Nine points, eight goals and fourth place. More than that, belief. The belief that comes only from winning. Beating the Whammers convincingly and brushing aside Fulham’s challenge on Saturday, a supposedly difficult place to go. Sandwiched in between, a contrast. A gutsy backs against the wall defensive display, we hold on where previous Tottenham teams would have crumbled. Andre Villas-Boas’ Spurs have made an emphatic statement of intent this week.

As the drama unfolds, three different characters fight to find their true role. One has become a star, another a supporting character, the third a bit-part player desperate to show he’s worth time in the spotlight.

Jermaine Defoe is benefitting not just from playing regularly but knowing he will play regularly. He strikes me as a player who wants to succeed as an individual and who wants to prove himself despite his achievements in the league and his international caps. He’s only truly happy when the team have won and he’s scored. Not a criticism – on the contrary, all great strikers are both hungry and selfish. It has meant that he’s tried too hard in the past to make an impression.

There’s a sense he’s still the little kid in the class, always needing to prove himself. The drive to over-compensate led in the last few seasons to a great showreel with goals pinging in from outside the box but we fans saw the out-takes too. Cannonballs high over the bar or into the bodies of defenders stood right in front of him, as if he hadn’t noticed them such was his desperation to score.

He wants to be wanted, don’t we all, and he knows now he is important at Spurs. Redknapp made him welcome and dutifully JD followed him around but as it turned out his so-called mentor wasn’t always there for him. Arm round the shoulder is good for the cameras but if you don’t play him, that’s what he really thinks of you. That hurts.

Consider this from Friday’s Guardian: JD asked, should I stay or should I go? Villas-Boas replied, stay but more than that, I want you, I want you to play.

“Away from football, as a person, he is a top guy, a really nice guy. After every session he will come into the changing room or treatment room and go to every player to see if you are OK. ‘How do you feel? How’s your legs?’ General chit chat. He will do it with every player, every day,” he explains. “Even when I was away with England he will send me a message sometimes – ‘Good luck. How’s the game?’ Stuff like that.”

People in all walks of life are motivated by all sorts of things, but what matters most is what those around you think. Andre, the Andre that we were told can’t handle players, knows that. And Defoe has repaid him. At 30 he’s finally matured. Confident in his own ability and place in the team, he’s letting his talent do the talking. He times the runs to perfection rather than keeping the linesman busy. Sharp and alert in the box, he moves easily into the channels and makes opportunities rather than waiting for them to happen. His finishing is smooth and controlled. I won’t go so far as to say he’s waiting patiently as he’s constantly moaning, deeply perplexed and affronted if the ball isn’t always played to him in the box. But there’s a different air about him under Villas-Boas.

On Saturday he had few chances, indeed few touches, but took two superbly, fully exploiting the gaps in the Fulham defence created by their need to respond to Sandro’s long-range effort that opened up the game.

Stars are nothing without a good script and supporting character actors to feed them the lines. Clint Dempsey joined Spurs in search of the limelight before his career came to a close. All afternoon his former fans reminded him he might have made a mistake and until recently, many Spurs supporters thought the same. More than many, Dempsey needs direction. He can make things happen but only once he’s been given the ball. He’s not lazy and works hard for the team but he’s at his best finding space, operating in the murky haze between the back four and midfield. To score or set one up – he can do both – he needs the ball. More than one or two touches and he’s lost. More than most, he has to know where his team-mates are and they know where he should be.

This week, three decent performances and two assists, both balls made to appear effortless in their precision, one for Bale, one for Defoe. He may yearn for the top billing he had at the Cottage but for the moment he must bide his time and settle for being settled. To be part of the team. It’s a good way to be and he’s learning fast.

So that leaves one misfit from the summer signings. Gylfi Sigurdsson has yet to hit his mark, often wandering aimlessly in the background in search of direction as he too takes his shot at the big time. On Saturday he came onto the stage as substitute and ran hard to across the pitch and up and down, defending from the front.  Then, I don’t want to make too much of a single moment, he effortlessly set up Defoe with an economical, calm move in the box. Right place, looks easy but it’s not. A touch and a pass, looks easy but isn’t. He has stopped being invisible. We will need him in Bale’s absence.

And these players are playing, this team are playing, because their director is getting his message across. Afterwards Villas-Boas had the eager expectant look of a modest schoolboy at Prize Day. More challenges ahead, no doubt about it, but I hope he enjoyed his weekend. He deserves it.

Spurs triumphed in a pulsating night at the Lane, scoring early and then withstanding a thorough going over in the second half from a rejuvenated and rampant Liverpool side. This was a full body search but after examining every nook and cranny, the Reds failed to find what they were looking for. Thrilling attacking football and redoubtable defence from two sides on top form made this a totally absorbing encounter that filled the senses.

