently, I was speaking in tongues. Every late, unmerited Manchester United goal, every fake penalty, every diabolically disallowed Spurs strike or bout of red-faced arm-pointing felt joyously erased by this moment. Carthatic? Just a bit.
Perhaps the greatest compliment was that United failed to take Spurs on and lined up defensively for the first time in living memory at White Hart Lane. Unbelievably, they 'parked the bus'. Their goal stemmed from a Kyle Walker miscalculation and a typically adroit Robin Van Persie header (an especially good day for his wife who knew Rob’s whereabouts between 4pm-6pm), but otherwise they rarely threatened despite Ferguson’s wine-addled ravings to the contrary.
Sadly, the United manager failed to emulate Martin Jol’s post-match graciousness in the Mendes fall-out claiming non-existent United ‘opportunities’ unrecorded on television or by the naked eye of spectators, a penalty for a Rooney topple (ignoring the fact Dempsey was clipped early by Evra in the second half but chose to shoot rather than keel over) and stating that United are the tragic victims of an evil linesman’s mysterious vendetta. It's a real tearjerker.
Oh shush. Four points in two games, you old melon. Can we play you every week?
On the pitch, relentless pressure told. Don’t let Alex Ferguson’s post-match hyperbole fool you. Rioja kills brain cells. A draw was the very least Spurs deserved. Tottenham registered 23 shots to United’s paltry six (managing 18 on target) and plugged away with delightful purpose when previous incarnations of our team would have folded.
In the dying embers of the game, I sensed an equaliser yet, with Spurs doggedly pounding on United’s back door, some ‘fans’ chose to leave early. Unless two impatient Victoria’s Secret models were coiled up at home on a waterbed, I fail to see a reason for an early departure. Even in this scenario the models should wait patiently. Sadly, these 'supporters' carelessly threw away an unforgettable moment. This was a notable Tottenham bookmark.
Almost-discarded skipper Michael Dawson was an absolute rock, leading a rookie back four by example, whereas the talismanic Mousa Dembele maintained his unbeaten record on the pitch in Spurs colours and dovetailed efficiently with the tenacious Scott Parker who adeptly filled a giant, Sandro-sized hole. Yet one man deserves a mention above all others. Our miniature speed demon.
Aaron Lennon is undoubtedly Spurs' player of the season so far. He fizzes, he feints, he creates. With the more touted Gareth Bale double and triple-marked by United’s defensively-inclined formation, the pint-sized playmaker was afforded extra time to make a difference and he did with aplomb.
Little surprise that Lennon possessed the calmness to find Dempsey in the injury time snowy maelstrom. When the American stroked home the equaliser, sheer mayhem broke out in the stands. Apparently, I was speaking in tongues. Every late, unmerited Manchester United goal, every fake penalty, every diabolically disallowed Spurs strike or bout of red-faced arm-pointing felt joyously erased by this moment. Carthatic? Just a bit.
Perhaps the greatest compliment was that United failed to take Spurs on and lined up defensively for the first time in living memory at White Hart Lane. Unbelievably, they 'parked the bus'. Their goal stemmed from a Kyle Walker miscalculation and a typically adroit Robin Van Persie header (an especially good day for his wife who knew Rob’s whereabouts between 4pm-6pm), but otherwise they rarely threatened despite Ferguson’s wine-addled ravings to the contrary.
Sadly, the United manager failed to emulate Martin Jol’s post-match graciousness in the Mendes fall-out claiming non-existent United ‘opportunities’ unrecorded on television or by the naked eye of spectators, a penalty for a Rooney topple (ignoring the fact Dempsey was clipped early by Evra in the second half but chose to shoot rather than keel over) and stating that United are the tragic victims of an evil linesman’s mysterious vendetta. It's a real tearjerker.
Oh shush. Four points in two games, you old melon. Can we play you every week?
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Adebayor hits a barn door
Barn doors everywhere have breathed a sigh of relief when Emmanuel Adebayor has taken the field this season. A mixture of injury, fitness problems, poor finishing and worse luck have transformed last season’s top scorer into this campaign’s misfiring bit part player.
His farcical, crossbar hitting miss from a yard out at Sunderland was compounded by several other sub-par efforts that, in his sharper 2011/12 form, would have nestled seamlessly in the back of the net. If ever a player needed a goal to bolster his flagging confidence it was Adebayor and, against an improving Reading side, the Togo striker delivered with a hanging header that evoked memories of Les Ferdinand in his pomp. “It was important for him to score today,” said Andre Villas-Boas afterwards with classic understatement.
But, while his goal return has been minimal, never underestimate Adebayor’s all-round contribution and the testing time his movement, physicality and rubber-legged skills give opposing defenders. His presence adds a natural balance to the team and invites others into play. He also one of just two strikers on Spurs’ books and one hopes that Adebayor will decide not to play in the African Cup of Nations, otherwise Louis Saha might be getting that call again.
For the second match in succession, Spurs triumphed after falling behind to clinch a staggering seventh victory in nine league games. Michael Dawson’s deft header cancelled out Pavel Pogrebnyak’s surprise early strike before Adebayor’s overdue goal nudged the home side ahead. Clint Dempsey’s looping, deflected strike sealed the points shortly after Reading had enjoyed their most promising spell of the game and tested Spurs fans’ ever-fragile nerves. A whopping thirty Tottenham shots at goal (twenty on target) indicate that this victory was more than merited.
Since Villas-Boas switched to a 4-4-2 formation against Swansea and accommodated two strikers, Spurs have looked more fluid. It’s the system where Gareth Bale and Aaron Lennon have always flourished and, thanks to the tireless Sandro and forward drive of Dembele, this is Tottenham’s most well-balanced engine room for some years. In Sandro and Lennon, Spurs possess two of the most underrated players in the game and yet their contributions have been long appreciated at White Hart Lane. Sandro has a greater tackle than John Holmes and stamina to match whereas there are few more exhilarating sights than watching the whippet-like Lennon run at pace at defenders. Aaron is currently in the form of his life.
Like a pacifist gunslinger, Spurs don’t do draws. Teams like Everton and Stoke may be harder to beat and show greater defensive resolve, but Tottenham’s ‘win or lose' mentality is more rewarding on the eye and in the points column.
So a new year has dawned and Spurs have kicked off 2013, as they ended 2012, with another win. Emmanuel Adebayor is also back in the goals and smiling broadly again. Barn doors beware.
*** There will be no post-Coventry City blog as I will be at Camp Nou next weekend to watch Barcelona and Espanyol lock horns in the Catalan derby. Normal service will be resumed after the QPR game.
