To protect the innocent, the identities of some people have been changed in the publication of this story.
A devil walks among us. This master of the dark arts is responsible for the greatest debacles in Tottenham history. I pray you do not know him. His name is 'Satan Spur'.
I was introduced to this bad omen during Tottenham’s bleakest years. For some reason, Satan would often be sitting next to me at away games. He would always be moaning. The weather, the motorway, the team, the price of Farah slacks...he droned on without pause. I took a noose to the Britannia Stadium to alleviate my pain (it was sadly confiscated and is now a fixture at Staffordshire Police’s annual tug of war event).
Whenever I saw this man, Tottenham lost and lost badly. Surely this was a coincidence? I paid attention more closely. My suspicions were soon confirmed - every matchday sighting of Satan Spur resulted in a Tottenham defeat (and another of his mind-numbing monologues). Bizarrely, if our paths did not cross, Tottenham won or drew. The conclusion was obvious. Avoid this man. So shortly before Juande Ramos’ sacking, fellow Yido ‘Person A’ and I formed a desperate plan with Spurs hurtling towards the Championship.
'Person A' rang THFC ticket office to request we be moved as far as humanly possible from Satan at away matches. The effect was immediate and astounding. With Satan Spur nowhere to be seen, Spurs were rejuvenated and within two years the team achieved the unthinkable and qualified for the Champions League.
But then this week, of all weeks, horror showed its face once more. On Tuesday, ahead of the first leg versus Real Madrid, we turned a corner tower at the Bernabeu and there he was....the angel of Tottenham death, his grey cowpat hairstyle gleaming in the Madrid sunshine.
“That’s it....we’re fucked!” exclaimed 'Person A' as Satan Spur ran towards us, armed with more tales of bore. He had been out of the UK until...you guessed it...Spurs' poor run started.
Our Champions League dreams were over. Anyone know a good exorcist?
*Those who doubt Peter Crouch was targeted by Real Madrid need only look at the telltale photo in yesterday’s Metro. A crestfallen Crouch is shown the red card while the 'injured' Marcelo is sitting on the ground pumping his fists with a broad smile on his face. The immediate reaction of every injured player (please imagine sarcastic tone). Give the Brazilian mop head a good ‘waxing’ next week, Spurs fans.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Joe Jordan statement
Tottenham’s striker crisis has been solved by veteran forward Joe Jordan’s shock return to football aged 59. The former Scotland and Manchester United hardman, currently a coach at the North London club, decided to come out of retirement after watching misfiring Spurs draw 0-0 with Premier League strugglers Wigan.
Jordan made this brief statement shortly before headbutting a low-flying bird.
“Aye, the tartan big man willnae take this goolless crap lyin’ doon, ah tell yae. Ah’m back yae drizzlin’ shites. Nae longer will ah watch dose mincers fannae aboot in frontae gools. I cannae wae tae mix it wit dose Stoke boys. Ah’ll wear that Shawcross leek ah mink scarf. Huth? He’ll havetae.
“Delap cannae throo long balls innae box if tha fooker got nae hands. Aye Pulo, ahm’ comin’ for youse southern shite-tasters. That cap willae beh sticking oot youse bum cheeks next Sat'day tae time. Shite mae troosers! A fookin’ bird!”
Jordan made this brief statement shortly before headbutting a low-flying bird.
“Aye, the tartan big man willnae take this goolless crap lyin’ doon, ah tell yae. Ah’m back yae drizzlin’ shites. Nae longer will ah watch dose mincers fannae aboot in frontae gools. I cannae wae tae mix it wit dose Stoke boys. Ah’ll wear that Shawcross leek ah mink scarf. Huth? He’ll havetae.
“Delap cannae throo long balls innae box if tha fooker got nae hands. Aye Pulo, ahm’ comin’ for youse southern shite-tasters. That cap willae beh sticking oot youse bum cheeks next Sat'day tae time. Shite mae troosers! A fookin’ bird!”
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Jermain Defoe vs Sandra Redknapp
Loyalty is a wonderful thing. This admirable virtue cements marriages and bonds lifelong friendships. It is also frequently misplaced.
If Harry Redknapp had as much faith in Roman Pavlyuchenko as he showed the shot shy Jermain Defoe, Tottenham would probably have beaten West Ham on Saturday. An inspirational display from Luka Modric merited as much.
Instead, the Russian sub was brought on (far too late) with just 20 minutes remaining and caused havoc around the West Ham penalty area while Redknapp favourite JD proceeded to fritter away chance after chance. Every striker has matches like this, it‘s part of the game, but the likeable Defoe seems to have little but these days.
