Spurs v Burnley Preview

September 26, 2009September 26, 2009 / Alan / 1 Comment

In the middle of the icy January of 1984, beleaguered Everton manager Howard Kendall took his struggling Everton team to Oxford for a League Cup tie. Heavily criticised for a lack of success and for wasting precious cash on a series of underperforming stars, defeat meant his job was on the line. Unfashionable Oxford, who had already beaten three Division One teams, led until late in the game when Adrian Heath, one those summer buys, equalised at the death.

Everton went on to the final, narrowly losing to Liverpool, then Kendall took them an FA Cup victory, two Leagues titles and the European Cup Winners Cup. It may sound fanciful to attribute similar significance to Pavyluchenko’s extra time goal away to Burnley last January, but the parallels are striking. Whilst Redknapp was not as vulnerable as Kendall, before that goal went in he looked ashen and shell-shocked, bereft of ideas as a three goal lead evaporated. More to the point, another insipid, naïve performance demonstrated this expensive team’s utter unpreparedness for the relegation battle ahead.

That goal could be seen as the turning point and the modern Burnley as more than a footnote when it comes to writing the history of Tottenham Hotspur in the early 21st century, although our task of climbing to the top of the pile will be harder than that of Everton back in the eighties. From then on, Harry was able to convey successfully his ideas to the players and also understood better their capabilities to battle.

Burnley will also appear as another footnote, this time as our defeated opponents in the 1962 Cup Final. That was before my time, but I was brought up with Burnley as a top division team, a small club with a reputation for playing good football and finding their own talent. In the early 70s players like the cultured midfielder Martin Dobson, Frank Casper, the terrific Welsh winger Leighton James and of course Ralph Coates all caught the eye. Ralph never seemed to be quite as dangerous for us as he was with his first club, a good servant but a case of better as a big fish in a smaller pond.

This modern Burnley is all about hard work, determination and organisation. Their manager Owen Coyle has done an impressive job on scant resources. I like them and wish them well, after today that is, although I might feel different if they had beaten us last January. Watching them on MOTD is like going back in time to an age when football was competitive but somehow more wholesome. Turf Moor is a traditional ground (some might say old-fashioned and pokey but stay with me, nostalgia is turned to ‘on’ and read this with a rose-tinted glow). They still have painted hoardings advertising the local garage and travel agents. I’m sure the sales of minibuses rocket locally with every TV game. Minibus sales?

Although the League Cup is often seen as a chance for the second string to have a run-out, Wednesday’s team selection provided a clear signal that Gomes is our first choice keeper. The centre midfield is once more key, not because of the selection – I expect the pairing of Jenas and Palacios to continue – but because they have to securely protect our defence. Whoever plays there (if fit the back four will be Corluka, Dawson, Bassong and Assou Ekotto), the centre halves will be an unfamiliar combination and, with Corluka and Dawson, the defence is not the quickest. Moreover, we are likely to be doing most of the attacking so must guard against the temptation of being drawn too far forward as a unit. There must always be cover, so this is an opportunity for Wilson to return to his disciplined, controlled form of last season.

Crouch and Defoe must start but Harry will want Keane’s attacking abilities as we use both these and width from Lennon to get round and through Burnley’s well-organised ranks. BAE must get forward too and thoughts of Bale’s crossing could mean we see him at some point today. We must be patient and not panic if we do not score early. There will be periods in the game where Burnley frustrate us, so stick to football and not be tempted into a constant succession of long balls aimed at Crouch. Burnley will score, so Spurs to win a match with several goals.

Spurs v Preston. And Championship Manager

September 23, 2009September 24, 2009 / Alan / 3 Comments

Tempting though it may be to treat the League Cup as light relief after successive matches against top four teams, Preston away is serious business.

The contempt with which this competition is viewed within the game is evidenced by the number of ‘resting’ players this midweek. In the last round, even Doncaster fielded a weakened team, for goodness sake. However, this trophy is a major target for us, never mind the need to reassert our confidence after two substantial defeats, and I advocate a near first choice selection.

