A curious one, this. Back in the days of yore, when Luka Modric limped off against Birmingham, I
don't think anyone foresaw things panning out quite this way. Robbie Keane undroppable, wingers
treated like lepers, long-ball upon long-ball. We're muddling through, but the sooner both the
Croatian genius and Lennon return, the better.
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Are we a club in crisis? While I hate to disappoint the doom-mongers and mischievous press-men,
it is a little too hasty to go down that route just yet.
Come the full-time whistle we ought to have a clearer idea of where we stand. Naturally, this
being White Hart Lane, moderation is not welcome.
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Normally the points in this fixture are rather an irrelevance, but this time there is more at
stake than just bragging rights. The sides go into the game separated only by goal difference, and
the three points up for grabs could prove crucial come May. Ultimately, league position is the
gauge, and this season for a change we have a realistic chance of finishing above l'Arse.
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We're great when we're winning. Opponents are forced to push forward, and we duly pick them off
on the break, with the clinical precision of a trained sniper (until Keane starts stumbling over
his own feet). We have the players, including those on the fringes of the squad, to counter with
pace and inventiveness, on top of which it makes for a cracking spectacle.
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If you enjoy those 15 half-time minutes when the subs come trotting out and half-heartedly ping
the ball around, you'll love tonight. Pav, Bentley, Hutton and Bale are all in line to start, as
‘Arry rings the changes with half an eye (in a manner of speaking) on Saturday's game.
League or Cups?
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A few weeks ago we hit Burnley for five despite not playing particularly well; this time our
scratchy performance did not have a five-goal veil to mask it.
Bravo Stoke
Stoke, labouring under the misapprehension that cracks would appear in the sky and the
apocalypse hasten if they let the ball ever come into contact with grass, showed precious little
attacking intent until we were down to ten men.
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Believe it or not, win this by four goals and we'll be top of the table, albeit until Chelski
conclude their evening game. Try informing your nearest Spurs-supporting chum of this fact, and the
chances are that you will be greeted with little more than a nod of approval and a healthy dose of
perspective.
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Not so much a game of two halves as a game of two thirds and a third third. We seemed to be
cruising serenely after an hour or so – but then that wouldn't be the Tottenham way, would it?
Cue a wild thump of the self-destruct button, the halving of our lead and a daft sending off. The
three points were eventually achieved in slightly nerve-jangling, harum-scarum style.
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I miss Ledley. Some games we're so rampant going forward that he is barely needed at the back,
but on days like yesterday we cry out for someone to hold things together and be in the right place
– as well as dealing with any aerial bullying meted out by opposition forwards. The lack of a
commander-in-chief at the back was notable in the first half in which Spurs players competed
earnestly with each other to be the most obliging to our hosts.
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Still reeling from the shock revelation that the word "gullible" had been removed from the
dictionary, we at AANP Towers were sent scrambling to our official panic stations yesterday as news
of ‘Arry's alleged departure spread like wildfire. The panic button was hit, the lights flashed
and the stern lady kept announcing "This is not a drill".
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Curiously, our most emphatic win in recent years was achieved without us ever really hitting top
gear. There were some moments at the end of the first half when we played true champagne football,
and Defoe might have finished off a couple of moves so pleasing on the eye they ought to have been
put on canvass and stuck in a gallery.
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Two consecutive defeats it may be, but even the most pessimistic amongst us have struggled to
make a convincing case for this being a crisis. Man Utd and Chelski are the best two teams in the
country, and amongst the best handful in Europe. Losing to them is not exactly to be welcomed, but
neither is it a cause for alarm.
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If you want to save yourself time you might as well just cast your mind back to the first round
tie away to Doncaster – five more goals, away from home, and despite the occasional early scare
the gulf in class eventually told. Deja-vu all over again. It's not the Tottenham I grew
up with I tell ye.
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Well we can call off the missing person's search. Head down to Deepdale tonight and you're
likely to be treated to rare glimpses of Giovani and David Bentley, last seen being surreptitiously
airbrushed into the background as 'Arry's favourites went through their pre-match warm-ups. There
has been some clamour for Giovani's inclusion in recent weeks, and after the two woeful attempts by
'Arry to compensate for the absence of Modric, it would really warm the cockles tonight to see the
Mexican put in a virtuoso performance on the left.
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And it had all begun quite encouragingly. Sitting back away from home and soaking up the
pressure just isn't the Tottenham way, so right from the off we took the game to that lot, giving
as good as we got in the first half. Jenas, Hudd and Palacios weren't far off with their long-range
efforts, and there was a gorgeous through-ball from Sergeant Wilson to free up Defoe in the early
stages.
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No-one does fickle quite like we do at Tottenham, yet despite this, the reaction to last week's
defeat has by and large retained a sense of perspective. 12 points from 5 games still represents a
ruddy good start to proceedings, and with forthcoming fixtures involving Burnley, Bolton,
Portsmouth and Stoke we ought to be chugging along nicely by the time the clocks go back.
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Before beginning the gruesome business of the post-mortem I think it's worth doffing my cap
towards Man Utd – they were a quality act yesterday. I demonstrated in my preview that
mathematics is hardly the academic subject of choice at AANP Towers, but nevertheless it really did
seem that being reduced to 10 men made them play as if they had 12.
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Curses upon the international break. I guess that now we will never know, but I am convinced
that if the season had continued uninterrupted by this pesky World Cup business right through until
May, such was our momentum we would actually have won literally every one of our 38 Premiership
games. Honest.
