Spurs Are A’Coming! Circle The Wagons!

May 7, 2012 / Alan / 29 Comments

Tottenham Hotspur’s spring tour of the lower regions of the Premier League finished in the Midlands on a frustrating note as we hammered away at Villa’s massed ranks for 90 minutes without scoring from open play. Going down to ten men early in the second made only a momentary difference to the pattern of a game where we had all the ball, plenty of shots, countless corners but were unable to find that single moment of finesse to create a golden chance. As it was, we bludgeoned away at the one place where our opponents were strong, the centre of their defence, with a predictable lack of success.

It’s set up a cataclysmic final day at the Lane this coming Sunday that epitomises the contradictory nature of being a fan: we could well do without it but are desperately compelled to be there. Last August, the promise of the chance to take third place would have been enticing. Now, it’s laced with fear and dread, a threatening reminder of the devastating emptiness of failure rather than the prospect of joyous glory just 6 days away.

This of all seasons, where we have at times played the best football in a Spurs generation, will generate more debate than any other. Look back for a turning point and there’s something in most of the last twenty-odd games, ranging from the whole tactical and motivational approach at the club through the capitulation at the Emirates, refereeing decisions at Stoke, the January window and the width of the lace of Defoe’s boot away at City.

Yesterday was no exception. This tour has not shown the best side of scenic England. At least Bolton were brave enough to play some football and take the game to us. If you want another turning point to add to the lengthy list, Boyata’s miss just before half-time tipped the balance of that match at least. Blackburn and Villa were both awful but whereas the former lacked motivation and resolve, Villa seemed hamstrung with nerves and fearful of their own lack of ability to create any sort of attack. By the finish, their manager was slumped in his seat sharing dark jokes with a coach, the result in the hands of fate. There was nothing more he could do as his eleven were swamped by our ten.

Yet by then they had managed to score from open play, something we conspicuously failed to do. Granted it was courtesy of a giant deflection – I don’t see how Friedel could have reached it – but it was another crucial moment. We should have closed down the scorer but by then had already established the pattern, pushing forward from all sides and angles. We should and could have more alert to the basics at the back.

You want turning points? As if that wasn’t enough for one match, how about an inexperienced full-back charging in for a loose ball in a relatively safe area with his foot off the ground? Rose was a little unfortunate – the ball was off the turf but he caught Hutton with his follow through. However, he had to go. Whilst I admire his commitment to go wholeheartedly for that ball, a calmer head would have shown the discretion that was required at that point. As it was, chasing the game and down to ten men.

Our panic was comical. Having totally dominated, we then madly kicked the ball backwards high towards the goal, fell over and generally went barmy. Soon it became apparent that it really didn’t make much difference. Villa had no idea what to do with the ball so allowed us to re-establish control. For the rest of the match we huffed and puffed, forcing our opponents back into their box as they threw the wagons into a circle for a last ditch rearguard action.

In the end, it was an old failing that did for us. Despite being gifted an opening when the otherwise inspiring Dunne fouled Sandro in the box, we failed to capitalise. Early in the season we could break down defences through movement, pace and patience. Somewhere along the way we’ve lost that ability. Once again we could not find a way through the massed ranks. Bolton win friends because they want to play but we ruthlessly exploited the gaps that they left behind. When Villa had no inclination or apparent understanding of how to keep the ball in our half of the field even though they had an extra man, it’s a very different matter.

I’m not inclined to be too harsh. If you had joined the game for the last 25 minutes, there was no way to tell we were a man down. However, although we kept plugging away, we could never produce the width or the extra man to make the breakthrough. In the first half, our moves broke down late on as we got near their box through lack of a decent final ball. Modric disappointingly never found his range, while Bale and Lennon came inside too frequently where the ponderous but stout Villa back four were ready for them. Not a great one for stats, nevertheless at half time my stream showed that only 6% of our attacks came down the left. With Bale and Rose, we needed more but the latter’s dismissal scuppered the half-time tactics talk to give us more width.

As it was, we repeated past patterns of failure. A stream of crosses into the box that the Villa centrebacks headed away. They did it extremely well, all credit to them, but as I’ve said before in these cyberpages, I’ve spotted that we only have one big striker, Spurs still haven’t picked that up. Villa wouldn’t budge and we did not demonstrate the patience or wit to hold onto the ball and try to shift them from their entrenched positions. Back to the ten men again, back to the might have beens.