I confess I know very little about today’s Preston, although time was when I had a profound insight into the club. Preston were the choice of my son and I in Championship Manager 01. Our success gave the lie to the maxim that you cannot have joint managers. It may not have worked for Curbishley and Gritt at Charlton, but not so many miles from the Valley, two minds were as one.

Why we chose Preston, I’m not entirely clear. Can’t be Spurs, there’s too much of an emotional attachment. It’s bad enough kicking every ball and agonising over every miss every match, let alone putting yourself through that most evenings. Any other Prem team was out of the question, but we were attracted by the challenge of building a team on scant resources, using our football nouse, football people.

And so Preston it was. The board had limited funds and ambition to match, but although the pressure was off, we aimed high. The play-off final was a nadir in my cyber football career. Keeper David Lucas, promoted by us in the latter stages of the season, failed to repay our faith by having a mare. Subbed at halftime, the battle was already lost and even the efforts of our mystery Icelandic striker Porhallsson could not turn the game around. By then of course we had long ditched the football nouse idea – hours scouring the internet found the cheap guys who no one had heard of in real life but who excelled in CM. Press delete and start again.

CM is both an escape from and a mirror of reality. The following season was a triumphant march to the Premiership but once there, we could not buy any decent players and remaining loyal to the existing squad led inexorably to ignominious relegation and the sack. But I forgave them. Over the years curiously I’ve kept up with some of the players who did not feature for us. Paul McKenna (not that one) was a dedicated squad player in CM but in reality stayed for about 10 years and over 400 games before moving on this season to Forest. Richard Cresswell had great stats but did nothing for us, yet he’s flirted with the Prem at several clubs. On the other hand, we brought back ageing full back Graham Alexander as a first team regular and in real life he went on to become an international and scored on Saturday for Burnley. I like to think we can claim a little credit.

Spurs should field a strong team tonight. There are a few positions that might be up for grabs in the long run, so the choice between Gomes and Cudicini could indicate how much Harry rates the Brazilian. This is the moment to bring him in, if that is the plan, but Carlo has done well enough for us. Similarly, with Corluka and Hud the only centre halves available (I’m assuming Bassong will be rested after his bash on Sunday eve though it’s not a serious injury), there’s an opportunity for Hutton to have a run in the team, but again there’s a pointer if Naughton plays.

In centre midfield JJ and WP must anchor the team and up front is Crouch and Defoe for me. This leaves the two wide midfield places. Niko in one and hold Lennon as an impact sub if necessary, so maybe a chance for Bentley (my preferred option) or Gio.

As a postscript, put your hands together for all the Pompey faithful who went to Carlisle last night. That’s being a football supporter. Or insane.

Spurs v Chelsea. Harry Didn’t Help This Time

September 21, 2009September 21, 2009 / Alan / 4 Comments

By the end, the game had become painful viewing, with Chelsea stampeding through our injury-ravaged central defence and insolently swatting our feeble attempts to score. However, such thoughts should not totally obliterate the might-have-beens. Earlier we had severely troubled their much vaunted defence, the best centre half in the league had departed and of course the penalty that was not to be.

Have you noticed that Andy Gray, for all his smug self-satisfied pontificating about refereeing decisions, never gives an opinion without seeing at least two replays? I called it a penalty first time and so it was. It was a crucial moment, as much for the timing as for the prospect of a goal, because frankly we did not look like scoring any other way. Our team does not yet have the inner strength and resilience to lift itself from the doldrums against the quality teams by sheer force. Rather, we need something external, like a penalty or a bit of luck, or maybe a spurt of individual brilliance. Resilience: a word that earlier this season I threatened to return to repeatedly. It’s key and we don’t have enough of it yet. Today, we found no way back.

Harry has to shoulder much of the blame for this one. In my preview I wondered if he may have something up his sleeve to cover the left side problem. When I heard the team, I thought Jenas would be told to do a job there, but it never occurred to me that Palacios was to take on that role. He failed to stop Bosingwa’s runs and left the centre exposed. He’s been the foundation of our teamwork since January, so there was little value in changing the very thing that has made us successful.

