We were in our places a few minutes earlier than usual, standing not sitting, hopping around not so much to stave off the bitter cold, more in excited anticipation. Even the veterans haven't seen anything like this.

The players had a prematch kickabout, the mascot's nervous pride shone through as they found a hero to play with, but all eyes were on the tunnel.

The public are comfortable with Harry Redknapp. His rumpled, down-to-earth persona harks back to a bygone era before football became a commercial monster, evoking soft fuzzy Sunday evening television images of a time when society was less complicated and life was better. With Harry, like him or not, you know where you are.

Being slightly fearful of numbers, I'm not sure how the old recipe for success of 'win at home and draw away' stands up in modern times, now we have this new-fangled three points for a win, but right now it will do for me. As against Man City, against the Pool we stood up to the considerable pressure exerted by our rivals near the top of the league, emerging with great credit and in this case a point too.

A couple of years ago Absolute Radio e-mailed to ask if I would appear on the first edition of their new Saturday afternoon football show. It was new, exciting and interactive. Ian Wright in the chair, he wanted a sparky show with comment and bite. Spurs were playing and they wanted to hear from the fans.

When one of your own is in trouble, you reach out a helping hand. Despite his achievements, Harry Redknapp has never found a place in the hearts of the Spurs faithful. Last night it was more than an outstretched arm for support. No, he was firmly clasped to our bosom to feel safe and warm. We stroked his hair and soothed, "There, there.

Even my wife wondered why on earth Spurs were playing football on a Friday. By the end of the match I knew exactly what she meant. As it was ESPN, perhaps Spurs prepared for the Saturday evening game, because they certainly weren't ready for this one.

This was dire, as disorganised as Harry's tax return.

Three days on, that stamp is still the major talking point in football, dominating the backpages and sports leads. Not that it was a stamp, of course. Poor Mario has been cruelly victimised by referees. I realise English isn't his first language but he really has to get to grips with what 'victimised' actually means, as opposed to ‘stay on the pitch and score the crucial winning goal that could lead to the league title'.

So many times he's saved us. The forward bursts through, draws back the hammer and pulls the trigger, eyes not on the ball but on the expectant net only to find that in a whirl the object of his desire has disappeared, swept away by the sweetest of tackles. No bone or muscle, it's the timing that has defeated him.

Winning ugly is something we're all familiar with, despite the doubts expressed in this blog over the years that's an over-used euphemism for a lousy performance that we've got away with. Call it resilience or luck if you like, one reason for Spurs' success in this time is our improved ability to sneak a win when we are off-colour.

Like the child whose parents have surreptitiously removed their much-loved comfort blanket in the night, we woke this morning missing the precious consolation of a game in hand, and soon discovered that we can manage perfectly well without it. For some it provided a welcome safety net, for others the promise of future delights.

It's January 2022. The world has changed massively over the last decade but one thing never alters A Question of Sport is still going, although this once proud flagship of BBC peak-time is now on BBC3 at 2.30 am. Sue Barker still presides over proceedings. Like Miss Haversham, she clings to the trappings of faded grandeur, her immaculate twin-set grimy and worn on the seams, her hair as immovable as always but clouds of dust fly up into the studio lights as she asks the next question.

Everybody yearns to be up there, to be a contender. Yet we're still puzzling over what success feels like. Here's another side of it, being the envy of other fans. Top four, playing dazzling football. It won't be long before the negative coverage begins. Players who have been doing well for an entire season will be picked on by pundits after a single poor performance, or young men playing out of their skin will fail to be at the top of their game for one of their 50 or so performances and people will pick holes.

It was all a bit of a rush. Fancy letting family stuff get in the way of football. What on earth is happening to me? Anyone would think it's Christmas or something.

So when I switched on the TV it took me a moment to get my bearings. First thing top left hand corner, read it three times just to make sure and remember to breathe.

Everybody I talked to said the same thing – we were up for it like no other game in recent memory. Not just a derby, this one has become more sour over the last few years. There's a bitter edge to it, compared with the intense but long-standing rivalry with the Arsen*l, heightened by the welcome but unusual sensation of being third and favourites.

The Sunderland fan on the train has low expectations but he's loyal and a long way from home on a cold Sunday afternoon. Spurs have more points, better players and better prospects but he has his devotion to his club, a precious commodity these days for any any fan as far as I'm concerned, so he expresses this in the time-honoured fashion: 'Where were you when you were s**t?