Nobody played particularly badly. Rose’s positional play was dodgy again and Luka’s passing was way off. No one had an especially good game. Kaboul made some fine tackles but at other times was wayward and impetuous. Sandro was strong and mobile, Lennon was bright and Manu’s movement was decent. Redknapp dithered over substitutions but I’m feeling unduly sympathetic. I would have brought on Defoe and gone for the win – even allowing for the remote possibility of Villa scoring, a draw doesn’t do us much good. Parker on earlier and three at the back could have calmed us down but to be fair we were well on top and I can see the argument not to change anything. I did enjoy the moment when JD nearly came on. HR gave him an unusually long set of instructions whilst Defoe took not a blind bit of notice.

Win against Fulham, that’s fourth and then see what happens at the Hawthorns. Rest well this week then give it everything. If we do, we will win. The stomach-churning, gut-wrenching nausea is already making me giddy and weak. Yesterday I made the mistake of eating lunch at half-time. I nearly threw up later as the tension cranked up to ridiculous levels. Goodness what Sunday will be like but the prospect of redemption will lift me to the heights. I trust the team feel similarly inspired.

Two Down, Two To Go

May 3, 2012May 3, 2012 / Alan / 12 Comments

The pass sliced a clinical arc through the hapless defence. The ruthless beauty of the surgeon’s art won the game.

If I could, I would. The dreams of a paunchy jowled man who is fighting off the strictures of middle-age are little different from those of an equally podgy fresh-faced only child pestering his hard-working parents to schlepp him across London to see a meshugenah game of football. Except now when I close my eyes, if I could have just that one moment, I wouldn’t have the top corner screamer. Sure, I can sense the satisfaction in the perfect co-ordination of mind and body, pouncing on a bouncing ball at the edge of the box, the feel of the ball on the soft leather, the thwack as it sizzles on its way into the top corner, the private fizzing as it rolls down the net that only the players close by can hear.

Now I’m grown up, for me it’s the pass. To take out an entire defence, rather than hit it, to aim for a spot and put the ball right there, to have the presence of mind amidst the tackles, the bedlam and the fear to see not only what’s happening but what might happen, if you put it there, just there, into the stride of the winger…

Luka Modric can do both, and more. Even I his biggest fan has ruefully acknowledged that this season he’s not done it either as well or as often as his prodigious ability allows but last night he helped first to conquer the midfield, ably supported by a strong, tenacious performance by Sandro, then went on to win the match for Spurs, a vital three points as the season reaches its desperate climax.

Spurs were the better side for three quarters of this match but the decisive period was in the other quarter, the 20 minutes or so after half-time where we failed to respond to our opponents’ renewed purpose. Modric toiled from the beginning to establish our pass and move rhythm. Although he was dropping deep, this enabled us to settle on the ball and build. Sandro eased forward to compensate. The duo combined well. We stuttered but it was enough to stay on top as the half went on. Lennon and Bale, staying wide mostly, were always dangerous. Walker and Petrov tested out each other’s pace in an absorbing old-style winger v full-back battle, while Kaboul restricted Davies’, and therefore Bolton’s, attacking options.

However, a series of poor touches meant we were never fluent and therefore never completely comfortable. Adebayor couldn’t make the ball stick and his overall play was below par. Rose did not have a good match, the ball bouncing wildly off his boot at every touch and he left gaps behind and to the side of him at the back.

Having gone to all the trouble and effort of taking control, capped by Modric’s lovely goal, and then profiting from a bad miss by Boyata on the half-time whistle, we proceeded to throw all the hard work away by conceding a soft goal. Dozing at a throw-in deep in our half, Reo-Coker’s sprint into the box revealed that we had only three men in our own box. It was absurdly poor, an example of the slack mental attitude that will have cost us dear if we do not finish in the top four. Harry should replay that in the dressing-room before our final two games – what not to do.

As they dithered, I raged at this apparently fatal wastefulness. Then we were transformed. Using Bolton’s pressure to our advantage, we counter-attacked from deep, rediscovering that skill that peaked away to Norwich, only to fade from view. Bale, space set up by a little interchange, drives from deep, a perfect ball to Rafa. It’s pace, it’s first touch, it’s the way to play. Then the pass, Modric from the halfway line, credit to Lennon who set off before the ball reached Luka’s foot. A perfect ball to Adebayor, it’s pace, it’s first touch, it’s the way to play. The stunning simplicity of a memorable goal.