His farcical, crossbar hitting miss from a yard out at Sunderland was compounded by several other sub-par efforts that, in his sharper 2011/12 form, would have nestled seamlessly in the back of the net. If ever a player needed a goal to bolster his flagging confidence it was Adebayor and, against an improving Reading side, the Togo striker delivered with a hanging header that evoked memories of Les Ferdinand in his pomp. “It was important for him to score today,” said Andre Villas-Boas afterwards with classic understatement.
But, while his goal return has been minimal, never underestimate Adebayor’s all-round contribution and the testing time his movement, physicality and rubber-legged skills give opposing defenders. His presence adds a natural balance to the team and invites others into play. He also one of just two strikers on Spurs’ books and one hopes that Adebayor will decide not to play in the African Cup of Nations, otherwise Louis Saha might be getting that call again.
For the second match in succession, Spurs triumphed after falling behind to clinch a staggering seventh victory in nine league games. Michael Dawson’s deft header cancelled out Pavel Pogrebnyak’s surprise early strike before Adebayor’s overdue goal nudged the home side ahead. Clint Dempsey’s looping, deflected strike sealed the points shortly after Reading had enjoyed their most promising spell of the game and tested Spurs fans’ ever-fragile nerves. A whopping thirty Tottenham shots at goal (twenty on target) indicate that this victory was more than merited.
Since Villas-Boas switched to a 4-4-2 formation against Swansea and accommodated two strikers, Spurs have looked more fluid. It’s the system where Gareth Bale and Aaron Lennon have always flourished and, thanks to the tireless Sandro and forward drive of Dembele, this is Tottenham’s most well-balanced engine room for some years. In Sandro and Lennon, Spurs possess two of the most underrated players in the game and yet their contributions have been long appreciated at White Hart Lane. Sandro has a greater tackle than John Holmes and stamina to match whereas there are few more exhilarating sights than watching the whippet-like Lennon run at pace at defenders. Aaron is currently in the form of his life.
Like a pacifist gunslinger, Spurs don’t do draws. Teams like Everton and Stoke may be harder to beat and show greater defensive resolve, but Tottenham’s ‘win or lose' mentality is more rewarding on the eye and in the points column.
So a new year has dawned and Spurs have kicked off 2013, as they ended 2012, with another win. Emmanuel Adebayor is also back in the goals and smiling broadly again. Barn doors beware.
*** There will be no post-Coventry City blog as I will be at Camp Nou next weekend to watch Barcelona and Espanyol lock horns in the Catalan derby. Normal service will be resumed after the QPR game.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
‘Exclusive’: Villas-Boas has 133 games to save his job
There was no malice in Sunderland, but more seasonal joy as Spurs overshadowed the home side at the Stadium of Light to secure a second victory in three days. Temporarily, at least, Tottenham sit in third place and it is fair to say that, despite the misgivings of some mischievous individuals in the national media, Andre Villa-Boas has more than three games to save his job. More like 133.
Stalemates at Villa and Sunderland were viewed by some observers as the roots of last season’s ‘failure’ to secure a Champions League spot. Yet within three days, Spurs have emerged triumphant at both grounds as the players begin to flourish following the AVB blueprint. Since that misleading 2-5 reverse at Arsenal, Spurs have won seven and drawn two of ten games in all competitions. This purple patch was sparked by the return of the talismanic Mousa Dembele who has yet to be on the pitch when Spurs have lost a match.
A recent conversation with a Spurs insider made pleasant and encouraging listening. The Portuguese is an extremely popular figure among the squad and his man management and personal skills seem to have been significantly underestimated. He is also gracious in defeat unlike so many of his Premier League counterparts. The likes of Alan Pardew and Brendan Rodgers do themselves few favours with their post-match justifications. Martin O’Neill’s claim that Spurs had not had many chances was stuck in a odd place between delusion and comedy.
But for some alert goalkeeping and the agonising profligacy of Emmanuel Adebayor, in particular, the outcome would have been decided long before a traditionally edgy five minutes of injury time. Michael Dawson had been slow to react when Sunderland capitalised on some slack defending to take the lead through ‘Peter Kay’ but was a key figure as the Spurs’ backline withstood an inevitable bombardment in the closing stages. O’Neill’s decision to withdraw Sebastian Larsson, one of the best deadball takers in the game, was curious but certainly beneficial to the away cause. In goal, the alertness and handling of Hugo Lloris was, again, exemplary. The Frenchman looks every inch a world class goalkeeper.
The machine-like Sandro bossed the midfield areas, allowing speed demons Gareth Bale and Aaron Lennon the freedom to take on the Sunderland rearguard. Lennon has been in sparkling form this season and the record of Spurs never losing a game when he has been on the scoresheet continued. Shortly after half-time, a Carlos Cuellar own goal gave Spurs parity before Lennon delightfully flicked the ball past Kay and Matthew Kilgallon to collect his own pass in the area and coolly shoot Tottenham into a lead they would never relinquish.
Martin Atkinson, who clearly shares an optician with O’Neill, once more found his eyesight under scrutiny. The referee who infamously awarded Chelsea an FA Cup semi-final goal despite the ball not crossing the line became the latest official to book Bale for diving. Instinct and replays suggested that the Welshman had been impeded. The decision was quite ironic given Jermain Defoe’s unconvincing ‘stumble’ in the first half and Stephane Sessegnon spending much of the game lying on the deck with a mouthful of grass. Spurs have yet to ‘earn’ a penalty in the 2012/13 Premier League campaign in stark contrast to rivals Manchester City, Manchester United, Chelsea and Arsenal who have received more than one gift this season. We’d probably miss it anyway. But under AVB Spurs have ended 2012 firing on all cylinders.
*** A happy and healthy New Year to all readers of this blog. May your hopes and dreams be realised in 2013. We may share one or two of them ;).
Stalemates at Villa and Sunderland were viewed by some observers as the roots of last season’s ‘failure’ to secure a Champions League spot. Yet within three days, Spurs have emerged triumphant at both grounds as the players begin to flourish following the AVB blueprint. Since that misleading 2-5 reverse at Arsenal, Spurs have won seven and drawn two of ten games in all competitions. This purple patch was sparked by the return of the talismanic Mousa Dembele who has yet to be on the pitch when Spurs have lost a match.
A recent conversation with a Spurs insider made pleasant and encouraging listening. The Portuguese is an extremely popular figure among the squad and his man management and personal skills seem to have been significantly underestimated. He is also gracious in defeat unlike so many of his Premier League counterparts. The likes of Alan Pardew and Brendan Rodgers do themselves few favours with their post-match justifications. Martin O’Neill’s claim that Spurs had not had many chances was stuck in a odd place between delusion and comedy.