Apparently, Jermain has been watching DVDs of Jimmy Greaves to improve his goal tally; presumably this was ‘The Best of Saint and Greavsie’ or a drunken home video from a 1979 Greaves family barbecue where the finishing related to pints.
The recurring criticism of Darren Bent was that he contributed nothing apart from scoring. Oh for that problem now. Bent’s relationship with Redknapp deteriorated after the manager famously ridiculed the striker for missing a simple headed goal in a 1-1 stalemate with Portsmouth. The criticism was myopically selective when you consider Defoe’s continued profligacy and Bent’s outstanding career goal record.
How many of Defoe’s chances today would Sandra Redknapp have converted, I wonder, Harry? We’ll never know because Redknapp, a wonderful manager in every other respect, has a worrying blind spot when it comes to the misfiring Defoe.
Yeah. Sandra would have buried them.
If Harry Redknapp had as much faith in Roman Pavlyuchenko as he showed the shot shy Jermain Defoe, Tottenham would probably have beaten West Ham on Saturday. An inspirational display from Luka Modric merited as much.
Instead, the Russian sub was brought on (far too late) with just 20 minutes remaining and caused havoc around the West Ham penalty area while Redknapp favourite JD proceeded to fritter away chance after chance. Every striker has matches like this, it‘s part of the game, but the likeable Defoe seems to have little but these days.
Apparently, Jermain has been watching DVDs of Jimmy Greaves to improve his goal tally; presumably this was ‘The Best of Saint and Greavsie’ or a drunken home video from a 1979 Greaves family barbecue where the finishing related to pints.
The recurring criticism of Darren Bent was that he contributed nothing apart from scoring. Oh for that problem now. Bent’s relationship with Redknapp deteriorated after the manager famously ridiculed the striker for missing a simple headed goal in a 1-1 stalemate with Portsmouth. The criticism was myopically selective when you consider Defoe’s continued profligacy and Bent’s outstanding career goal record.
How many of Defoe’s chances today would Sandra Redknapp have converted, I wonder, Harry? We’ll never know because Redknapp, a wonderful manager in every other respect, has a worrying blind spot when it comes to the misfiring Defoe.
Yeah. Sandra would have buried them.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Say hello (Spurs), wave goodbye (Arsenal)
I don’t have fingernails. My fingers are but a memory. There’s just a stump where my left hand used to be. That’s the price of tension. Apparently Spurs’ 0-0 draw with AC Milan lasted around 94 minutes – it just felt like an eternity.
Arsenal crashed out of the Champions League, but Tottenham roll on into the quarter-finals. It’s called 48 hours in football dreamland.
I really feared for Spurs ahead of the second leg with the seven-time European Champions. Too many supporters were worryingly complacent. Seasoned European performers Milan would undoubtedly perform better after underestimating Tottenham at the San Siro. Could a defence pierced three times by Wolves withstand a desperate assault from Ibrahimovic, Pato and Robinho?
How did Spurs survive? Sandro was again imperious. The Brazilian, still only 21, has this wonderful knack of effectively harrying and continually getting a crucial foot in. He was Milan’s nemesis again and helped Spurs desperately hold off wave upon wave of Rossoneri possession.
We were outpassed, but hung in there. The ageless Seedorf, anonymous at the San Siro, bossed the midfield. The ball seemingly attached to his feet by an invisible string. Attacks were repelled with a gritty steel not associated with a Tottenham side. The rearguard action was almost Italian in its nature. William Gallas was a key figure. A former Arsenal and Chelsea stalwart, Gallas’ football redemption is now surely complete after his brilliant goal line clearance and battling display alongside the outstanding Michael Dawson in the heart of Spurs’ defence.
Gareth Bale’s introduction may not appear to have had an impact, but his mere presence suddenly committed two or three Milan players to defence when they might have been bombing forward. We dug in as the seconds painfully counted down. The jubilation at the final whistle was only matched by the sense of relief.
Then a wonderful thought dawned upon the breathless Spurs faithful. 'Are you watching Arsenal?' The Champions League must look wonderful from the sofa.
Arsenal crashed out of the Champions League, but Tottenham roll on into the quarter-finals. It’s called 48 hours in football dreamland.
I really feared for Spurs ahead of the second leg with the seven-time European Champions. Too many supporters were worryingly complacent. Seasoned European performers Milan would undoubtedly perform better after underestimating Tottenham at the San Siro. Could a defence pierced three times by Wolves withstand a desperate assault from Ibrahimovic, Pato and Robinho?
How did Spurs survive? Sandro was again imperious. The Brazilian, still only 21, has this wonderful knack of effectively harrying and continually getting a crucial foot in. He was Milan’s nemesis again and helped Spurs desperately hold off wave upon wave of Rossoneri possession.
