Author: Alan

Kyle Walker: Victim of a Culture of Unrealistic Expectations

/ Alan / 32 Comments

After the game on Saturday, Kyle Walker received several abusive tweets and deleted his Twitter account. This sorry episode followed what is fast becoming a depressingly familiar pattern: player joins twitter. Fans welcome this and follow. We can interact with our heroes. This temporarily bucks the trend of increasing separation between Premier League clubs and their supporters. Fan insults player. Player says why do I bother. Player deletes account. Player more reluctant than ever to communicate.

The textspeak insults were pathetic and small-minded, like the people cowering behind the anonymity of cyberspace who posted them. Twitter is in a froth about it all, predictably. The good guys are trying to get Kyle to come back, although if he’s not on twitter, he won’t see it….

So what’s to be made of this? Reading some of the coverage, it feels like there’s been a cataclysmic rending of the Spurs firmament. Fans at each others’ throats. Players alienated from fans. Let’s have a go at the team while we’re about it. High up the league, fast improving, fine players but lose to a team racing clear at the top who spent more on three midfielders than the value of our team plus the bench and it’s AVB out, Walker out, Levy out. 606 is as unreliable a guide to opinion as Twitter, but a Spurs fan rang on Saturday to say precisely that, describing our performance as the worst he’d seen in 30 years. Couldn’t have been a real Spurs fan, then.

Twitter is a lot of fun but sometimes it suffers from delusions of grandeur. Designed as a method of conversation, it becomes reified into a self-contained universe. Not one conversation but the only conversation. The delusion is fed by a media hungry for opinions. It’s referenced with increasing frequency. Who needs a contact book compiled painstakingly over many years of scoop-seeking when you have a ready-made source of quotes at your fingertips, conveniently packaged into 140 character soundbites.

I trust those weasel misbegotten nogoodniks will crawl back under the stone from whence they came. It should be easy, they have no backbone. Back in the real world, after his dire error, the Shelf groaned then gave Kyle Walker a warm round of sympathetic applause from the Shelf. A few stood to emphasise the point that there’s a difference between a bad player and a player having a bad game. Loyal fans who put that mistake into context. The young full-back heard that and will remember long after Twitter becomes the MySpace of the next decade.

That context recognised instinctively by the Shelf is sadly lacking from the appreciation of many football fans these days, not just Spurs supporters. Devouring the game through television provides valuable insights but fundamentally distorts the nature and equilibrium of this finest of all sports. It’s safe to sit back and judge from the armchair gantry where everything is spread out before you. Slow it all down, watch a key incident 37 times from 6 different angles, only then decide a player’s ability. It fosters a culture of blame where perfection is the sole acceptable option and condemnation follows swiftly for anyone who dares to fall short.

This culture of unrealistic expectations distorts our entire perception of the game, of what clubs, players and referees for that matter are capable of. Nothing exists but the here and now. Spurs have a new manager and new players so why aren’t we top of the table? We’ve had several matches already. Just buy lots of players. It’s what other teams do. Refs are rubbish, even though we’ve seen an incident repeatedly and still can’t decide whether it’s a surefire penalty. Players are not all they are cracked up to be. Look, they make mistakes. Let’s get some stats to back it up.

Back in the real world, players’ form goes up and down. Hardly a staggering insight but in the universe of the unreal, it is forgotten far too frequently. The two finest midfielders I’ve seen at the Lane, Hoddle and Gascoigne, had more games when they were largely ineffective than glory games. It doesn’t diminish their stellar achievements one jot because that’s merely the nature of football. The way Ginola was lauded at half-time, you’d think he was Hod and Gazza rolled into one. I enjoyed watching him play, but just so you know, they show those goals against Barnsley and Leeds over and over partly because they are superb but mainly because there aren’t many others to choose from. For every moment where he turned a game there were twenty others where he slowed everything down intolerably or ran, however elegantly, into a blind alley.

In the real world, I’m fortunate enough to sit in row 14 of the Shelf, almost opposite the benches. The players are close, real-life flesh and blood, stained and steaming. When they hug the touchline, I can count the beads of sweat on their brow.