But for some alert goalkeeping and the agonising profligacy of Emmanuel Adebayor, in particular, the outcome would have been decided long before a traditionally edgy five minutes of injury time. Michael Dawson had been slow to react when Sunderland capitalised on some slack defending to take the lead through ‘Peter Kay’ but was a key figure as the Spurs’ backline withstood an inevitable bombardment in the closing stages. O’Neill’s decision to withdraw Sebastian Larsson, one of the best deadball takers in the game, was curious but certainly beneficial to the away cause. In goal, the alertness and handling of Hugo Lloris was, again, exemplary. The Frenchman looks every inch a world class goalkeeper.
The machine-like Sandro bossed the midfield areas, allowing speed demons Gareth Bale and Aaron Lennon the freedom to take on the Sunderland rearguard. Lennon has been in sparkling form this season and the record of Spurs never losing a game when he has been on the scoresheet continued. Shortly after half-time, a Carlos Cuellar own goal gave Spurs parity before Lennon delightfully flicked the ball past Kay and Matthew Kilgallon to collect his own pass in the area and coolly shoot Tottenham into a lead they would never relinquish.
Martin Atkinson, who clearly shares an optician with O’Neill, once more found his eyesight under scrutiny. The referee who infamously awarded Chelsea an FA Cup semi-final goal despite the ball not crossing the line became the latest official to book Bale for diving. Instinct and replays suggested that the Welshman had been impeded. The decision was quite ironic given Jermain Defoe’s unconvincing ‘stumble’ in the first half and Stephane Sessegnon spending much of the game lying on the deck with a mouthful of grass. Spurs have yet to ‘earn’ a penalty in the 2012/13 Premier League campaign in stark contrast to rivals Manchester City, Manchester United, Chelsea and Arsenal who have received more than one gift this season. We’d probably miss it anyway. But under AVB Spurs have ended 2012 firing on all cylinders.
*** A happy and healthy New Year to all readers of this blog. May your hopes and dreams be realised in 2013. We may share one or two of them ;).
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Bale force blows down Villa
In a week where rain and floods caused chaos across Britain, another natural phenomenon wreaked havoc in the Midlands. Gareth Bale stamped his world class imprint all over the second half as Spurs cantered to victory over a shellshocked Aston Villa. An even greater surprise was a third consecutive clean sheet. Seasoned Spurs watchers rubbed their eyes in disbelief as Tottenham somehow failed to surrender a poxy late consolation. This is not the Spurs we know and love.
A dominant first half delivered everything but the goal. There were more corners than a fridge full of Muller yoghurts yet Spurs’ almost comical dominance went unrewarded. Like a toothless youth in the Twilight saga, there was little bite about Tottenham in the final third. Villa were a different proposition in the opening second half skirmishes. Paul Lambert’s half-time rocket and positional rejig seemingly galvanised the home side and the more fearful among us awaited a sucker punch on boxing day, but it never came.
The shift in the game’s dynamic suited Tottenham. A more purposeful, attacking Villa approach left large spaces to be exploited and Spurs, through the pace and incision of Bale, took clinical advantage. A sublime, almost Iniesta-like, pass from Kyle Naughton unlocked the Villa back door and afforded Jermain Defoe the time to adroitly put Spurs ahead.
Stung into action, Villa pushed for an equaliser yet the excellent Sandro’s timely intervention prompted a sweeping counter that Bale rounded off with aplomb. Even Fabian Delph’s wreckless yellow carded challenge could not halt the surging Welshman. He scored his third off-balance and fourth with an emphatic finish high into the roof of the net sending the away support into raptures and Andre Villas Boas’ charges into fourth place on goal difference. Sheer nosebleed territory.
There was much to admire about this performance, but I particularly admired AVB’s rotation policy and gamble at the back given the thicket of festive fixtures. Michael Dawson’s brawn and aerial ability were a prerequisite against the physical demands of Stoke City yet the defensive nous and positional play of William Gallas in the testing, early exchanges of the second half were a key contributor to this victory. The emerging Naughton, again, showed promise as a makeshift left-back and the maligned Kyle Walker was blissfully error-free on his return to Villa Park. Scott Parker’s effective cameo off the bench provided another encouraging aspect given the forthcoming fixture congestion.
What a contrast to Spurs’ last visit to the stadium where Parker’s late introduction was greeted with ire and a lovely way to shrug off the Christmas meat sweats.
A dominant first half delivered everything but the goal. There were more corners than a fridge full of Muller yoghurts yet Spurs’ almost comical dominance went unrewarded. Like a toothless youth in the Twilight saga, there was little bite about Tottenham in the final third. Villa were a different proposition in the opening second half skirmishes. Paul Lambert’s half-time rocket and positional rejig seemingly galvanised the home side and the more fearful among us awaited a sucker punch on boxing day, but it never came.
The shift in the game’s dynamic suited Tottenham. A more purposeful, attacking Villa approach left large spaces to be exploited and Spurs, through the pace and incision of Bale, took clinical advantage. A sublime, almost Iniesta-like, pass from Kyle Naughton unlocked the Villa back door and afforded Jermain Defoe the time to adroitly put Spurs ahead.
Stung into action, Villa pushed for an equaliser yet the excellent Sandro’s timely intervention prompted a sweeping counter that Bale rounded off with aplomb. Even Fabian Delph’s wreckless yellow carded challenge could not halt the surging Welshman. He scored his third off-balance and fourth with an emphatic finish high into the roof of the net sending the away support into raptures and Andre Villas Boas’ charges into fourth place on goal difference. Sheer nosebleed territory.
There was much to admire about this performance, but I particularly admired AVB’s rotation policy and gamble at the back given the thicket of festive fixtures. Michael Dawson’s brawn and aerial ability were a prerequisite against the physical demands of Stoke City yet the defensive nous and positional play of William Gallas in the testing, early exchanges of the second half were a key contributor to this victory. The emerging Naughton, again, showed promise as a makeshift left-back and the maligned Kyle Walker was blissfully error-free on his return to Villa Park. Scott Parker’s effective cameo off the bench provided another encouraging aspect given the forthcoming fixture congestion.
What a contrast to Spurs’ last visit to the stadium where Parker’s late introduction was greeted with ire and a lovely way to shrug off the Christmas meat sweats.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
AVB > PMT > Stoke City
Stoke City are more defensive than a turkey in the approach to Christmas. Perhaps it was inevitable that the well-drilled Potters backline would neutralise Spurs’ frustrated forward flurries and earn their ninth clean sheet of the season. More surprising, maybe, was that the home side managed a second straight shut-out of their own.
Few can deny that Tony Pulis organises his teams effectively with an almost unrivalled resilience, but if Stoke were playing in your back garden you would probably draw the curtains and hope for a sudden infestation of triffids. It is football, but not as we choose to know it.