We were outpassed, but hung in there. The ageless Seedorf, anonymous at the San Siro, bossed the midfield. The ball seemingly attached to his feet by an invisible string. Attacks were repelled with a gritty steel not associated with a Tottenham side. The rearguard action was almost Italian in its nature. William Gallas was a key figure. A former Arsenal and Chelsea stalwart, Gallas’ football redemption is now surely complete after his brilliant goal line clearance and battling display alongside the outstanding Michael Dawson in the heart of Spurs’ defence.
Gareth Bale’s introduction may not appear to have had an impact, but his mere presence suddenly committed two or three Milan players to defence when they might have been bombing forward. We dug in as the seconds painfully counted down. The jubilation at the final whistle was only matched by the sense of relief.
Then a wonderful thought dawned upon the breathless Spurs faithful. 'Are you watching Arsenal?' The Champions League must look wonderful from the sofa.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Howard Webb goes AWOL at Molineux
If only Howard Webb had refereed Wolves vs Spurs. It could have been oh-so-different. The West Midlands marvels might have won 5-3! But sadly England’s finest referee can’t be everywhere. Don’t believe propaganda from the Star Wars Universe...human cloning is not yet a reality, just a dream. Until that joyous day we will have to make do with just one Howard and I will have to wait to entertain Natalie Portman II and III.
Thankfully, Webb’s gleaming dome was nowhere to be seen at Molineux. While Howard was probably enjoying a selection of sliced meats at the Rotherham Harvester, 'less capable stand-in' Mark Halsey failed to send off two Tottenham players, allow a bundled Wolves goal or award a penalty when a ball struck Alan Hutton’s back. We can’t all be Howard, but don't worry, he'll get us in his next game!
Meanwhile, Spurs’ strikers embarked on a veritable goal orgy! Jermain Defoe lamped in two wonder goals (the first inexplicably labelled scrappy by Sky stooge Chris Coleman) and the under-appreciated Roman Pavlyuchenko scored his 11th under-the-radar strike of the season to give Tottenham a tantalising 3-2 lead in the second half. Unfortunately, we couldn’t quite hold on despite numerous second-half chances and another wonder show from Sandro in midfield, which went over the heads of the Sky commentators.
I don’t subscribe to the opinion that the press are against Tottenham (that’s just paranoia), but for two, odd hours Sky Sports morphed into Wolves TV. Every Wolves foray was greeted with breathless delight. Highlights included Martin Tyler’s moan of disappointment when Wanderers' ‘first 3-3 equaliser’ was disallowed and Coleman’s unerring ability to erase Tottenham’s superiority in possession (56%-44%) and 10 shots on target compared to 4 from his memory. I know a rather incendiary secret about Mr. Coleman, but I will keep my own counsel because everyone is entitled to an off-day, right?
Stearman’s ‘equaliser’ was interesting. Neither Tyler nor fellow cheerleader Coleman noticed referee Halsey immediately pointing for a Spurs free-kick and embarrassingly tried to make their oversight appear like a Halsey late decision. I’ve always rated Halsey and it’s wonderful see him officiating again after his serious health problems. There was a great tribute to former Spurs and Wolves star Dean Richards who sadly died, too young, at 36 last week. But it did seem ironic to me that the Wolves fans applauding Richards’ memory also abused recent cancer survivor Halsey for not siding with their team ('You're not fit to referee' and worse) on several crucial decisions. Humanity only stretches as far as your own team, it seems.
Gomes was perhaps fortunate on the disallowed 'goal' (he undoubtedly flapped), but the Wolves players were trying to rough him up; that they failed to make more significant contact probably reflects on their general lack of co-ordination. Ebanks-Blake certainly appears to own a pair of paper ankles.
The pitch was predictably dismal and I felt Spurs played far better than they were given credit for. It was still an away point gained where Chelsea, Man City and Man Utd have failed to pick up any this season. The return of 'Welsh Wonder' Gareth Bale provided welcome encouragement ahead of Wednesday’s crucial Champions League second leg clash with AC Milan. Another glory. glory night?
Thankfully, Webb’s gleaming dome was nowhere to be seen at Molineux. While Howard was probably enjoying a selection of sliced meats at the Rotherham Harvester, 'less capable stand-in' Mark Halsey failed to send off two Tottenham players, allow a bundled Wolves goal or award a penalty when a ball struck Alan Hutton’s back. We can’t all be Howard, but don't worry, he'll get us in his next game!
