Gareth Bale rescued Spurs with two stunning free-kicks that secured a precious lead to take to Lyon, just when the European dream was fading away. May as well cut out the flab, trim the fat, cut out the middle man and just give him the ball. He’s going to sort it one way or another.  Might as well keep the same headline for every piece until the end of the season. He scores all the goals and there’s danger in the air each time he touches the ball.  It’s magic, thrilling out of the seat stuff. Polish every second he’s on the ball, wrap it in scented tissue and tuck it away in the memory bank for when you are old and grey.

Yet Bale threw a lifeline into a dark, dank hole that he helped to dig. He wasn’t alone, of course. Lyon are a tough, well-drilled side. Bale and his team-mates ran into a battle-hardened Champions League outfit and by the end had run out of ideas. It’s foolish to level the criticism that we would be nothing without Bale – we have him, he’s there, same as every great player lifts the whole side. However, last night’s uninspired effort confirmed the problems we have in keeping the ball and up front, which could cost us dear as the season reaches a climax.

A lead for a tough second leg was more than looked likely for much of the second half. I’m grateful but it does not fully obscure ineffectual efforts again from Dempsey and Adebayor, who is now generating ironic cheers from the East Stand when he wins a header. Parker is properly fit again but his forward passing generates nothing.

Serenaded throughout by a band of itinerant balladeers in the Park Lane, this was a Valentine’s day with my one true love. The lights were a bit bright, hardly the sort of secluded atmosphere you need for romance. Bit heavy on the dimmer switch.

But romance so often smacks headfirst into reality and comes off second best.  A decent crowd, considering the inflated ticket prices, and the whiff of a glory glory night dissolved into the reality of these first-leg games in Europe, one that was a long way from the final even though we are in the middle of February. The game was like an air-bed with a tiny hole. It looks solid but it’s slowly deflating before our very eyes. Play well and it’s never truly satisfying because there’s another game to go, another chance to cock it up. Play poorly and there’s opportunity for redemption. Either way, there’s something empty about a first leg tie. Bit like all my Valentine’s Days, really….

It took a while but we got going. Lennon and Walker combined superbly down the right. Beating the full-back this way and that or a through ball inside him, their pace was unstoppable. More please. Demebelehad a good first half too. Even though I don’t like him so deep, he had enough room to turn defence into attack. One throughball, cutting and quick, set up Adebayor but he missed the chance.

Finally, down he right again, Bale with an open goal, unmarked, he misses. Unbelieveable for Superboy under any circumstances, but now the lead shield had come off the container of green kryptonite that I am convinced lies buried beneath the penalty spot.

No matter. A free-kick, ridiculously far out even for him, but it swerves this way and that, sideways away from the keeper then down into the corner of the net. Bale has changed his technique in the last month or so. He no longer gives it sidespin and curl with the inside of his left foot but rather strikes it cleanly and lets the ball do its work. The swerve sets the keeper in one direction so a touch the other way and he has to change balance as well as direction.

Bale did not have a good game, all round. He has so much at his disposal, can do so many things, so many options, that it was as if he had too many choices that he delayed and deliberated, or tried something too flash. The simple choice is often the best.

Second half and we seldom got going. Lyon limited the space for Dembele and on our right. We were therefore less effective although I would not have substituted Lennon who had another good game. Lyon’s 4-3-3 can turn defence into attack quickly and once they had equalised with another in this game of stunners, they fell back and we were getting nowhere until the injury time winner. As above but no less wonderous. The keeper is still dizzy from watching the flight of the ball.

Bloggers are free and easy with words. We churn them out like manic 5 year-olds with their first Playdoh set, misshapen splurges of gloop strewn all around, ideas left incomprehensible to those who look on with tolerance and, sometimes, patience, but clear in our heads as we rush on to next one. 

Words deserve more care. Some must be cherished, lovingly wrapped in soft tissuepaper and stored away for special occasions only, so that when they appear, they dazzle and amaze with their shimmering brightness.

Here’s one I’ve unwrapped because the time is right. It’s simple impact has been long since mired in a quicksand of over-use and hyperbole, but for some it has meaning still. ‘Great’ carries not only the heft of significance but in a mere five letters includes also a sense of perspective, because it compares something with others around it and with examples from the past. It’s a mighty word, not to be used lightly. To me, Gareth Bale is a great Tottenham Hotspur footballer.