I started the morning with every intention of heading to White Hart Lane (despite another impromptu ‘home’ move) yet instead spent the afternoon watching a chick flick at the cinema while gazing at my phone for match updates. The girlfriend had a spot of ‘lady trouble’and I made a late judgment call that I would rather watch a girlie movie in the company of a premenstrual woman than be hypnotized by the windmill-like arms of Ryan Shawcross.
In the post-match, perspective-free climate where hysteria reigns and you are only as good as your last result then this draw was a minor disappointment, but Spurs head into Christmas on equal points with the third place team whose fans were burning replica shirts just 11 days ago.
The intense festive period usually throws up a mixed bag of results yet the Andre Villas-Boas reign is more than keeping pace. Be hopeful, but most of all be patient. And pray for triffids ahead of the next Stoke game.
***May I wish all readers of this blog a very Happy Christmas. Your support and readership is greatly appreciated. Have a memorable time this holiday season, in whatever way you choose to spend it.
Few can deny that Tony Pulis organises his teams effectively with an almost unrivalled resilience, but if Stoke were playing in your back garden you would probably draw the curtains and hope for a sudden infestation of triffids. It is football, but not as we choose to know it.
I started the morning with every intention of heading to White Hart Lane (despite another impromptu ‘home’ move) yet instead spent the afternoon watching a chick flick at the cinema while gazing at my phone for match updates. The girlfriend had a spot of ‘lady trouble’and I made a late judgment call that I would rather watch a girlie movie in the company of a premenstrual woman than be hypnotized by the windmill-like arms of Ryan Shawcross.
In the post-match, perspective-free climate where hysteria reigns and you are only as good as your last result then this draw was a minor disappointment, but Spurs head into Christmas on equal points with the third place team whose fans were burning replica shirts just 11 days ago.
The intense festive period usually throws up a mixed bag of results yet the Andre Villas-Boas reign is more than keeping pace. Be hopeful, but most of all be patient. And pray for triffids ahead of the next Stoke game.
***May I wish all readers of this blog a very Happy Christmas. Your support and readership is greatly appreciated. Have a memorable time this holiday season, in whatever way you choose to spend it.
Monday, December 17, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
AVB: Witness the unfitness
Hatem Ben Arfa, James Morrison, Robert Snodgrass, Hal Robson-Kanu, Daniel Sturridge, Simeon Jackson, Jan Vertonghen, Edin Dzeko, Theo Walcott, Andy Carroll, Gregorz Raziak, Steven Pienaar and Nikica Jelavic. The roll call of late goalscorers against Spurs continues to grow. Okay, Rasiak didn’t score, but even a static Pole with a criminal haircut might net against Tottenham in the last 10 minutes.
The grim but unsurprising statistic that Spurs would be top of the Premier League (and in the League Cup quarter-finals) if games finished on 80 minutes highlights a trend that shows little sign of relenting.
Inevitably some will blame William Gallas for chain-smoking by a goalpost or Hugo Lloris reading Proust to a ballboy, but perhaps a simple lack of fitness is the key. When Sebastien Bassong left Spurs just before the end of the transfer window, he was asked the difference between the training regimens of new boss Andre Villas-Boas and everyone’s un/favourite ex-gaffer Harry Redknapp. The answer was unusually illuminating.
According to Bassong, most of Spurs’ training under Redknapp focused on ‘running’ with new coach Villas-Boas concentrating on playing football through which the team would ‘naturally’ gain fitness. Has AVB failed to witness the unfitness?
Of course, Saturday’s late reverse against Everton came against a quality side, away from home, several days after Spurs had played in the Europa League with the likes of Gareth Bale, Younes Kaboul, Benoit Assou-Ekotto and Scott Parker still missing and the talismanic Mousa Dembele, almost inevitably, off the pitch.
Yet disappointment should be diluted by the previous three league wins on the bounce, progress to the last 32 of European competition and that Spurs remain on equal points with fourth place Everton. Away fixtures against five of last season’s top six sides (excluding Spurs) have also been fulfilled.
In the words of the late Whitney Houston, ’it’s not right, but it’s okay’ (except in the last 10 minutes).
*Regular readers of this blog may have noticed my absence over the last 10 days. Like Alan Partridge before me, I am currently living in a hotel after a crazy home move (into storage), heinous work deadline, emotional wedding and an early hours brush with Brighton’s knife community. Regular service will hopefully be resumed soon.
The grim but unsurprising statistic that Spurs would be top of the Premier League (and in the League Cup quarter-finals) if games finished on 80 minutes highlights a trend that shows little sign of relenting.
Inevitably some will blame William Gallas for chain-smoking by a goalpost or Hugo Lloris reading Proust to a ballboy, but perhaps a simple lack of fitness is the key. When Sebastien Bassong left Spurs just before the end of the transfer window, he was asked the difference between the training regimens of new boss Andre Villas-Boas and everyone’s un/favourite ex-gaffer Harry Redknapp. The answer was unusually illuminating.
According to Bassong, most of Spurs’ training under Redknapp focused on ‘running’ with new coach Villas-Boas concentrating on playing football through which the team would ‘naturally’ gain fitness. Has AVB failed to witness the unfitness?
Of course, Saturday’s late reverse against Everton came against a quality side, away from home, several days after Spurs had played in the Europa League with the likes of Gareth Bale, Younes Kaboul, Benoit Assou-Ekotto and Scott Parker still missing and the talismanic Mousa Dembele, almost inevitably, off the pitch.
Yet disappointment should be diluted by the previous three league wins on the bounce, progress to the last 32 of European competition and that Spurs remain on equal points with fourth place Everton. Away fixtures against five of last season’s top six sides (excluding Spurs) have also been fulfilled.
In the words of the late Whitney Houston, ’it’s not right, but it’s okay’ (except in the last 10 minutes).
*Regular readers of this blog may have noticed my absence over the last 10 days. Like Alan Partridge before me, I am currently living in a hotel after a crazy home move (into storage), heinous work deadline, emotional wedding and an early hours brush with Brighton’s knife community. Regular service will hopefully be resumed soon.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Passed to death, but new life in Kyle Walker
The renaissance of Kyle Walker has begun. After a rough nine months, which hit rock bottom when the 'PFA Young Player of the Year’ was subjected to mindless abuse by a minority of Spurs fans in the home defeat to Chelsea, the form is beginning to return. Class is permanent, they say, and the sudden revival of Walker adds credence to that maxim.
On Sunday, Walker saw off two West Ham wingers in his best display since Spurs blew that massive points advantage over Arsenal last season and three days later the jet-heeled right-back was the standout defender as Spurs repelled a late Liverpool surge for their second win on the spin. Walker’s goalline clearance from a blocked Steven Gerrard shot was nothing short of sensational.