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I feel like Mr Pink after the dust settles in that brief, but oh-so-memorable shoot-out. I'll
just tip-toe around the bloody mess, pick up the case full of loot and hot-foot it out of here.
The bloody mess is Bentley to Man City, Petrov the other way, David James splattered all over
the place, and even Anton Ferdinand, sitting lifelessly on a chair minus an ear.
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Well that's why it's called All Action, No Plot.
Away for one little weekend break, in the land of Erik Edman (note to eligible bachelors the
world over – do Stockholm. No ifs, no buts – do Stockholm) and 48 hours later I return to find
that all hell seems to have broken loose at White Hart Lane.
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Having started this season like a runaway train, we now go into a game at home to Birmingham
demanding victory. Not a bad thing I suppose, although I do try to remind myself that
sooner or later we will be brought unceremoniously back down to earth.
Points of
Debate
The midfield picks itself, as does the back-four barring injuries; but the striking pair will,
as ever, stoke up some debate.
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We would have settled for a win by hook or by crook or by penalties, but another five-goal salvo
does no harm. For some curious reason, I also beam with a vaguely paternal sort of pride at the
fact that five different names were scrawled across the scoresheet. It's strangely wholesome.
It all went smoothly enough in the end, although that might have been a different story had
Carlo Cudicini not been alert and sprightly from the off.
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Well truth be told I've found this all a little unsettling so far. Top of the league, three wins
in three - and looking good value for it too. This is not the Tottenham I grew up with. The
Tottenham I know and love would consistently let me down. Capitulate from positions of seeming
invulnerability.
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Good grief, what's come over them? The stylish win at home to Liverpool was in keeping with the
glory-glory Tottenham tradition, the demolition of Hull an all-action romp - but getting bogged
down in a scrap and emerging victorious? I plan to catch this, pop it in a jar and charge
a tenner for people to come marvel at it.
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A win against a top-four team; a win away in a potential banana-skin of a game against
relegation fodder; now a London derby - one way or another we are certainly having our credentials
rigorously tested in these early days.
I desperately hope we win tomorrow. This has nothing to do with the whole issue of enmity with
West Ham - as I have previously confessed, I am neither here nor there on that issue.
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Well first up I think it's only right to indulge in a moment of smugness from this lofty perch
atop the country's pile. While I don't think any of us are daft enough to make fanciful predictions
after four days of the season, the cockerel is crowing, and the morning-after smugness in the
office has proved particularly gratifying.
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It's been a pleasant few days, as we've all had ample opportunity to bask in the warm afterglow
of the well-deserved win over Liverpool. It has also been pleasing to note that, despite this, a
healthy sense of perspective has been retained. Most reasonable souls have avoided the temptation
to conclude from the win against a top-four team that we're just about nailed on for the title.
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Cracking stuff. Good performances all round, three well-deserved points in the bag, lots of
wholesome goodness to report – all in all a most pleasant jamboree in the sun.
Top Marks For Hunger and Intent
Lighting a pipe, contentedly sipping on a bourbon and stepping back to deliver verdicts on the
game as a whole, we at AANP Towers have been murmuring appreciatively at the general mentality of
the Tottenham team today.
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The deluded pre-season optimism of Spurs fans is a quintessential part of the British summer, up
there alongside heroic failure at Wimbledon and an English batting collapse. Like moths to a flame
we just can't seem to help ourselves banging on each summer about making the top four.
Typically the wafer-thin bases for this argument are a fairly unnecessary spending spree;
rampant (but entirely irrelevant) pre-season form; and the rather unscientific assumption, more
commonly found in six year-olds, that if you repeat a lie often enough you can start to believe
that it's actually true!
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So, it's once more unto the breach, for the new season is upon us. The friendlies are done,
fantasy league teams picked – all that's left is for AANP Towers to rustle up a list of top ten
aims for season 2009-10, and then we can get cracking...
1. European Qualification
Top six, or a trophy.
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Bassong, eh? Well first up, if you're looking for an in-depth
Strengths-Weakness-Opportunities-Threats analysis of the chap, then look elsewhere. We at
AANP Towers spent most of last season watching Spurs, rather than Newcastle, which I would suggest
is a fairly pardonable offence.
Word on the street is that he is quite handy.
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Three spaces left, but still a number of contenders for the list of 20 Spurs Cult Heroes. Still
looking for the players who achieved legendary status amongst us fans for what they did at the club
– so put forward your argument for (or indeed against) the inclusion of any of these:
Pat Jennings, John White, Alfie Conn, Bill Brown, Sandy Brown, Cyril Knowles, Ralph Coates, Gary
Lineker, Steffen Freund, Teddy Sheringham.
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So, after several weeks in which dust has gathered and tumbleweed idly rolled around White Hart
Lane, the last seven days have seen a welcome return to complete all-action-no-plot madness at
Spurs, with Darren Bent's glorious rant, a spell behind bars for Jermain Defoe, a big-money signing
and even a trophy.
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No transfers. Not even any rumours. And this following a record number of clean sheets at home,
and a seemingly endless run of one-nil wins. "All action"? Really?
Once again there is nothing to report from the Lane, so I'm just going to ramble away a little
stream of consciousness - by all means duck out now and go youtube a Michael Jackson song or
something.
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No transfers. Not even any rumours. And this following a record number of clean sheets at home,
and a seemingly endless run of one-nil wins. "All action"? Really?
Once again there is nothing to report from the Lane, so I'm just going to ramble away a little
stream of consciousness - by all means duck out now and go youtube a Michael Jackson song or
something.
Click to continue reading...