The greats have two things that set them apart. One is that they possess a distinctive signature, something in the way that they perform the same tasks as their professionals that remains unique. Hoddle’s long pass, stroked rather than kicked with precision and spin, backspin to hold it up into a striker’s stride or top to let it roll on invitingly into space. Gascoigne’s burst, arms out, head down, sucking a gaggle of defenders into thinking they could get him before emerging with the ball at his feet. Greaves’ effortless glide across the turf, the ball always two or three feet from his foot, the pass into the net. 

Shut your eyes and see Bale at top speed, perfect control again but this time with pace, power and muscle. He can trap a ball, shoot from range or in the box, pepper the keeper with long shots or slide one past desperate outstretched fingers to nudge it inside the far post, but in 45 years I’ve never seen a six foot 13 stone player run like that with a football at his feet.

The other unique quality that marks out the great ones is their enduring capacity to astonish. Even if you have seen it all before, this run, this pass, this shot is a thing of wonder that leaves the spectator dumb with awe. When Bale gets the ball, I’ve discovered that I no longer cheer encouragement – why would I, he doesn’t need my help. Instead, I gawp like a lovestruck teenager. He runs, my mouth falls open and I hold my breath, I am drawn from my seat by some mysterious force. Time restarts when the move is over.

In an age when the average is given preposterously inflated status, when mundane is the new top class, Bale continues to amaze. At Spurs we are privileged to see him blossom into a wonderful footballer coveted worldwide. I bore my kids with context, with stories of heroes and magnificent occasions from Tottenham’s past. I’m so delighted they have a player whose career they have seen from its awkward beginnings and who now weaves tales they can spin for their children and grandchildren. An honour and a privilege to see him play. Enjoy every moment, I beg you – this doesn’t happen very often.

Yesterday Bale won the match with two very different goals and could have scored two more. From a starting position on the left, he came inside more as the match went on as it became clear that Spurs needed some inspiration to lift the spirits as well as the tempo. Beforehand there was talk of him playing as a striker. It’s tempting as right now, you feel he can succeed at anything he likes. However, he needs a few yards to get going – defenders would love it if he had his back to the goal and pace was taken out of the equation – so that free role is perfect. 

Over the last few games, Spurs have been busy but lack a cutting edge. Bale makes the difference, versus Norwich, West Brom and now Newcastle. In a bright opening, he burst down the left and Dempsey should have touched in his perfect low cross as it skimmed along the six yard line. Then a free kick after Dempsey’s good turn was cut down by Colloncini. In a footnote, Spurs had men spare at the far post but a cross was never an option. We no longer joke about Spurs and free-kicks. Over the wall and down again, enough to bounce before it plopped into the corner.

The game was bookended by decent spells at the beginning and end. In between, we struggled to impose ourselves. Going a goal up after five minutes paved the way for some lovely flowing football with everyone involved but gradually Newcastle came back into it. Last week I suggested that with a striker shortage, we could always tighten up at the back even though ‘one nil to the Tottenham’ doesn’t have much of a ring to it. The suggestion seems reasonable and we played two defensive midfielders in Parker and Dembele. While Parker was there, Dembele is wasted in that role. Three times we left acres in front of the back four. Cisse missed with a header, unmarked as Caulker and Naughton looked on when they should have done much more, then no closing down and an equaliser. 

Newcastle have a strong midfield that at the moment lacks the capacity to control a game but they were always dangerous in bursts and kept Spurs quiet for the rest of the half. In the second we had more of the territory and I can recall Lloris making only one real save, an important one late on at Ameobi’s feet. Meanwhile we had the ball without making much of an impact. Dempsey was poor up front, showing his uncertainty in that role by dumping his stock in trade, the awareness and one-twos at the edge of the box, in favour of three long shots when others were much better placed. Holtby impressed in an advanced role but was wasted by being moved wide left in a reshuffle at the start of the second half. Predictably the game passed him by and he was withdrawn in favour of Adebayor. Parker drove on from the back but exercised poor judgement and accuracy with his forward passing. Lennon fizzed and came back to help out the defence.

Enter Bale. Just when it seemed the deadlock would not be broken, he seized on a mere moment’s hesitation between the Newcastle centre halves. At his feet, an innocuous bouncing ball in the middle suddenly became a charge on goal. This wasn’t a mere lunge to a high ball. He got there first and controlled the ball. A gallop, three touches, the fourth slid the ball home.

We became a different side. Bouncing around now, we protected the lead well. Dembele got into the match and Dawson came into his own, dominating his area to close out the match. Bale’s athletic long shot was touched over gymnastically by Krul, then the Welshman put the easiest chance of them all over the bar from close in. 