It was a busy evening for Walker and co. The Brendan Rodgers’ passing model was in full flow. Returning talisman Mousa Dembele is still struggling for fitness but was often the glue that held Spurs’ sieve-like midfield together as the defensive corps were forced to work for long periods during sustained Liverpool pressure in the second half. Sandro was oddly ineffectual – the match literally passed him by – perhaps he had not fully recovered from the injury sustained against West Ham.
The skill and trickery of Luis Suarez, Raheem Sterling and Jose Enrique in an advanced role caused constant problems for a backline featuring Spurs’ fourth and fifth string centre-halves and an out of position Jan Vertonghen. Never forget that Younes Kaboul and Vertonghen are the starters at centre-half with Steven Caulker an able deputy. Spurs are lucky to have such strength in depth in this position, but the understudies were tested rigorously in this rivetting encounter.
Michael Dawson and William Gallas are not the quickest of operators and, while frequently wrong-footed, they both showed admirable powers of recovery in what became a backs-to-the-wall situation when Clint Dempsey was replaced by the listless Gylfi Sigurdsson in the second half. Gallas, while sometimes ponderous against clever forward play, still made some pivotal interventions which no doubt went unnoticed by those with selective myopia.
At times, the home defending felt frantic, almost calamitous, with under-pressure Spurs players dawdling on the ball outside the box when clearing their lines was the only and best option. With the pint-sized Jermain Defoe on his own up front, there was no ‘out ball’ on offer and, on those rare occasions the ball found the striker, he was often being manhandled by Martin Skrtel to prevent any onward movement. That omnipresent ‘clever defending’.
This defensive uncertainty made for a tense finale, but a thrilling game in hindsight. Gareth Bale had an eventful evening and showed flashes of his usual brilliance early on, finding Lennon for the opener after a marauding left-wing run and sweeping in a free-kick to give Tottenham a giddy 2-0 advantage on 16 minutes that looked frequently under threat for the rest of the game. For all their possession and positive play, Liverpool were thankfully toothless and Suarez reliant in the final third and perhaps it was no surprise that their reply resulted from Lennon’s goalline clearance ridiculously cannoning off Bale and into the net. The away side merited a draw, but from a home perspective it was refreshing to see Spurs hold on to a lead after this season’s flood of late conceded goals.
It would not be a fixture against Liverpool without Gerrard and Suarez collapsing in the penalty area when goalside of a Spurs defender. Tottenham were certainly fortunate that Phil Dowd, no lover of Liverpool, was the referee. Dowd’s first free kick for the 'Reds' was awarded on 44 minutes! Neither looked a spot-kick on review, but both players deserve credit for artistic impression and post-decision arm-flapping. The t-shirt printers in Liverpool will probably be busy today.
The booking of Bale for ‘simulation’ was instigated by the snarling response of Daniel Agger who has no ethical problems playing alongside the talented but toxic Suarez, arguably the most prominent simulator in modern football. It looked a free-kick, and certainly not a booking, from my vantage point in the Paxton End. Ironically, the free-kick which Bale scored from was not and courtesy of a trademark Dempsey ‘tumble’.
A rare lucky day for Spurs and a red letter one for the resurgent Walker.
On Sunday, Walker saw off two West Ham wingers in his best display since Spurs blew that massive points advantage over Arsenal last season and three days later the jet-heeled right-back was the standout defender as Spurs repelled a late Liverpool surge for their second win on the spin. Walker’s goalline clearance from a blocked Steven Gerrard shot was nothing short of sensational.
It was a busy evening for Walker and co. The Brendan Rodgers’ passing model was in full flow. Returning talisman Mousa Dembele is still struggling for fitness but was often the glue that held Spurs’ sieve-like midfield together as the defensive corps were forced to work for long periods during sustained Liverpool pressure in the second half. Sandro was oddly ineffectual – the match literally passed him by – perhaps he had not fully recovered from the injury sustained against West Ham.
The skill and trickery of Luis Suarez, Raheem Sterling and Jose Enrique in an advanced role caused constant problems for a backline featuring Spurs’ fourth and fifth string centre-halves and an out of position Jan Vertonghen. Never forget that Younes Kaboul and Vertonghen are the starters at centre-half with Steven Caulker an able deputy. Spurs are lucky to have such strength in depth in this position, but the understudies were tested rigorously in this rivetting encounter.
Michael Dawson and William Gallas are not the quickest of operators and, while frequently wrong-footed, they both showed admirable powers of recovery in what became a backs-to-the-wall situation when Clint Dempsey was replaced by the listless Gylfi Sigurdsson in the second half. Gallas, while sometimes ponderous against clever forward play, still made some pivotal interventions which no doubt went unnoticed by those with selective myopia.
At times, the home defending felt frantic, almost calamitous, with under-pressure Spurs players dawdling on the ball outside the box when clearing their lines was the only and best option. With the pint-sized Jermain Defoe on his own up front, there was no ‘out ball’ on offer and, on those rare occasions the ball found the striker, he was often being manhandled by Martin Skrtel to prevent any onward movement. That omnipresent ‘clever defending’.
This defensive uncertainty made for a tense finale, but a thrilling game in hindsight. Gareth Bale had an eventful evening and showed flashes of his usual brilliance early on, finding Lennon for the opener after a marauding left-wing run and sweeping in a free-kick to give Tottenham a giddy 2-0 advantage on 16 minutes that looked frequently under threat for the rest of the game. For all their possession and positive play, Liverpool were thankfully toothless and Suarez reliant in the final third and perhaps it was no surprise that their reply resulted from Lennon’s goalline clearance ridiculously cannoning off Bale and into the net. The away side merited a draw, but from a home perspective it was refreshing to see Spurs hold on to a lead after this season’s flood of late conceded goals.
It would not be a fixture against Liverpool without Gerrard and Suarez collapsing in the penalty area when goalside of a Spurs defender. Tottenham were certainly fortunate that Phil Dowd, no lover of Liverpool, was the referee. Dowd’s first free kick for the 'Reds' was awarded on 44 minutes! Neither looked a spot-kick on review, but both players deserve credit for artistic impression and post-decision arm-flapping. The t-shirt printers in Liverpool will probably be busy today.
The booking of Bale for ‘simulation’ was instigated by the snarling response of Daniel Agger who has no ethical problems playing alongside the talented but toxic Suarez, arguably the most prominent simulator in modern football. It looked a free-kick, and certainly not a booking, from my vantage point in the Paxton End. Ironically, the free-kick which Bale scored from was not and courtesy of a trademark Dempsey ‘tumble’.
A rare lucky day for Spurs and a red letter one for the resurgent Walker.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
The Big Sam Theory (disproved by Defoe)
Scientists insist that Sam Allardyce was not responsible for the creation of the universe, even if the West Ham manager believes himself to be the centre of it. Some 13.75 billion years after the universe was created, a second big bang was audible in North London. The noise was the sound of Allardyce’s pre-match comments backfiring.