It’s a perspective that means I’m particularly close to wingers and full-backs. For that reason, I’m particularly fond of them. They can’t hide. I’m not seeing them through a prism of slowmos or tactics graphics. Right there. I see their faces and under pressure, I can see into their minds. I see elation, indifference and fear. Lots of fear, you’d be surprised. They cover it up but not from me.

So I see Kyle Walker as the most focussed and committed of Tottenham players. I am convinced of it. Towards the end of last season, he was knackered. Sure, I know they play once or twice a week, should be fit enough blah blah. But pounding up and down that wing, forward and back, being nudged and pulled and kicked, he was tired. His legs were plastered with support tape as if stuck together with sellotape. In a quiet moment, he would bend double to catch his breath.

And he did not stop. Over and over, his determination to overcome the pain in his legs and his guts kept him going. His determination to be a good professional. His dedication to the shirt. Our shirt.

Walker is not playing so well this season. His poor positional play is being found out. Late on Saturday I looked for his runs to support Lennon as we sought an equaliser but there was nothing. I don’t know what caused it but he was shot through. The England trip, a virus maybe but he was off-colour. During a lull, he went to the bench, ostensibly for a drink but taking on liquid that late will have no effect whatsoever on his body. He needed a boost, words of soothing reassurance to quell his anxiety.

Exhaustion seeps from muscle to mind and when called into action next he made two horrendous mistakes in as many seconds and they scored their fourth. He made one final dash upfield in desperate atonement, stiff-legged and too late. Instinct propelled him forward.

Kyle Walker is not a bad player, he’s a fine footballer who is not playing well. He’s young and will learn. His pace gets him out of trouble most of the time but not always. Defenders need games to add positional nouse to their talents. He will succeed and but he has nothing to prove to me. I know he plays for the shirt.

Thanks to my cyberpal the @Lustdoctor. Blog in the blogroll to your right. Essential. Our conversation on twitter generated some ideas for this piece. Oh the irony.

Spurs To Build Birthing Pool In New Stadium

/ Alan / 8 Comments

That would be the perfect solution. If Spurs are to be at the cutting edge and include everything that the modern footballer needs, include a birthing pool in the new stadium. Heavily pregnant partners could then accompany their men to the ground secure in the knowledge that not only would the best possible care be available (after all Spurs have won awards for their medical facilities), but also the proud father would be on the spot should the sprog drop during a game. Dad could start and be called off as the moment approached. Instead of that rolling gesture with the hands, mimic a baby rocking and that’s the signal. It could tip the balance when it comes to transfers. We can’t match the fees and wages of others but we are the family-friendly club. And when it’s not in use, there’s extra bathing space after training.

Bale’s presence may not ultimately have tipped the balance between the two sides but it sure would have helped. Di Matteo will send the happy couple the biggest bouquet of all. Without Bale and the injured Dembele, Tottenham were deprived of rhythm and creativity. From the beginning our passing was disjointed, inept at times, and Chelsea relished the opportunities presented by our wasteful use of precious possession. A rally after half-time offered hope but then inexcusably we were sucked back into a morass of mediocrity and defensive errors were ruthlessly punished.

The defeat hurt but we learned what we already know, that we have a good team that is still building up the resilience and balance required to succeed against the best and that we find it hard to compensate for the loss of our best players.

Di Matteo’s high pressing game decisively won the tactical battle between the current and former Chelsea managers and Spurs had neither the wit nor width to get behind them. Mata, Hazard, Ramaires and Oscar pressured us from the start and we looked uncomfortable on the ball. Probably they would have done the same if Bale had played but his absence made their task much easier. His mere presence would have tied down two defenders and also, with Lennon, given us width from touchline to touchline so our opponents would have had to protect more ground. In attack we could have exploited the Blues’ narrow set-up.

Instead, it was Spurs who were narrow. Dempsey and Sigurdsson both had spells wide left, neither were effective. Also, we set up with two defensive midfielders  It would be interesting to know when that choice was made, before or after the dash to the maternity ward. It might have been the plan anyway, to restrict the space in front of our box where the Blues like to swarm and outnumber opponents. However, it became another limitation on our ability to counter-attack. We sorely missed Dembele’s creativity and tackling, plus the interchange between him and Sandro that has unsettled opponents in recent weeks. Yesterday we were stale and predictable, at times looking as if Lennon had brought home from Poland some of those England sleeping pills.