Another interchange of passes, Bale again to Adebayor. Manu had a lousy match. Two perfectly taken goals. That will do. Bolton were sunk and we played out time, well on top. Time to chuckle at the delicious irony of Davies complaining to the referee about being fouled. Redknapp took the risky choice to have Sandro mark the man who always scores against us. For the most part it worked although Davies did set up their goal. He didn’t get the decisions, so Sandro got an elbow in his face for his troubles. That mouthguard came in handy.

Talking of decisions, we did get the rub of the green. Clear handball by Sandro before Luka’s opener and Gallas a little later at the other end. Karma evening itself up? It’s rubbish, all that…

The tension is unbearable, but it’s two down with two to go. We thoroughly deserved this one, which should be the template for struggling Villa this weekend. They are vulnerable, so we should take them. Not saying it’s all getting too much, but in the second half this podgy middle-aged man slid off the sofa, stretching to convert a cross that Manu just missed. The pressure is getting to me but let’s hope I never grow up.

One Down, Three To Go

April 30, 2012April 30, 2012 / Alan / 5 Comments

Just what Spurs needed – three points. No alarms, a decent effort that lacked a cutting edge to convert our massive superiority into more goals but none was needed in response to opponents who reeked of the sickly unpleasant odour of apathy. And people have said our players don’t care. I’m surprised the Blackburn squad could summon up the effort to climb the stairs of the team coach.

Then on the way home, the Big News. In years to come, will you remember where you were when Hodgson became odds-on for England manager? No, me neither. That apathy, it’s spreading. The South Circular for me, as a matter of record. Looks like our Harry is going to stay for a while longer, whether we like it or not. I bet he’s hurt, at not being asked. Maybe he was, discreetly. More likely the quiet little chat was between the F.A. and Daniel Levy. It went something like this. David Dein: “HOW MUCH?”

The fans are not so sure but Levy wants his man to stay, hence the big contract. Hope that leaves some cash for a transfer budget worthy of the name. In the meantime, it’s one down, three to go.

Motivation was an issue for both teams, given recent performances. From the start Spurs showed plenty of appetite for the task ahead – my imagination but did the huddle last a fraction longer than usual? Gallas’ ankles are going but there’s fire and ambition in the belly still. Modric and Sandro took the midfield from the kick off and everyone was keen to get on the ball. Quickly we established the rhythm that has served us so well this season and when we added the high tempo, we could really swing.

Blackburn however were indifferent to the point of fascination. Fans of all clubs splutter at the baffling decisions of their manager but for Kean to set up his relegation threatened side so they did not have a single shot in the entire 90 minutes takes lacklustre to cosmic levels. Five the back, they never closed down the space in front of their box thus presenting us with total control. Injury time approached, two down but they weren’t going to budge. Oh no, not them. Never mind the score or league position, this is the set-up and we are sticking to it. Several of their more experienced players were happily chatting and smiling throughout. I’ve had a lot of time for the dignified way in which Kean has refused to either buckle under the pressure or criticise his fans despite the abuse he has received (whereas Redknapp bristles indignantly at the slightest provocation), but this was unfathomable.

I’m not given to extravagant predictions but last season I called Sandro a world-class prospect. Yesterday he showed how much we have missed him. The perfect defensive midfielder is strong, athletic, fearless in defence with good positional sense plus the passing ability to launch attacks. Don’t ask for much, do we, but he delivers. He’s lost weight and looks all the better for it. He tackled, thundered the bar with a long range hammer and above all never looked stretched. When he tired in the second half, he hung back and covered, just as a DM should when we are leading. Complete control, of the pitch and of his own game. Best not to slide tackle around the Park Lane penalty spot, though. Spilling your guts for the team is one thing but that was going too far.

Modric had a good first half. Early on he dashed deep into the box to cross from the byline and it was good to see him so involved in proceedings. Again, it’s something else we’ve missed. That drop of the shoulders that gives me goosebumps, he’s away and calling the tune. The whole game picks up when he’s on the ball. Some delightful passing including one curling ball into the box for Lennon that combined sublime touch with the prescience of Mystic Meg.