Meanwhile, Spurs’ strikers embarked on a veritable goal orgy! Jermain Defoe lamped in two wonder goals (the first inexplicably labelled scrappy by Sky stooge Chris Coleman) and the under-appreciated Roman Pavlyuchenko scored his 11th under-the-radar strike of the season to give Tottenham a tantalising 3-2 lead in the second half. Unfortunately, we couldn’t quite hold on despite numerous second-half chances and another wonder show from Sandro in midfield, which went over the heads of the Sky commentators.
I don’t subscribe to the opinion that the press are against Tottenham (that’s just paranoia), but for two, odd hours Sky Sports morphed into Wolves TV. Every Wolves foray was greeted with breathless delight. Highlights included Martin Tyler’s moan of disappointment when Wanderers' ‘first 3-3 equaliser’ was disallowed and Coleman’s unerring ability to erase Tottenham’s superiority in possession (56%-44%) and 10 shots on target compared to 4 from his memory. I know a rather incendiary secret about Mr. Coleman, but I will keep my own counsel because everyone is entitled to an off-day, right?
Stearman’s ‘equaliser’ was interesting. Neither Tyler nor fellow cheerleader Coleman noticed referee Halsey immediately pointing for a Spurs free-kick and embarrassingly tried to make their oversight appear like a Halsey late decision. I’ve always rated Halsey and it’s wonderful see him officiating again after his serious health problems. There was a great tribute to former Spurs and Wolves star Dean Richards who sadly died, too young, at 36 last week. But it did seem ironic to me that the Wolves fans applauding Richards’ memory also abused recent cancer survivor Halsey for not siding with their team ('You're not fit to referee' and worse) on several crucial decisions. Humanity only stretches as far as your own team, it seems.
Gomes was perhaps fortunate on the disallowed 'goal' (he undoubtedly flapped), but the Wolves players were trying to rough him up; that they failed to make more significant contact probably reflects on their general lack of co-ordination. Ebanks-Blake certainly appears to own a pair of paper ankles.
The pitch was predictably dismal and I felt Spurs played far better than they were given credit for. It was still an away point gained where Chelsea, Man City and Man Utd have failed to pick up any this season. The return of 'Welsh Wonder' Gareth Bale provided welcome encouragement ahead of Wednesday’s crucial Champions League second leg clash with AC Milan. Another glory. glory night?
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Dean Richards: A tribute
It was sadly confirmed today that former Spurs defender Dean Richards had passed away after a long battle with serious illness. He was just 36-years-old.
Dean first sprung to prominence at Bradford City and Wolves before impressing for Glenn Hoddle’s free-flowing Southampton where he looked every inch a future England centre-half.
When Hoddle took over at Spurs he bought Richards for a significant £8.1 million fee, the highest at the time for an uncapped player, and the big defender marked his debut with a goal in that epic 3-5 encounter with Manchester United. Between 2001-2005, Dean made just 73 league appearances in Spurs colours scoring four times. He also featured in five FA Cup and three League Cup ties.
I’d like to recall one of Dean's best performances in a Spurs shirt where he marshalled the Tottenham backline superbly in a 1-0 win at Aston Villa. He punched the air at the final whistle before paying tribute to the celebrating Spurs away support.
Unfortunately, Dean's Tottenham career was blighted by injuries and illness before drawing to a premature close in 2005, but that’s how I’d like to remember him.
Sincere condolences to the Richards family and his loved ones. Next Sunday two of Dean’s former clubs Wolves and Spurs will meet at Molineux where a fitting tribute can be expected.
RIP Dean.
Dean first sprung to prominence at Bradford City and Wolves before impressing for Glenn Hoddle’s free-flowing Southampton where he looked every inch a future England centre-half.
When Hoddle took over at Spurs he bought Richards for a significant £8.1 million fee, the highest at the time for an uncapped player, and the big defender marked his debut with a goal in that epic 3-5 encounter with Manchester United. Between 2001-2005, Dean made just 73 league appearances in Spurs colours scoring four times. He also featured in five FA Cup and three League Cup ties.
I’d like to recall one of Dean's best performances in a Spurs shirt where he marshalled the Tottenham backline superbly in a 1-0 win at Aston Villa. He punched the air at the final whistle before paying tribute to the celebrating Spurs away support.
Unfortunately, Dean's Tottenham career was blighted by injuries and illness before drawing to a premature close in 2005, but that’s how I’d like to remember him.
Sincere condolences to the Richards family and his loved ones. Next Sunday two of Dean’s former clubs Wolves and Spurs will meet at Molineux where a fitting tribute can be expected.