Allardyce, once linked (by himself!) to the Real Madrid job, had been in bullish mood ahead of West Ham’s visit to White Hart Lane, predicting Spurs vulnerability and fatigue after Thursday’s excursion to Rome. ‘Big Sam’ was at least partially correct. The celebrations were exhausting.
Andy Carroll and the West Ham caravan rolled into N17 with the third best defence in the league. They rolled out chastened and pointless after Tottenham’s most encouraging home display this season. The old fluency returned after recent patchy performances. Jermain Defoe’s livewire run and finish just before the break sparked an enterprising second half where home goals looked as likely as they have all season.
The maligned Clint Dempsey suddenly came to the fore, rattling the bar before unlocking the West Ham backline with a clever dink that released the rampaging Gareth Bale for a crucial second. Shortly afterwards, the ‘US player of the year’ capitalised on some excellent defensive play by Tom Huddlestone and Sandro to set the scampering Aaron Lennon free before the winger’s unselfish cross brought Defoe his second goal and breathing space for Spurs.
After his heroics in Rome, Hugo Lloris retained his place in goal and showed cat-like awareness in the box, snuffing out rare West Ham attacks and critically denying a breakaway equaliser with a smart interception from a Kevin Nolan cross moments before Spurs took control via Bale and Defoe. A less than stellar clearance by Stephen Caulker denied Tottenham an elusive clean sheet, but Carroll’s pony-tailed nod was scant consolation for West Ham in their 'cup final'.
The last time they won at White Hart Lane was 1999. Back then celebrity Hammer Russell Brand was as high as a kite. He still had more perspective than Big Sam. Bang.
*** Despite previous indiscretions, I made another guest appearance on the excellent Fighting Cock podcast this week. Tune in here.
Allardyce, once linked (by himself!) to the Real Madrid job, had been in bullish mood ahead of West Ham’s visit to White Hart Lane, predicting Spurs vulnerability and fatigue after Thursday’s excursion to Rome. ‘Big Sam’ was at least partially correct. The celebrations were exhausting.
Andy Carroll and the West Ham caravan rolled into N17 with the third best defence in the league. They rolled out chastened and pointless after Tottenham’s most encouraging home display this season. The old fluency returned after recent patchy performances. Jermain Defoe’s livewire run and finish just before the break sparked an enterprising second half where home goals looked as likely as they have all season.
The maligned Clint Dempsey suddenly came to the fore, rattling the bar before unlocking the West Ham backline with a clever dink that released the rampaging Gareth Bale for a crucial second. Shortly afterwards, the ‘US player of the year’ capitalised on some excellent defensive play by Tom Huddlestone and Sandro to set the scampering Aaron Lennon free before the winger’s unselfish cross brought Defoe his second goal and breathing space for Spurs.
After his heroics in Rome, Hugo Lloris retained his place in goal and showed cat-like awareness in the box, snuffing out rare West Ham attacks and critically denying a breakaway equaliser with a smart interception from a Kevin Nolan cross moments before Spurs took control via Bale and Defoe. A less than stellar clearance by Stephen Caulker denied Tottenham an elusive clean sheet, but Carroll’s pony-tailed nod was scant consolation for West Ham in their 'cup final'.
The last time they won at White Hart Lane was 1999. Back then celebrity Hammer Russell Brand was as high as a kite. He still had more perspective than Big Sam. Bang.
*** Despite previous indiscretions, I made another guest appearance on the excellent Fighting Cock podcast this week. Tune in here.
Friday, November 23, 2012
The existential world of Monsieur Hugo Lloris
Until recently, one could be forgiven for thinking that Hugo Lloris isn’t real. Since rolling up to the Spurs training ground on transfer deadline day with his scarf tied whimsically into a cravat, the French national captain has made a handful of appearances rather than a gloveful of saves. The ‘Lloris or Friedel’ debate has raged with poor Hugo lost, at times, in pure existentialist despair, but the Frenchman’s one-man show in Rome appeared to finally provide a solution to Andre Villas-Boas’ seemingly unanswerable question.
A number of fine Lloris saves at Lazio’s Stadio Olimpico kept Spurs’ European dream alive though this is a little misleading. But for questionable officiating Tottenham would have already qualified for the next stage of the Europa League and further overseas adventures in 2013. Given Italian football’s long association with corruption and scandal, one cannot help but raise an eyebrow when three legitimate Spurs goals are chalked off in favour of one of its teams in two separate matches.
The conspiracy theorists among us may also point to the bizarre situation where a bloodied Kyle Walker was refused access to the field for wearing one of the club’s ‘blood shirts’. Number ‘49’ is reserved for those rare occasions where a player’s blood-soaked jersey is replaced mid-game, but despite being standard practice in the Premier League (and nothing untoward) UEFA officials used this impromptu shirt change as an excuse to deny Walker’s return for several uncomfortable minutes. Lazio duly exploited the additional space and almost scored.
Yet after Gareth Bale’s onside effort was ludicrously ruled out in the early stages, it was a nervy, backs-to-the-wall performance with Spurs offering precious little creativity outside an occasional sortie from the Welsh wonder and the clever promptings of pint-sized midfielder Tom Carroll aka ‘Modric Lite’.
Step forward Monsieur Hugo Lloris. The sterling performances of ageless American Brad Friedel have relegated the French national captain to the bench, unfairly in the eyes of many, but this was the game where Lloris justified French hyperbole with a string of super stops that put Spurs on the brink of the competition's last 32.
Only a home draw against Panathanaikos is required for progression in the tournament. Europa League games have been, in recent times, criminally underattended at White Hart Lane so please support the team and buy tickets here. At £20 they should be within most fans’ budgets. The 1882 movement will be occupying Blocks 32/33 and once more adding song and soul to the occasion. Be there.
***Best wishes and thoughts go to those Spurs fans injured in a bar in Rome on Wednesday evening. Despite its grand architectural beauty, the city has always fostered an unpleasant and unfriendly edge and this is only the latest in a long line of attacks on English fans seeking nothing more than a relaxing break and the entertainment of a football match. We can only hope that visiting fans of all clubs will receive better fortunes and protection in the future, but bitter experience suggests it’s unlikely.
A number of fine Lloris saves at Lazio’s Stadio Olimpico kept Spurs’ European dream alive though this is a little misleading. But for questionable officiating Tottenham would have already qualified for the next stage of the Europa League and further overseas adventures in 2013. Given Italian football’s long association with corruption and scandal, one cannot help but raise an eyebrow when three legitimate Spurs goals are chalked off in favour of one of its teams in two separate matches.