This fine partnership provided the impetus for a return to the delightful passing and movement of the good old days. Seems like so long ago. The Newcastle game was only 2 months ago, feels like I’m talking about a different side. The old problems were there: a lack of sharpness in the box. Adebayor making good runs but he’s too far in front of the near post when the cross comes in to be of maximum danger, Rafa and others hanging back when they should have been belting towards the 6 yard box. It’s the sort of stat that I think I’ve misheard but 5Live said that Jelavic has scored his last 28 goals with his first touch. We should take note because it won’t happen at Spurs.

The goal was a message about what works. A deep cross from Lennon that Bale got his head to and the rebound was forced in by Rafa. Nice to get a messy goal for once but the point is, the cross was aimed to a man, not space and we had men on the spot to score from close range. Too often we’ve been outnumbered.

Gallas hit the bar from a corner, shame, it was a good header, but it will probably be another 150 -odd corners until we score another one.

We didn’t start the second half as well as the first but it didn’t matter because Blackburn were so flaccid. We went through the motions without causing many problems. I was waiting for the inevitable breakaway and the one shot one goal equaliser that’s so familiar. Blackburn have the pace that other teams have used to unsettle us but they didn’t believe in giving Hoilett or Yakubu the ball. Anyway, Kaboul was mighty at the back, three solid headers from awkward deep balls and unbeatable on the ground, one great tackle on Hoilett in particular. Gallas was determined but neither were stretched. It was so quiet, I could hear Friedel barking out instructions to his defenders, and I sit near halfway.

None of which stopped me worrying. Talking of apathy, nothing induces it more than a Spurs free-kick within shooting range. May as well count the pigeons in the stands. The pundits around me are fine upstanding loyal fans, behind the team through thick and thin, it makes watching the game even more of a pleasure. I had to agree with the voice that said, ‘My money’s on the goal kick’ as Walker stepped up, then a flash and a blur and it’s in the back of the net. The first league direct free kick since January 2101, I do believe. I won’t say it was worth waiting two years for but a shot of that power, spin and accuracy is a bit of a marvel. Wonderful.

Neither Rose nor Bale had outstanding games but together they were a threat. Rose’s crossing wasn’t quite up to scratch but he did well enough. His presence enabled Bale and Modric to make use of the space inside the full-back even though Blackburn had an extra man at the back. Walker did well bar one missed tackle. Once again he played on in some discomfort, at least for the entire second half. His battered legs look as if they are stuck together with tape, such is this new high-tech strapping. He is focussed and committed, as well as being a top class footballer. A big favourite of mine.

I’d hoped the relegation places would have been a bit clearer by now but what with Villa being pulled into it, I expect more fight from our opponents in the next two games. Little can be judged from this one but if Sandro’s attitude can spread just a touch through the team, we’ll be in with a great chance of making it two out of two on Wednesday night.

Competition corner: It’s like Vision On, only with words. Another one for the kids there, which last week’s competition certainly wasn’t. The Spurs player pictured was Terry Naylor, who before he was a footballer used to be a Smithfield meat porter and he treated full backs the same way as he handled those carcasses. the winner was regular correspondent I Know Alan Gilzean, mainly because he was the only one who got both parts correct. Good man!

I have been promised a copy of Louis Saha’s book Thinking Inside the Box by those lovely people at Vision Publishing. Yesterday on 5Live Ian Payne described it as ‘extraordinary, like no other footballer’s autobiography.’ Sounds promising. here’s the deal: I’ll read it then you can have the chance to win my copy. Stay tuned.

Sad Spurs Are The Ghosts Of Their Former Selves

April 22, 2012 / Alan / 38 Comments

Plenty of Spurs places on the web where you can find anger as we slip down the table. I’m fond of describing the significance not of individual matches but sequences that crop up as the season plays out. A combination of computer predetermination and evolving circumstances throws up intriguing little sets of fixtures. Take our last segment of the year and it’s relegation form. Don’t forget, after the big sides, this is our winnable run-in.

Tottenham On My Mind, however, is a site of sadness. Flashes of fury quickly passed. The team deserve it for a pallid impression of their real selves on Saturday evening. It looked the same. Same characters, same passing, same runs down either wing, the midfield dominance. But there was nothing really there. Lifeless apparitions going through the motions. I bet if you put out your hand to touch the chest of any of them, it would have gone clean through.