I have this particular thing about football at the moment. I never used to have things but it comes with getting older, although if I start ranting about how it was better in the old days and policemen are getting younger, shoot me why don’t you. My thing is that I’m fed up with people moaning about football. There’s a lot wrong with the game: ludicrous prices preventing new generations from coming to grounds, the way clubs treat fans so poorly alienates their loyal support, the demands of TV, inflated expectations from fans and clubs alike, TV coverage. I fully understand why this lot puts people off and all these issues must be addressed.

Without minimising their significance for a single second, all I’d say is that all of this takes place off the pitch. On it, where things really count, football remains rich entertainment and compelling drama. Last night was a fabulous example. Both sides refused to compromise, constantly inventive and compulsively creative. Hammer and tongs for 90 minutes, there was barely time to draw breath. It had everything – pace and power, skill and dexterity under supreme pressure, mistakes and comedy, plus a couple of controversial decisions. Both sets of players and their managers should be warmly congratulated for delivering a marvellous match. Both teams wanted to remain true to their values and do it the right way.

For Tottenham, two excellent wins in four days proves we are making progress on the pitch as well as up the table. Last night, it was not all plain sailing. We gave the ball away far too frequently in the first half and sat back too much in the second. However, we were a team. The players’ confidence and comfort within the system is growing by the match. All over the pitch the combination and support play is improving. They know what they should be doing and where they should be, and, even more importantly, what their team-mates should be doing and where they should be. In two interviews over the weekend, Dempsey and Bale both referred to how meticulous the manager is and how his ideas are getting through. Last night they all gave everything so team spirit is high. Villas-Boas was the last to leave the pitch, departing only after he had thanked each one of his warriors. In both these matches we played for 90 minutes whereas until now we performed in patches. And still we are missing several of our best men.

Tottenham began at the high tempo that suits us and we launched Gareth Bale at the Liverpool defence. This young man is a world class attacker. Relish, enjoy and remember as much as you can, because nobody does it like Bale does it. The title of Welsh Wizard has already been bestowed on another Spurs wide man, Cliff Jones, but our Gareth deserves massive acclaim.

Foolishly Liverpool expected to cope without covering the full-back. Bale at full tilt is virtually unstoppable. Repeatedly he charged towards the hapless defenders, pausing only to bewilder Reina with a swerving, beguiling free-kick from miles out that the keeper nearly missed. Now he ran 50 yards, top speed throughout, weaved through three defenders and his unplayable cross between goalie and defenders left Lennon with a far post tap-in. He scored the second himself, his free kick clipping the wall. This time Reina was fatally deceived through no fault of his own.

In this twenty minute spell, Spurs won the game. While playing well throughout, they were never again on top. As the half went on, Spurs became Liverpool’s most creative asset, repeatedly conceding possession when under no pressure. Then,   Liverpool began to assert themselves and after half time, they emerged on a mission, whereupon the two sides engaged in frantic hand to hand combat deep inside the Spurs half. High speed attack v defence with Liverpool desperate to find a way through.

This was football to the power of ten. Under this magnifying glass, every run was a rich mixture of power, control and technique, each challenge a tipping point of its own, every incident worthy of a blog of its own. Win it and the equilibrium of the entire match tilted, until the next such challenge merely seconds later. For 30 minutes there was no respite for any player, save Reina the Liverpool keeper who watched from afar.

A Liverpool player, often Enrique on the left or Sterling on the right, would dart forward. The sides regrouped. Liverpool set the test, Spurs shifted around in response, the two teams as organisms, their players becoming a single whole. Liverpool probed for a breakthrough, Spurs rushed to counter like white blood cells gathering to see off an infection to the body. If one defender lost his individual battle, others moved to his aid as in the same instant our opponents already had moved to exploit any space and potential for a decisive strike.

In such an atmosphere, mistakes were made but for me the debit/credit balance sheet for Gallas, Dawson and Lloris came out firmly in their favour. Spurs may have been stretched this way and that but we never broke. Far from it; as the pressure increased so did our committment. Under this bombardment we stood firm. The bodies flew in to tackle and block. Never once did we experience those all too familiar moments when the entire defence disappears into another dimension for no earthly reason.

Gallas and Dawson did not permit themselves to be shifted out of the middle. They didn’t have to with Walker (at last!) in fine form and Vertonghen strong in the challenge.

The influence of both managers was clear and their men responded. As I’ve said, Spurs reacted ll to some excellent Liverpool pressure but we fell back into the AVB fault of dropping too deep. This was compounded by replacing Dempsey with Sigurdsson. With only Defoe up front we never had an outlet and therefore respite from the onslaught. Adebayor would have been perfect.

Liverpool dominated long periods of the match and if I were a red, on the long journey home I’d have been a’cursing and a’muttering at the injustice of it all. Henderson shot wide of a goal left bare and unprotected by a mad Lloris dash beyond his box, Dembele’s brave tackle from behind (on Gerrard I think) could easily have been called a penalty by some referees and they had a good few chances as the game went on. However, their goal was a crazy fluke – Lennon cleared off the line but our relief lasted a millisecond only as the ball flew into Bale’s face and back into the net.