Also, it’s all very well Lennon having a roving role – Jol did something similar a couple of years ago away to Chelsea and we went two up before they cottoned on to the tactic. We lost 3-2. However, yesterday sustained width would have stretched our opponents and kept Cole occupied, limiting the freedom to attack that won the game.

In the centre, JJ did well enough but the game passed Hud by. It was all just a bit to quick for him after the first twenty minutes. Keane moved well but penalty apart he had one of his un-coordinated days on the ball. And King, great player though he is, how long can we carry the risk of another breakdown during the match.

In contrast, Chelsea move purposefully as a unit and are just so much more comfortable with each other. For them, walking onto the pitch feels like pulling on a thick jumper from the back of the drawer, well-worn and cosy, whereas we are itching from new wool straight out the packet. Ancelotti has experience at the highest level of world football and the Italian league is harsh and brutal. The way things are going, if the Scudetto is like swimming with piranhas, the Premier League is the dentist’s fishtank in Finding Nemo. Here’s an exclusive Ancelotti team talk: ‘OK, line up like you have over the last couple of years, Ash and Jose move up a bit.’ Top of the league.

Having played United and Chelsea in successive weeks, one glaring difference between them and us is the pace at which the game is played. More about this later in the week, when I have more time to write. In the meantime, I did not want to go the game but to those who did, we heard you loud and clear on TV, terrific support and huge kudos to each and every one of you.

Spurs v Chelsea. Share My Pain

September 19, 2009February 9, 2010 / Alan / 9 Comments

Whatever the result, past glories mean that matches against Manchester United are amongst the most eagerly anticipated of any season. And so, a week later, to the one I most dread, Chelsea away.

My abiding abhorrence of Chelsea dates back to my childhood in west London. In 1967 Chelsea’s’ resurgence took them to the Cup Final and as the bandwagon passed through my primary school playground, it was standing room only. In those days the staple method of showing allegiance or just gathering numbers for a quick kick-about was to place your arms across a mate’s shoulders and march around, chanting the name of the chosen activity. As others joined each end, the line grew longer. Movement was sideways, rather than a prepubescent conga line, so usually some altercations ensued as innocents got in the way. Many kids joined these lines purely for the purpose of inflicting pain on their fellow school mates. Football, country dancing or maypole frolics, who cares when the opportunity to whack a classmate presented itself.

On the Thursday lunchtime before the Cup Final, two lines started, one Chelsea and one Spurs. The Chelsea line gradually became more visible as the chanting increased in volume and attracted more attention. Then the herd effect came into play as the sheep and the psychos linked up with the vocal minority. I guess Goebbels considered similar tactics in the 30s. Within a few short moments, the playground was empty save for one extended line of over a hundred interlocked kids. And five Spurs fans, including me. The phalanx turned by the shelters, with surprising dexterity manoeuvred round the drinking fountains and came towards us, as solid as a Roman legion, a hundred pairs of eyes intent on their prey and the scent of blood in their nostrils.

What happened next was not pleasant, and suffice to say Mr Watson and the school caretaker will forever have my gratitude for stubbing out their sly fags and rushing from the back of the kitchens to rescue us. However, come Monday morning, I would have my revenge. I planned the moment carefully, from about 5pm on the Saturday in fact , I thought about little else, apart that is from when I was endlessly recreating Frank Saul’s winner in the back yard. In the end, I decided against glorious triumphalism, accompanied by loud chanting, flags and finger pointing, not really me. No, I went for smug, profound satisfaction. Eye contact yes, the knowing smile, merely a questioning raised eyebrow. ‘Was there a game on Saturday?’ Secure in the knowledge that as just about the only Spurs fan to openly come out of closet, all eyes would be me, I strolled into the playground on Monday morning, my scarf discreetly visible over the collar of my green blazer, a bright and breezy air with all the joys of spring.