The rhythmic control that has been the hallmark of recent performances was completely absent in the first half. Whatever the tactics, there was no excuse for this feeble, directionless effort. Our passing was dire, our ball-control rank. Players were constantly being caught in possession as we were too slow and failed to support the man on the ball. Dempsey was particularly bad, although he didn’t deserve the roar of disapproval that greeted another in a series of errors. It was still the first half. He’s better at receiving the ball and making something of it in or around the box than he is trying to be creative in deeper positions but he was the most wasteful of them all.

Villas Boas tried to do something about it as Dempsey and Siggy exchanged positions but it changed nothing, yet despite this we made and missed chances – Gallas alone in the box from an early free-kick, Dempsey missed, Defoe selfish. The opening goal was well-taken as Cahill volleyed from the edge of the box but it was poor defending. Not for the only time in this match, fatally Gallas’ clearance was poor and there was no closing down.

AVB was making further changes with only a couple of minutes to go before the half-time break, urgently calling players over. Something must have been said in the dressing room. The subs didn’t come out for their customary kick-about and from the restart we copied our opponents’ tactics by tearing into them higher up the pitch. I would have brought Adebayor on for Dempsey but perhaps the American was being protected by a loyal manager.

As it turned out, that change wasn’t necessary to alter the balance of the match. Vertonghen chased a lost cause at the far post and Gallas touched in his cross. We surged forward. Once the full-court press had been perforated, the Chelsea back four was exposed and found wanting. We took the lead with a fine Defoe goal, the striker classically moving across his marker to touch in a Lennon pass after the winger ran at the defence.

For a glorious 15 minutes, we dominated. Spark and bounce were discovered. Defoe and Lennon were excellent, including the latter launching two huge tackles on Ashley Cole. Then inexcusably we conceded first the momentum and then the match itself . A return to bad old ways and self-inflicted wounds. A little spell of Chelsea pressure became something more significant because we could not clear the ball and keep it. Gallas again cleared straight to an opponent, Mata this time, again he wasn’t closed down, again he scored.

They scored soon after. Walker left a vast gap between him and Gallas and did not track the run. Hazard’s pass was superb, damn him, and Mata finished. Credit where it is due. Walker was shot well before the end of the game. He wasn’t making the overlapping runs just when we needed them and going to get a drink from the bench with a couple of minutes left showed his mind as well as his legs had gone. His concentration lapse, missing a tackle then keeping the ball in play for Mata to set up Sturridge, meant we were done for.

Chelsea were the better side, although it pains me to admit it. However, they scored through defensive errors and we had more  goal opportunities than they did. Siggy, in the team to score from midfield, missed two great chances. His value is limited if he fails. While I hate to discourage effort, he should slow down, stop and think about what he’s doing rather than hurtling about midfield because too often the game passes him by.

Adebayor had an immediate impact but missed his best chance from a keeper rebound, then Cech nearly misjudged a Sandro long-range effort.

Livermore had the right attitude when he came on, picking the ball up and moving it on quickly and simply. Lennon had a fine second half. Sandro could not exert much influence and was quiet when we could have down with his power.

At the back, AVB may have some decisions to make. Vertonghen had another good game at left back but in Kaboul’s absence we may be better off with his pace and intelligence in the centre. At least AVB may to revise his opinion of Dawson. Also, we have two decent keepers with different attributes and for the sake of consistency at the back, he should decide whether he prefers Friedal’s solidity and shot-stopping or Lloris’ command of his area. Chopping and changing doesn’t help build understanding with his back four.

A postscript  before the game the woman steward at gates for blocks 26-28 had confiscate a drink in a plastic bottle from a young girl. The girl needed a drink to take some medicine so the steward gave her a carton from her own pocket. Very kind.

 

To lift the post-defeat blues, enter the TOMM competition to win a copy of the Spurs Miscellany by Adam Powley and Martin Cloake. For a review, see the previous article. Blogs like this one owe a huge debt to fanzines. What was the name of the first Spurs fanzine? The nickname of the club in the book’s title might point you in the right direction…. e-mail tottenhamonmymind@gmx.co.uk

In Appreciation Of Milija Aleksic

/ Alan / 14 Comments

Former Spurs goalkeeper Milija Aleksic died yesterday aged 61. Most players who appeared only 32 times in three seasons would be a mere footnote in the club’s illustrious history. However, Aleksic played in the side that won the F.A. Cup in 1981, one of the most memorable matches in modern times and a victory that shaped the passion and dedication of two generations of Tottenham fans.