In the end, Spurs did push up. A rush of pressure led by Lennon was greeted with a standing ovation from the centre Shelf. Walker told a ball-boy to hang on to it as the lad dashed enthusiastically to give his hero the ball. Even though Azza didn’t touch the ball, the pendulum had swung back just enough to make sure we played out the last 10 minutes without any serious alarms. The crowd really got behind the team and they were lifted.

Lennon had a fine match, making a mockery of the criticism I have made of his unwillingness to defend. Great nutmeg on Gerrard too. Bale’s defending was slack in the first half but he got the message after the break. Defoe didn’t touch the ball in the second half. Sandro had his least effective game this season but did his bit at the back. Dempsey needs others to give him the ball. He finds the space, you deliver and he’ll serve it up. His work is becoming more productive with each match.

And I’m still buzzing from that sense of complete immersion in a thrilling, fizzing spectacle. Total commitment from players and fans. Wonderful.

 

More than a touch of edginess around the old place come kick-off. There’s always something in the air with this lot but the source of this anxiety was closer to home. A poor run capped by the derby defeat last week. Team building and a moment of madness maybe but no excuses today.

Our start dispelled the doubts. Bright, organised and motivated, as a team we took the game to our opponents. By the end, all the doubts had gone. Our best home display for ages. Three goals (one a sparkling gem), hit the bar twice, everyone played well, lovely football for the most part building to a regular series of assaults on their goal. And an appearance at half-time from one of the finest players of the modern era at Tottenham. Lovely indeed.

Amid the attacking brilliance, my eye was drawn to the mighty Sandro and magnificent Michael Dawson. Allardyce has a glint in his stony eye when it comes to Spurs. Many times his Bolton and Blackburn sides have brutally crushed our weedy efforts to play football. In Nolan and Carroll he has the perfect pair to repeat the trick but they were roundly seen off. Nolan, a very handy player in this league by the way, was substituted and before his goal when for once a slip by Caulker left him unattended, Carroll achieved nothing.

Dawson and Sandro were having none of that. This is our patch and they shall not pass. The eastenders were roundly seen off. Daws was our leader – my imagination or has he shed a pound or two? maybe that will give him the mobility his manager wants for all members of his team. I felt his selection over Gallas for this one was crucial and so it proved.

Spine? You want a spine for the team? This is the Age of Hugo. He had little to do in the first half apart from a slightly scary punch. When called into action, he saved, he held it, he came fearlessly into the bodies as the set pieces came in and caught it when he could. All without apparently changing his inscrutable expression by so much as a raised eyebrow.

One striker – play like this and he’ll do. Defoe pretends to adopt a steely determination when it comes to these fixtures but you know inside he can’t control it. Desperately he shot over a couple of times – typically trying too hard to show them. Just let things flow, JD, take their natural course. His first goal will leave an indelible impression on those who saw it. Starting his run from only ten yards inside their half, he began a diagonal run that exposed the defence. Shifting it to his right, his finish was a stunning near post bullet from twenty yards.

And then there was Bale. Unstoppable Bale. The WH fans were disparaging about his features. Less abuse, more information for their team because all they saw of him was a clean pair of heels.

I like to think AVB tries something new every game. Yesterday he allowed Bale more freedom to roam from the wing. It worked a treat. Defenders backed away as if servants retreating in front of their emperor, bowing, scraping and scattering rose petals in his path. He charged through early on, smacked the post and down on the line. Dempsey couldn’t follow up. Slicing along the wing, he was badly fouled. No matter – crosses galore. Cutting inside the shoot or set up a chance. Second half, Dempsey chipped a clever ball – at last he’s sussed us out – and Bale stumbled a finish into the corner.

Dempsey came into the match as time passed. If his second half shot had gone in instead of thumping the crossbar, it would have done so much for his confidence, not to mention his image with the fans. As it was, he helped out with both goals in that period, conspiring with Sandro and Lennon in midfield to set the latter on a goal-bound run. He kept his head and left JD with an open goal.

Playing 4-4-1-1 with Bale free to wander established our superiority, although I would have liked JD and Clint to interchange more. A minor quibble on a day of superiority. Big Sam played an attacking set up but this left Noble outnumbered in centre midfield. Time and again there was a vast hole in front of the back four, not that I’m complaining, and we took full advantage.

Walker had his best game this season. Hud was puzzled about which way we were playing, with several considered and composed passes in the wrong direction but this was a fine team performance all round with many moments of thrilling attacking football.

To finish, rather than dwell on the sour atmosphere, at half time the King of White Hart Lane returned for the first time in nearly forty years. Alan Gilzean was upright and strong with a keen mind. He paid tribute to the crowd and was delighted to be back. he stood with his grandson. Gilly is a modest man so I suspect he’s not boasted about his exploits. I hope the young man understands that his granddad is a truly great footballer. Not great in the modern sense of having three decent games and an inflated transfer fee, but great as in one of the finest footballers the club has ever seen.

My piece on the great man is here, and buy Jay Morgan’s book for Christmas, In Search of Alan Gilzean.