Nothing. Not a thing. Every scenario that the mind of an impressionable 11 year old could conceive had been meticulously rehearsed. Each jibe would be parried by a devastatingly witty riposte followed swiftly by a telling stabbing thrust of my own, right into the heart. ‘All right Fish?’ was the closest I got to any football related conversation. Never mind; for the rest of the week, in the playground games I was Jimmy Robertson, little did they know.

Of course they had all melted away, to next year become QPR fans, as our other local team reached Wembley. Amidst the scuffed leather and dust of playground concrete, I learned a lasting lesson about football. Mine was a true, everlasting passion.

I suspect that the modern crop (or should that be plague?) of Chelsea will be as loyal as my schoolmates, their bonds to the club as temporary as the lunchbreak line. When the Russian gets bored or ends up on a gulag, or this aging team breaks up, as the Park Lane taunted a couple of years ago: ‘Next year, you’ll support Man U”.

Not entirely fair. There are two distinct types of Chelsea fan, pre and post Abramovich, whose attitudes are so disparate, it often sounds as if they support different teams. Most BA fans (Before Abramovich) enjoy their success, justifiably so, sometimes with a little guilt and always grateful for the good times. Because they have been through the rough as well as the smooth, they have a sense of perspective. They are easy to identify because you can have a conversation about football with them.

Some have become disillusioned and alienated as the character of their club has changed beyond recognition. One long-standing Chelsea mate of mine is always up for a bit of banter but at the same time he feels more cut off from his club than ever before. Once a regular visitor to the bridge, he now takes his kids a few times a year, preferring to have a season ticket at his local non-league team, Welling United, where he is welcomed and is part of things.

On the other hand, Chelsea AD fans (Abramovich the Deity) are the most loathsome, arrogant bunch I have ever come across in the 40 years that I have watched football on a regular basis. The divine right of 18^th century French kings to rule as the instrument of God on earth has nothing in comparison with the hubris of these people. Utter superiority is their birthright. Success is a given. History starts in the early 21^st century. Before then, the football world was a primordial soup.

Callers to 606 are perhaps not the most accurate cross-section of the fans of any club, and goodness knows some Spurs idiots have rung up over the years, but the righteous indignation of 2 Chelsea AD fans who rang last season stays with me. One from the Chelsea AD heartlands (Bournemouth) was troubled by his team’s performance. They had only won 5-0. The ‘only’ was his word, not mine. The other lambasted his manager and his squad, rubbish. They were only third. Their manager, 10 games into his job, was not worthy of the post. He had only won the World Cup. The ‘only’ was his word, not mine. Both meant it wholeheartedly, because they really do not know any different.

This supercilious superiority, reflected also in the behaviour of several of their players, creates the most unpleasant atmosphere of the season. I have no intention of going anywhere near the Bridge, and significantly neither does my son who travels all over the country, yet after a couple of years of insults and goading is going to give this one a miss. Chelsea have banned us from bringing flags with the word ‘yid’ but they will not take action when their ghastly fans make with the anti-semitism and the gas noises. Maybe they wish to gas their owner, who knows. Whatever we think about them, you don’t get that with the Arse.

And so to the match itself. We cannot afford the luxury of an attacking formation, like the one against United, and Keane cannot play in midfield. On the other hand, we must not sit back and let them come to us. In other circumstances, Crouch would be a useful target man to hold the ball up as we move from predominantly defensive posture into attack, but with Defoe, who must start, this would mean two up front with potential weakness in the centre of the pitch.

Therefore, I reckon Keane will start with Defoe and drop back into midfield when we lose possession. Jenas must be given a run in midfield alongside Wilson, and Wilson must stay on his feet more. Chelsea’s diamond means we must carefully cover the space in front of our back four. Equally, they are vulnerable to width – please welcome Aaron Lennon! He must stay wide and attack on the flanks but track back on Cole. He’s in for a tough afternoon and that’s where the game could be won or lost.

On the left, Niko looks the most likely but he is seriously unfit. I wonder if Harry is considering a tactical masterstroke by playing someone out of position to cover over there. Will Bentley appear to seek salvation?