The conspiracy theorists among us may also point to the bizarre situation where a bloodied Kyle Walker was refused access to the field for wearing one of the club’s ‘blood shirts’. Number ‘49’ is reserved for those rare occasions where a player’s blood-soaked jersey is replaced mid-game, but despite being standard practice in the Premier League (and nothing untoward) UEFA officials used this impromptu shirt change as an excuse to deny Walker’s return for several uncomfortable minutes. Lazio duly exploited the additional space and almost scored.
Yet after Gareth Bale’s onside effort was ludicrously ruled out in the early stages, it was a nervy, backs-to-the-wall performance with Spurs offering precious little creativity outside an occasional sortie from the Welsh wonder and the clever promptings of pint-sized midfielder Tom Carroll aka ‘Modric Lite’.
Step forward Monsieur Hugo Lloris. The sterling performances of ageless American Brad Friedel have relegated the French national captain to the bench, unfairly in the eyes of many, but this was the game where Lloris justified French hyperbole with a string of super stops that put Spurs on the brink of the competition's last 32.
Only a home draw against Panathanaikos is required for progression in the tournament. Europa League games have been, in recent times, criminally underattended at White Hart Lane so please support the team and buy tickets here. At £20 they should be within most fans’ budgets. The 1882 movement will be occupying Blocks 32/33 and once more adding song and soul to the occasion. Be there.
***Best wishes and thoughts go to those Spurs fans injured in a bar in Rome on Wednesday evening. Despite its grand architectural beauty, the city has always fostered an unpleasant and unfriendly edge and this is only the latest in a long line of attacks on English fans seeking nothing more than a relaxing break and the entertainment of a football match. We can only hope that visiting fans of all clubs will receive better fortunes and protection in the future, but bitter experience suggests it’s unlikely.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
The beautiful losers of Tottenham Hotspur FC
Support for many people relates to an office IT guy or a comfortable bra size. But not for me. Loyalty is the virtue that defines and separates the beloved and irrelevant in our lives. Too often this feels like a forgotten, almost alien, concept in modern football with its single serving fans drinking pitchers of Fosters on faux leather pub sofas and the online post-match rage, blame culture and insecure trolling from young men who have not yet known the touch of a woman.
For 90 minutes of a largely Emmanuel Adebayor-free game, I sang in the trenches. When other less hardy away fans fell quiet or filtered out of that soulless stadium, forged in the pits of corporate hell, I found empowering, Spurs-fuelled words to fill their absence. In the second half, real Tottenham supporters, the true and blue bloods, stood and joined me in song and an omnishambles of a game, punctuated by under-par refereeing, poor form and absent heroes, soon faded from view. We were back where we were supposed to be, singing and supporting, representing and validating the club that we love and cherish to the depths of our souls. The regular silence of Arsenal ‘fans’ (with their team clearly in command) was all too predictable. A hooped, old school scarf is not an indication of loyalty. It’s a statement of wankerism.
The calamity Kyles, Walker and Naughton, were thankfully withdrawn at half-time by Andre Villas-Boas and then fortunes, for the most part, improved. The hapless Naughton was, in fairness, playing out of position at left back but Walker now sadly resembles a human road sign. His best defensive moves this season have taken place on Twitter. He needs time off the field to regroup and return a better player. At the moment, he’s an accident waiting to happen. Anyone who doubts the corn-rowed brilliance of Benoit Assou-Ekotto, take a drug test now. This option does not apply to Jack Wilshere, the human equivalent of a Coke Zero.
One cannot help but feel a little sorry for Villas-Boas. There is a hefty asterisk associated with his early Spurs ‘failure’. The Portuguese is an inverted Harry Redknapp, an increasingly luckless individual whose every tactic or turn appears hampered by key injuries or Daniel Levy’s calamitous ‘everything must go’ summer squad sale. An anorexic, striker light bench will now weaken further in light of Adebayor’s suspension. We’re down to a solitary striker (as grimly predicted on this blog) for the next three league games. Lucy Pinder has greater options up front. And she could easily distract Jermain Defoe should West Ham field her next weekend. Dodgy Davids Sullivan and Gold certainly have form in this area.
The largely misleading 5-2, 10-man defeat may appear a life and death result now, but the Adebayor sending off (yellow or red?) and key injuries were mitigating factors. Spurs bossed the game with 11 men and half a team missing before old foe Howard Webb (who missed Mario Balotelli’s three-stamp on Scott Parker) rejoiced in an instant dismissal for Adebayor. Yet this is not an exceptional Arsenal team but a club in a tailspin that requires a one man advantage or the helping hand of a human billiard ball. For all Spurs’ limitations, we still have a more than decent chance of finishing ahead of celebrated heterosexual Sol Campbell’s favourite north London team.
As I zig-zagged through the shuffling red-shirted zombies on my way back to my local pub in Crouch End, I almost pitied the celebrating bug-faced hordes. Three points cannot cure personal deformity. Within a few games, South London’s finest will lose again and this brief sense of joy and entitlement will swiftly be replaced by limp-wristed threats of bin bags and those embarrassing ‘Wenger out’ protests.
Let them have their false dawn. I walked into that hellhole Tottenham and I walked out with Tottenham branded on my heart, guts and soul. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
For 90 minutes of a largely Emmanuel Adebayor-free game, I sang in the trenches. When other less hardy away fans fell quiet or filtered out of that soulless stadium, forged in the pits of corporate hell, I found empowering, Spurs-fuelled words to fill their absence. In the second half, real Tottenham supporters, the true and blue bloods, stood and joined me in song and an omnishambles of a game, punctuated by under-par refereeing, poor form and absent heroes, soon faded from view. We were back where we were supposed to be, singing and supporting, representing and validating the club that we love and cherish to the depths of our souls. The regular silence of Arsenal ‘fans’ (with their team clearly in command) was all too predictable. A hooped, old school scarf is not an indication of loyalty. It’s a statement of wankerism.
The calamity Kyles, Walker and Naughton, were thankfully withdrawn at half-time by Andre Villas-Boas and then fortunes, for the most part, improved. The hapless Naughton was, in fairness, playing out of position at left back but Walker now sadly resembles a human road sign. His best defensive moves this season have taken place on Twitter. He needs time off the field to regroup and return a better player. At the moment, he’s an accident waiting to happen. Anyone who doubts the corn-rowed brilliance of Benoit Assou-Ekotto, take a drug test now. This option does not apply to Jack Wilshere, the human equivalent of a Coke Zero.
One cannot help but feel a little sorry for Villas-Boas. There is a hefty asterisk associated with his early Spurs ‘failure’. The Portuguese is an inverted Harry Redknapp, an increasingly luckless individual whose every tactic or turn appears hampered by key injuries or Daniel Levy’s calamitous ‘everything must go’ summer squad sale. An anorexic, striker light bench will now weaken further in light of Adebayor’s suspension. We’re down to a solitary striker (as grimly predicted on this blog) for the next three league games. Lucy Pinder has greater options up front. And she could easily distract Jermain Defoe should West Ham field her next weekend. Dodgy Davids Sullivan and Gold certainly have form in this area.