In the late 70s, Spurs were having problems with their keepers. When the incomparable Pat Jennings was allowed to leave in 1977, we looked forward with optimism to a new era as two promising Spurs youngsters, Barry Daines and Mark Kendall, took on his mantle. However, it gradually became clear that Jennings’ departure was severely premature. The man who never wanted to leave played over 200 games for Arsenal while Daines and Kendall failed to fulfil their potential, except perhaps in their ability to put on weight. These days it is the accepted wisdom that goalkeepers mature well into their thirties as the admirable Friedel has demonstrated and in a small way Spurs played a part in this culture change, learning from the Jennings debacle by rejuvenating Ray Clemence’s career after he left Liverpool similarly early.

Despite the pressing need to solve the uncertainly at the back, with all due respect Aleksic’s arrival was greeted with bemusement rather than delight. Coming from Luton for £100,000, he had a low profile and his role wasn’t clear. It felt like we’d signed a back-up keeper when we needed a genuine challenger for the first team. He made his debut against Altrincham in the 3rd round of the Cup, winning a replay 3-0 after we had nearly lost to the non-leaguers in the first game. However, Kendall regained his place and for the next couple of seasons Aleksic was seldom first choice. His rare opportunities for a run in the side were further hampered by two incidents when he had come back into the team only to be carried off, once against Norwich when Roberts went in goal and another against Manchester United when Joe Jordan broke his jaw, Hoddle taking the green jersey.

Then luck turned his way. In March 1981 Daines was injured and Aleksic took his chance. His one decent spell at Spurs helped us win the Cup. Daines was fit again but became the forgotten man of the 81 squad as Aleksic kept his place.

He was better on his line making saves than coming off it but of course with Roberts and Miller in front of him, many of the crosses were dealt with. He will be remembered as part of the team that won the Cup in one of the most famous post-war finals, but also that side’s legacy is still influencing the club to this day. After years in the doldrums, we had won something. In the process, the boys of 81 banished painful memories of failure, including relegation, where midtable mediocrity became something to be grateful for.

That side played the Tottenham way with flair and panache from Ardiles, Villa, Crooks and Archibald laid upon a foundation of dedication and grit in the shape of Perryman and Roberts. Those who grew up with that team will be Spurs for life, as will their children because the tales will be told and the memories handed down through the generations. This is Spurs, this is the way to play the game, and Milija Aleksic will forever be a part of that. My thoughts are with his family.

 

The Spurs Miscellany by Adam Powley and Martin Cloake

Miscellanies are fun to dip in and out of, especially if like me you have an increasingly short attention span. In the hands of Cloake and Powley, as safe as Pat Jennings on crosses, it becomes something more. Their names are synonymous with quality and passion for all matters Spurs and their insight into what it means to be a Spurs fan comes through in their selection. A mixture of the serious and quirky, this becomes much more than a series of lists and anecdotes that any hack could cut and paste. It’s more a history of the club with the dull bits left out.

You can either read it cover to cover, beginning with the forward from Ossie Ardiles, or turn to any page where something will catch the eye. Being a Spurs fan, it’s appropriate that I opened it at the list of our heaviest defeats. So much to choose from, yet the authors know their Spurs. There’s a story about John Pratt that  I won’t spoil by telling you, but it is not only funny in itself but perfectly sums up the career of this put-upon stalwart.

Be warned – it’s extremely addictive. You just have to turn the page, just one more… I should have finished that report on the train, I know, but I didn’t know that the famous Arsenal manager Herbert Chapman not only used to play for Spurs, he took to the field in yellow boots. There’s nothing new under the sun.

Many of the stories, such as the Gunners’ move to north London, are familiar but they don’t dim in the re-telling. There are stats galore and biographies of our greats but personally I really wanted to know that Spurs have blue and white traffic cones.

This updated version is unreservedly recommended and Christmas is coming…

Those lovely people at publishers Vision Sports have given me a copy to give away. Blogs like this one owe a huge debt to fanzines. What was the name of the first Tottenham Hotspur fanzine? Answers to: tottenhamonmymind@gmx.co.uk. Closing date Wednesday 24th October.