So not entirely convincing but we remain four points clear in fourth, although Arsenal are ominously coming into form and Chelsea can never be written off with talent such as theirs. The pressure will increase with every game and we will have to play much better when the key battles versus our main rivals come along. Time to get Adebayor motivated – he is key – and find the best midfield shape. In the meantime, relish what we have. Gareth Bale is 23 years old.

Of the many matters of concern for Spurs this week, most worrying is how easily Warnock and now the lovely Chrissie Hughton have outsmarted our Andre tactically. Yesterday it was less about the lack of a striker or even Dembele’s shameful admission that the players could not get motivated for the FA Cup, and more about our inability to handle Norwich in the first half. In the end, Tottenham gradually cranked it up to some semblance of our best style and were rescued by a individual Bale goal that if it had been scored in El Clasico, a rival attraction on TV, would have been enough to secure Sky Sport’s future as people rushed to renew their subscriptions.

A run of good games before and after Christmas saw Spurs settling into a stylish, easy rhythm, by no means the finished product but a work of considerable progress. This past week has shown that we’re not quite as good as we would like to be. Last night, we set up with Defoe and Dempsey up front, Lennon and Bale wide and the full-backs raring to go. Norwich refused to play ball, or rather refused to let us have it. All this width left space in the middle. It was not just hard running and diligent pressing, they knew where to run too. Their five outnumbered us in midfield, denying Bale and Lennon the space to build momentum and then releasing runners into the gaps between our centre-halves and full-backs.

Of the two sides it was Norwich who recovered best from the indignity of FA Cup defeat. At the back, it just like old times for Spurs. As Norwich attacked, the defenders disappeared. They must have been there somewhere but I’m not sure exactly what they were up to. Norwich stretched them out of shape once too often. They had time first to cross the ball, then knock it back, a couple more players had the time for an unchallenged touch in the box before they scored a deserved opening goal.

This move marked the return of another Spurs old favourite. It all began because Dempsey lost the ball in their half. We just could not keep hold of the ball for any length of time. This match showed again the value of possession in the modern game. Without playing particularly well in the second half, we at least kept the ball better. This meant Norwich were less of a threat and allowed us to push more men forward.

The chances came eventually through erosion rather than sustained pressure. Walker came from deep, Bale had the freedom to move across the line but spent much of the half centrally.

To be fair to Villas-Boas, he adapted our tactics to make this happen but it was largely unconvincing, our efforts foundering against the massed ranks of the Norwich defence who were marshaled expertly. You sensed they were used to this sort of thing. We didn’t make much of an impression. Parker had a better second half, fetching and carrying, trying to get the pass and move going but he missed more than his share of simple passes in key areas. Dempsey’s movement was again interesting but he saw little of the ball, as did Lennon. Most disappointing was Dembele, a fine player whose combination of strength and touch is crucial to a Spurs team lacking creativity in the middle but he’s in the middle of an anonymous patch. It really shows on the whole team. Defoe missed the few chances that came his way, shooting late on when he could have more profitably passed.

Bale to the rescue. Possession can be used to draw out a packed defence. Play it around, front and back, side to side, and eventually a gap will appear. Just as it seemed we could not exploit this, Norwich had to come out because they had men up for a set piece. We found Bale inside our half. Several defenders back but enough room to get up a head of steam. He charged 40 yards upfield, at pace, with the ball under perfect control, shrugging off physical challenges as well as shredding the defence before a perfect shot from the edge of the area to the keeper’s right. I’m determined to keep saying this – I’ve never, ever seen a player like this, this big, this powerful with his touch. A remarkable goal.

We could have pinched the winner as, transformed, we swarmed forward but that would have been harsh on Norwich. Holtby appeared with an assured cameo as substitute. He certainly doesn’t lack confidence. Straight away he’s calling for the ball and suggesting to team-mates where they might move to. He seemed to be more in tune with what was going on around him than half the Spurs team. Very promising. It was also noteworthy as possibly the first time in Premier League history that a sub has come onto the pitch holding a handful of yellow post-its, which he then solemnly handed out to Parker and a couple of others. Don’t forget to pick up some milk on the way home, lads. Or maybe it was, ‘QPR for you, Fulham for you..’

Right, heads down, it’s ‘Levy get out your BACS transfer’ day. I will do everything possible to avoid it. And fail. See you on the other side.