Paul Gascoigne and the Ultimate Taboo

March 12, 2010June 6, 2010 / Alan / 10 Comments

Gazza on my mind this week. No real reason. A home tie to take us to Wembley, can’t complain about the semi-final draw and Liverpool’s ability to find a banana skin more often than Charlie Chaplin have all contributed to a sense of ease and relaxation. So the mind wanders back to past glories, and in modern times there are few more glorious than Paul Gascoigne. And as is the way with these things, I’ve not been looking but Gazza has found me, with a great story from Daveyboy in the comments section of my last article, Morris Keston gives him a mention on twitter and then there he is in the book I’m reading.

A Man Who Looks Like Danny Baker. From the Site http://menwholooklikedannybaker.com. You Couldn't Make It Up

I’ve been a big fan of Danny Baker for many years. Not quite in the league of Kennedy’s assassination or Princess Di’s death but I vividly recall the first time I heard his radio show. On a bleary eyed Saturday morning, making breakfast for the kids, wife at work and no chance of football, the mindless banality of Capital Radio would provide scant diversion from the drudgery of breakfast and the washing up, but it was the best I could come up with. Turning the dial, Robert Cray’s upbeat blues ‘Smoking Gun’ ripped from the radio and I hung around to see who on earth was playing this stuff. From then I’ve followed the fabulous Baker boy around the airwaves. Many times I’ve had to pull over because I’ve been laughing so much but his sense of the absurd and relaxed freeflowing presentation masks an effortless mastery of the medium of radio. Now he’s back at 606, a show he originated and was then dismissed from because he not entirely seriously suggested that aggrieved fans may wish to beat a path to the door of a certain referee. In reality this was the excuse because it was clear his face didn’t fit – on 606 he wanted to talk about things other than Fergie’s latest press conference or whether that was a penalty after 37 replays. Like things you had confiscated at the turnstiles or unusual places to play football.

His knockabout style and apparent lack of a coherent career plan (at BBC London he works on a handshake rather than a contract) hides his status as an insightful and shrewd observer of popular culture, especially football and pop music. His 2 hours on BBC London on the day after Michael Jackson’s death, where without a script he reminiscenced around his time in LA before, during and after his NME interview with Jackson back in the 80s, the last major independent interview with him, was touching, funny and honest, and said more about Jackson than the sum of all the tosh that overwhelmed the media for weeks after.

His latest book Baker and Kelly – Classic Football Debates, written with Paxton Road stalwart Danny Kelly, was certain to find its way into my Christmas stocking. Someone would put two and two together as they wandered round the bookshop ten minutes before closing on December 24th, when Waterstones is jam packed with desperate punters scooping up any offering that possessed a connection with loved ones for whom they could not think of anything that they would really want. It’s a bit like the aunt who every year gives you the latest Westlife album, because one Saturday round at hers, squirming with embarrassment at Celebrity Idol Factor on Ice, your morale squashed as flat as a Kraft cheese slice run over by a steamroller, you thought it would keep everyone happy by saying that parts of the chorus were ‘quite nice’. Quite nice. How inoffensive and non-committal is that. It implies that your nervous system was closed down totally save for a pulse sufficient to lift one eyelash a fraction of a millimetre. But to your aunt, it indicates undying appreciation of their irish might, to be rewarded each and every Christmas with their latest offering.

The only question with the Baker and Kelly book was not if I would receive one but how many. In the event, it was only a single copy (but four THFC 2010 calendars….). It’s a largely disappointing effort, an erratic mix of funny anecdotes, rehashed phone-in material that does not translate well to the page and fillers, all of which stinks of money for old rope. Even the print is spread wide apart so as to reach the end of the 300 pages without undue effort. But there are several gems, one of which is an eye-witness account of Gazza’s infamous spree in London. Stuck in traffic, Gazza cannot sit still so he jumps out the cab and commandeers a London bus, complete with passengers, which he then drives round the Marble Arch roundabout. Leaping out, he spots some workmen and while he cadges a fag, digs a hole in the road with a pneumatic drill. Baker and friend Chris Evans look on as he reaches their destination, a media awards ceremony to which he had not been invited, via a Bentley that he flagged down at the lights – the elderly couple in the back were only too glad to help. This was front page news at the time, with Gazza and his drinking pals both celebrated and simultaneously castigated by the tabloids in the ways that only they know.

Baker maintains that they were not drunk but the redtops were determined to imply otherwise. The bottles in the photo (not from the book) are water but that’s

Baker, Evans and a Mystery Man in Disguise

not the story that the tabs want. But the most touching element of this story is the public’s reaction to Gazza – everybody loved him. People from different backgrounds felt good just to see him. They cheered him wherever he went, went along with his fun (and it was all fun to him) and he made them feel better. Everyone felt they knew him, sharing jokes, shouting hallo, wishing him well. For his part, he could talk to anyone and stopped to give them all the time of day. No PR, no manufactured celebrity status, just Gazza.

Gascoigne was loved by the people, genuinely and unashamedly so, in a manner that may never be repeated. Pre-Sky, this was a time when players were not so tainted by their riches as they are now, separated and aloof from their fans. If Rooney wins us the World Cup, he would not be able to set foot outside the front door without a phalanx of bodyguards and PR people, and the sad thing is, he may not wish to.