The largely misleading 5-2, 10-man defeat may appear a life and death result now, but the Adebayor sending off (yellow or red?) and key injuries were mitigating factors. Spurs bossed the game with 11 men and half a team missing before old foe Howard Webb (who missed Mario Balotelli’s three-stamp on Scott Parker) rejoiced in an instant dismissal for Adebayor. Yet this is not an exceptional Arsenal team but a club in a tailspin that requires a one man advantage or the helping hand of a human billiard ball. For all Spurs’ limitations, we still have a more than decent chance of finishing ahead of celebrated heterosexual Sol Campbell’s favourite north London team.
As I zig-zagged through the shuffling red-shirted zombies on my way back to my local pub in Crouch End, I almost pitied the celebrating bug-faced hordes. Three points cannot cure personal deformity. Within a few games, South London’s finest will lose again and this brief sense of joy and entitlement will swiftly be replaced by limp-wristed threats of bin bags and those embarrassing ‘Wenger out’ protests.
Let them have their false dawn. I walked into that hellhole Tottenham and I walked out with Tottenham branded on my heart, guts and soul. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
AVB: Messiah…or fool?
Andre Villas-Boas is Tottenham’s most divisive manager since, er, Harry Redknapp. The Portuguese can do no right in some fans’ eyes and no wrong in others. Villas-Boas will inevitably make mistakes and their severity will dictate his future as Spurs boss; the only certainty is that his reign will not be defined by a 2-1 away defeat to billionaire bankrolled Manchester City.
At the Etihad Stadium, Emmanuel Adebayor’s substitution was greeted with anger and derision by pockets of the Spurs away support around me. I had called the change minutes earlier feeling that the effective Adebayor’s ongoing spat with City’s Pablo Zabaleta might have seen the Togo striker dismissed for a second yellow card.
The obnoxious Zabaleta adroitly switched roles from mugger to victim with Adebayor the constant focus of his ire. It reminded me a little of the way Peter Crouch was targeted by Real Madrid in the Champions League quarter-final first leg. Villas-Boas duly made a ‘like-for-like’ striker change that was anything but. While Adebayor and Jermain Defoe technically play the same position they are poles apart as players.
The predatory Defoe offers greater pace on the counter, but in a game that was fast becoming a backs-to-the-wall situation cannot offer the focal point of Adebayor and his nous for bringing others into play. Clint Dempsey has proven as anonymous as namesake Eastwood’s film roles of late and was the preferred option among many fans for withdrawal. Yet a conventional 4-4-2 at City would have likely opened up the floodgates at this point. Dempsey for Defoe was not a realistic switch with bullish billionaires City in the ascendancy and their wing-backs pushing on furiously for the win. One glance at the sidelines showed Jake Livermore, Gylfi Sigurdsson and Tom Carroll sitting in tracksuits. The Tottenham bench looks thinner than Victoria Beckham on a beach holiday. Money is a great divider and, compared to City, we shop at Poundland and this financial disparity should always dilute expectations with a healthy drop of realism.
With many of City’s team and bench in the £20million plus bracket and Spurs stripped of midfield dynamo Mousa Dembele, defensive rock Younes Kaboul as well as player of the season Scott Parker and celebrated LOL-merchant Benoit Assou-Ekotto this away day was always a tough ask, especially given City’s long unbeaten run on home soil. Positives were the welcome return of Sandro who put in a characteristic ball-breaking performance, the overdue inclusion of Adebayor in a Premier League starting line-up and some spirited stops by the ageless Brad Friedel.
It is fair to say that Villas-Boas’ tactical acumen has not come as advertised. He is certainly guilty of negative substitutions in positive positions. But he has been hamstrung by injuries and Daniel Levy’s ‘careful’ spending policy (Spurs were again in the black in the last transfer window having moved on star players Luka Modric and Rafael van der Vaart for that ubiquitous ‘good deal’ while once more sidestepping a pressing need for an additional striker).
AVB cannot yet be labelled messiah or fool; he merely requires the time neither of those individuals have.
At the Etihad Stadium, Emmanuel Adebayor’s substitution was greeted with anger and derision by pockets of the Spurs away support around me. I had called the change minutes earlier feeling that the effective Adebayor’s ongoing spat with City’s Pablo Zabaleta might have seen the Togo striker dismissed for a second yellow card.
The obnoxious Zabaleta adroitly switched roles from mugger to victim with Adebayor the constant focus of his ire. It reminded me a little of the way Peter Crouch was targeted by Real Madrid in the Champions League quarter-final first leg. Villas-Boas duly made a ‘like-for-like’ striker change that was anything but. While Adebayor and Jermain Defoe technically play the same position they are poles apart as players.
The predatory Defoe offers greater pace on the counter, but in a game that was fast becoming a backs-to-the-wall situation cannot offer the focal point of Adebayor and his nous for bringing others into play. Clint Dempsey has proven as anonymous as namesake Eastwood’s film roles of late and was the preferred option among many fans for withdrawal. Yet a conventional 4-4-2 at City would have likely opened up the floodgates at this point. Dempsey for Defoe was not a realistic switch with bullish billionaires City in the ascendancy and their wing-backs pushing on furiously for the win. One glance at the sidelines showed Jake Livermore, Gylfi Sigurdsson and Tom Carroll sitting in tracksuits. The Tottenham bench looks thinner than Victoria Beckham on a beach holiday. Money is a great divider and, compared to City, we shop at Poundland and this financial disparity should always dilute expectations with a healthy drop of realism.
With many of City’s team and bench in the £20million plus bracket and Spurs stripped of midfield dynamo Mousa Dembele, defensive rock Younes Kaboul as well as player of the season Scott Parker and celebrated LOL-merchant Benoit Assou-Ekotto this away day was always a tough ask, especially given City’s long unbeaten run on home soil. Positives were the welcome return of Sandro who put in a characteristic ball-breaking performance, the overdue inclusion of Adebayor in a Premier League starting line-up and some spirited stops by the ageless Brad Friedel.
It is fair to say that Villas-Boas’ tactical acumen has not come as advertised. He is certainly guilty of negative substitutions in positive positions. But he has been hamstrung by injuries and Daniel Levy’s ‘careful’ spending policy (Spurs were again in the black in the last transfer window having moved on star players Luka Modric and Rafael van der Vaart for that ubiquitous ‘good deal’ while once more sidestepping a pressing need for an additional striker).
AVB cannot yet be labelled messiah or fool; he merely requires the time neither of those individuals have.
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