 

Football On My Mind: Hodgson Speaks To Fans – How Dare He?

/ Alan / 8 Comments

Football On My Mind is an occasional series of articles about current events in the game, not just about Spurs. Endlessly curious, it’s called On My Mind because it is, always.

Last week England manager Roy Hodgson committed what appears to be a cardinal sin in contemporary football. He gave an honest answer to a question from a fan.

Hodgson has been accused of being at the very least naive and at worst of crass stupidity. He’s since apologised but it’s not entirely clear for what exactly. Certainly Rio Ferdinand should have been the first to know that he was not selected for the forthcoming England squad. Any leader worth their salt knows that honesty and trust are powerful motivators, whether the organisation be a charity like the one I manage, a private company or a football team. While the defender’s omission is hardly a surprise, least of all to him I suspect, this apparent breach of duty will reverberate through the rest of the squad. I doubt it will have any immediate noticeable effect but they won’t forget when times are tough and their manager calls for trust in his methods.

In many ways Hodgson presents as a man out of time, a relic even, although this serves to mask a comprehensive understanding of the modern game. It’s hard to imagine him as a young man. He was born an avuncular uncle figure. There’s a comfortable stability in his  old-fashioned values of hard work, footballers doing their best and an integrity born of working with players and an endless fascination with the game itself. Most of the time this continuity with the past is reassuring in a time of rapid change and short attention spans and it’s not as if he bangs on about the good old days all the time as many younger pundits choose to do. Roy will never be a trendy uncle, perish the thought that he will lose his charm, but he looks forward as well as back and his broad-minded approach to innovation probably held back his career in England. 

The old days were never as good as many would have you believe. Hodgson’s apparent wish that John Terry should be found not guilty by a court or the FA smacks of the unwritten football code of silence, what happens on the pitch stays on the pitch, superseding the imperative to counter racism in all its guises.  However, communicating with the supporters is a fundamental element of that old-school attitude and there’s nothing wrong with that whatsoever. Hodgson wants to talk football and does not think he is above the fans, whereas many professionals treat us with barely concealed contempt. The yawning gap between fans and the clubs to which they have devoted a large part of their lives has created a growing sense of alienation that is destined to cause irrevocable harm to the game as a whole unless it is challenged.

These days the them and us attitude prevails. Many Premier League clubs do their utmost to control the contact between their staff and the fans. We faithfully turn up and the only communication is one-way via our bank accounts. Perish the thought that we may wish to interact in any other way. Even in the media, the pundits, paid handsomely to talk, barely disguise their contempt for the task of communicating. And all this is accepted by the producers and directors who tolerate vapid platitudes or, in the case of Mark Lawrenson during Euro 2012, apparent disdain for football itself.

The England manager does something about it, in his own small way. He’s on the tube, not a limo or even a cab, knowing he will be recognised. When he is, he’s happy to talk openly about the game he loves, knowing that fans share that passion. He’s not different because of his status, he’s the same as us. Passionate after all these years about the game we love.

So he talks and ends up all over the back pages because in return for his openness, someone calls the tabloids. No doubt they are boasting to their mates about it and they have trousered a few hundred quid in return.

Hodgson will never be as straightforward again with the public and it’s a reminder to everyone else in the business to keep mouthing the dull platitudes. Keep to themselves any real opinions, anything of any vague interest or that may be marginally different from what anyone else is saying. Perhaps I’m the one who is now being naive in believing there is any such thing as a private conversation any longer.

Uncle Roy was young once. He used to play for Tonbridge Angels, now in the Conference South. I went to see them 10 days ago. My wife’s nephew was mascot. After the game, all the players gathered in the club lounge and happily posed for pictures, chatted to supporters and signed autographs. As the match finished, the away team fans huddled behind the goal. Nothing sinister here – they had been joined by Sutton’s manager who talked to them about the club’s current problems. He gave them bad news, they gave him a round of applause.

This contact is why more fans are turning their backs on the big clubs. It’s not the same in the Premier League but it is possible to work much harder to close the gap between fans and clubs. Hodgson was naive but like any relationship, it works both ways. Perhaps we get the game we deserve.