RIP Dean.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
I am glad we lost to Blackpool
No, I’m not. Just trying to get your attention like a podgy Geordie girl in a boob tube during -5 temperatures or every other misleading, lazily-posted football headline on the internet.
It would be easy to be overly negative after a 1-3 defeat to a woefully out-of-form Blackpool, but I won’t fall into that obvious trap. You have to lose well and win well in life. And Spurs have won a lot recently and enjoyed a fair slice of luck here or there. It was probably due.
If you can’t take a defeat and a bit of ill-fortune with good grace then you probably shouldn’t be here and, if you are going to lose to any side, there are worse teams than likeable underdogs Blackpool who play the game in the right spirit and have frequently appeared luckless this season.
I am sure there are people on Twitter, Spurs messageboards and football call-ins petitioning for Redknapp’s sacking, British jobs for British workers and the return of capital punishment. We’ll leave them to it. If you follow Spurs for easy victories, textbook demolitions, bragging rights - the pub football sofa experience complete with replica shirt sans match ticket - this is probably the wrong gig for you. But remember it’s still a good gig.
I was unable (thankfully) to make it to Bloomfield Road tonight, but I was – as ever – entirely bemused by the BBC website’s slapdash coverage of the match. Only at the weekend they claimed AGAIN that a Crawley win over Manchester United would make them the first non-league side EVER to make the quarter-finals of the FA Cup. I reminded them that Spurs won the cup in 1901 as a non-league side. Did they correct this error? Did they fuck. Your average cokehead has less arrogance. I can only assume they are on something a bit stronger. Roll on the government cuts.
Intriguingly, Blackpool were one-nil up but had no attempts on target, according to the stats on the BBC website. A fascinating insight into statistical accuracy. The half-time report said how much Blackpool had ridden their luck, but were yet somehow good value for a 2-0 half-time lead. If this makes sense to you, I look forward to your appearance on ‘The Jeremy Kyle Show’ tomorrow. We await with interest the results of your obese wife’s lie detector test.
Unfortunately, the true criminal of Spurs season is rapidly shaping into Jermain Defoe. JD has less of a kick than his alcoholic namesake. Thirteen league games without a goal in a season admittedly disrupted by injury and suspension. Maybe a new chant of “Jermain Defoe, you owe us a goal” would be appropriate. I hoped being surrounded by orange-chested individuals might have fired his enthusiasm, but sadly no.
It’s not too late for Defoe to fire us into the Champions League next season, but it is certainly overdue.
It would be easy to be overly negative after a 1-3 defeat to a woefully out-of-form Blackpool, but I won’t fall into that obvious trap. You have to lose well and win well in life. And Spurs have won a lot recently and enjoyed a fair slice of luck here or there. It was probably due.
If you can’t take a defeat and a bit of ill-fortune with good grace then you probably shouldn’t be here and, if you are going to lose to any side, there are worse teams than likeable underdogs Blackpool who play the game in the right spirit and have frequently appeared luckless this season.
I am sure there are people on Twitter, Spurs messageboards and football call-ins petitioning for Redknapp’s sacking, British jobs for British workers and the return of capital punishment. We’ll leave them to it. If you follow Spurs for easy victories, textbook demolitions, bragging rights - the pub football sofa experience complete with replica shirt sans match ticket - this is probably the wrong gig for you. But remember it’s still a good gig.
I was unable (thankfully) to make it to Bloomfield Road tonight, but I was – as ever – entirely bemused by the BBC website’s slapdash coverage of the match. Only at the weekend they claimed AGAIN that a Crawley win over Manchester United would make them the first non-league side EVER to make the quarter-finals of the FA Cup. I reminded them that Spurs won the cup in 1901 as a non-league side. Did they correct this error? Did they fuck. Your average cokehead has less arrogance. I can only assume they are on something a bit stronger. Roll on the government cuts.
Intriguingly, Blackpool were one-nil up but had no attempts on target, according to the stats on the BBC website. A fascinating insight into statistical accuracy. The half-time report said how much Blackpool had ridden their luck, but were yet somehow good value for a 2-0 half-time lead. If this makes sense to you, I look forward to your appearance on ‘The Jeremy Kyle Show’ tomorrow. We await with interest the results of your obese wife’s lie detector test.
Unfortunately, the true criminal of Spurs season is rapidly shaping into Jermain Defoe. JD has less of a kick than his alcoholic namesake. Thirteen league games without a goal in a season admittedly disrupted by injury and suspension. Maybe a new chant of “Jermain Defoe, you owe us a goal” would be appropriate. I hoped being surrounded by orange-chested individuals might have fired his enthusiasm, but sadly no.
It’s not too late for Defoe to fire us into the Champions League next season, but it is certainly overdue.
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