Sad now, because of all recent Tottenham teams, I feel so close to this one. I’ve agonised over their growing pains as they made mistakes, so many mistakes. I’ve stood up for Modric as his apparently frail frame became the target for lesser men. I knew he was tough, and so it proved. I’ve worried for Bale, youthful and timid on the wing, until suddenly he had a growing spurt and put it all together. Ledley I’ve nurtured through each sinew sapping sprint, looked anxiously to see how he recovers following every crunching tackle, marvelled at a calm diligence and dignity that I could never have come close to in my wildest dreams.

These and others I’ve watched, wondering if they can find the answers to maturity through experience. No good telling them, they have to live it and find out for themselves. Then suddenly they were pinging the ball all over the place, pass and move, push and run. The game is easy, it’s just the players that make it difficult goes the saying and this lot made it simple. Made it heaven. Beautiful, beautiful football I’d waited a lifetime to see. Gone, all gone. So sad.

Sad that against inferior but well-drilled opponents, once again we did not have the nouse to find a way through. They did try, for the most part, they just didn’t think. Modric did many of our good things but that’s not saying much. He could and should have done more to take the midfield by the scruff of the neck and dominate. Not for 90 minutes, 20 would have done, 10 or 15 even. In that short burst we could have turned the game because Rangers had little interest in even holding the ball up front when they cleared it, preferring to sit back and wait. That would have been enough, but nothing. Parker too: plenty of effort and he does the same things as he did before Christmas. Except he does it all half a yard slower. He’s a fraction late into tackles, just one the tail of the runner into the box, a touch off-balance when he passes or shoots. So sad.

It’s wrong to invoke the spirit of Barcelona when comparing football tactics but I’ve seen them recently try to over come a packed defence. Inter did it last season at the San Siro and went four up. They hold the ball in the middle while two, usually three forwards push up onto the opposition back four. Then either a ball is played to feet, back to goal and they look for a one two or more usually one or possibly two of them come a few yards off their marker. The defender then has an invidious choice, If he goes, then he leaves a gap. If he stays, the player is on his own in the danger area between midfield and the back four. Barca vary it by having their attacking full back join in, moving into the space that’s vacated out wide.We could have done that. Not as well as them but we could move like that. Broken things up. Shifted their centre backs out the way. Instead we aimlessly buzzed around the back four like a wasp in the autumn trying to get through a pane of glass. Sad that we bring on a winger, Lennon, who is playing well admittedly, just send over a series of crosses for defenders to head away because our forwards aren’t very big. I’m sad no one noticed that they weren’t very big because it’s clear to me.

Sad that we never learn our lessons. Once again, we begin by not playing well but managing to muddle through. For the first 20 minutes, our defence played as if they had never met before and were terrified by the presence of these strangers. Wild lunges, crazy mix-ups, yawning gaps ripe for exploitation. Yet we muddled through, until once again conceding an avoidable goal. From then on, as against Norwich, Everton, Chelsea, Stoke, it’s an uphill struggle. Once again, we were unlucky with a referee’s decision – Sandro made a brave legal tackle – but Friedel had so much time to see that leisurely freekick loop towards his goal. He seemed transfixed by its progress and his geriatric topple in the general direction of the ball was far too late. He’s been the unobtrusive foundation of our success this year. We should allow him an error becasue he’s made so few, but this one hurts.

Sad that if a side takes its lead from their manager, they are as bewildered and powerless as he is. “I’m not worried about the way we are playing,” says Harry. I don’t get angry with him when he talks like this. Genuinely I don’t believe he thinks through what he’s saying so it has little meaning. The media never challenge their darling so he just caries on. I think I should be angry. Anyone might think his complacency insulting to the loyal fans who can see all to clearly that we have real problems. We lack that edge, making and taking chances, being dangerous for extended periods, breaking down teams, that’s what makes the difference, that’s what he’s not giving us. Contrast the attitude of the QPR players. The manager has given them a shape, they sick to it, it works. That’s the way it should be.

Sad that this, the team that was to take us to glory in style, is falling apart as fast as my dreams. It will further disintegrate come this summer if we fail to reach the Champions League, with no prospect of decent replacements. This wasn’t the fate of this wonderful side. Sad that we’ve conformed to type and can’t hack the pressure. Sad that amongst other fans in London, we’re a laughing stock.

True story. At half-time for the first time in a while I lit our woodburning stove. Open the box with the pile of newspapers and there on the top is the Evening Standard on the day Harry was found not guilty. I screwed up the cover and it went up in smoke. You want symbolism? I’ve got it. Sad that an ordinary side could beat us to easily. Sad that we’re going down without a fight.

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