Baker’s affectionate tribute to his friend opens our eyes to one side of his personality but obscures another, the demons that have driven him to the bottom of the deepest abyss. He touches upon the reasons driving Gascoigne on, his restlessness, the need to fight off a boredom that would engulf him when, finally, there were no more highs to sustain him: “The brighter his star shone the more its inevitable collapse into a black hole haunted him.”

It’s a powerful image of impending doom touching even the most exciting crazy moments but it does not look the real problem in the face: Paul Gascoigne suffers from a serious mental health problem. This is not criticism of the man, how can it be, it’s an illness, nor does it belittle any of his achievements on the pitch. If anything it makes them even more miraculous, given that they were performed under such duress. Gascoigne according to his autobiography was a restless, distracted and hyperactive child whose obsessive behaviour was under control but manifested itself later in life as the pressure eroded his coping mechanisms. He saw a therapist of some sort once as a child but never returned. Baker remarks on how Gazza was constantly talking and narrating his day, reminding himself of what was happening to him as a means of calming himself down.

Gascoigne MOTD2, 2009, in Optimistic Mood

Later, when football no longer sustained him, the drinking, depression and self-abuse took hold. The week long drinking binges by messrs Baker, Evans and Gascoigne are a myth, says Danny, and the London escapade ended with Gazza on Baker’s sofa, chatting with the family as they watched TV. However, he was supposed to be in his log cabin in the remote Scottish hills, which was the bolt hole and place of safety that his manager at the time, Walter Smith, had sorted out. Now we see a pallid and broken man, going through the motions and blank behind the eyes, struggling to rehabilitate himself.

Danny Baker has written an eloquent and insightful piece about the Gazza he knows, which says so much about the man and yet skirts round the one unmentionable in modern football. Sex, alcohol, drugs and infidelity are all open to debate, but one subject remains taboo: mental health. We can’t talk about it. The man suffers, yet he’s given offers to manage a football team or to get back into coaching, or to be a TV celebrity. I heard a rumour that he was going into Celebrity Big Brother and I swear I would have chucked in my job and set up a protest camp outside the studios. We fear mental health problems but they are just that, health problems. Let’s have some honesty about the pressures of modern football and talk more openly about their effect on vulnerable people. Show compassion to sufferers and offer sympathy and treatment. Above all, give them realism – don’t ask too much. The people around Gazza need to look after him. Gazza made us happy, now let’s care for him. A true Tottenham great, we owe him.

Fulham v Spurs. Back to the Lane

March 7, 2010 / Alan / 10 Comments

So it’s back to the Lane next week, as I predicted in my preview. This in itself in unusual, getting something right in the preview that is, but there was always something about this fixture that screamed ‘draw’. Fulham are busy and well-organised but low scorers, Spurs more creative but since the four goals in the Cup we can’t quite do enough at the Cottage to score one more than them. And that’s the match summary, right there. We played well but lacked the cutting edge to make sufficient decent chances, Fulham had less of the ball but kept Gomes moving around without having the sharpness in the box, where it counts.

Following Harry’s remarks earlier this week that we can’t play 4-5-1, Spurs duly lined up with Crouch and Pav up front in the absence of Defoe. The pattern of the game was drawn by Fulham withdrawing their midfield into an area 30 or 40 yards in front of their goal when we had possession. Willingly we came on to them and moved the ball around well for the most part, searching for an opening, although at times we could have done so more swiftly. Modric was prominent in the early stages and had a good game. He’s made for that central berth. Always trying to make himself available and able to pass both long and short, able to pass quickly or hold it as the situation demands, he’s never on the ball for any longer than is necessary. It was noticeable how seldom he was caught in possession, and for that matter the same can be said for his team-mates, a sure sign that the support for the man on the ball was good throughout the team.

Crouch also had a fine first half, although he faded later. Two reasons; one, he stayed close to his team-mates rather than isolating himself further upfield as he has done too often this season. Two: decent service. We played it up to him early, accurately and firmly. No aimless hoofs, Crouchie kept moving and responded in kind with quicker lay-offs. This blog has always said that he could play like this and has become increasingly irritated by his performances over the last few months, but there’s evidence here to show that the long ball may have been imposed upon the team tactically by the manager, worrying in itself but that seems to be history now so we’ll let that one go for the moment. TOMM doesn’t forget, however….now there’s a threat to set Harry twitching, just watch him next time he’s in the dugout, you’ll see what I mean….

One of the sub-plots of the match was the comparison between the two big centre-forwards. Earlier this season I was somewhat disparaging about Zamora in my preview of the corresponding league fixture but yesterday as time went on he came into the match as Crouch disappeared from view. He’s come to terms with his limitations and under Hodgson’s wise guidance has become an effective target man, determined with his back to goal and looking to come on to the ball in the box. His team work well around him and he provides that extra second or two that enables the Fulham midfield to get to him and turn defence into attack. He provided Bassong with a stern test but for the most part Seb did well. As with the Bolton centre forward in the replay, Bassong was determined not to let his man turn. It was a fine tussle, which also provided a nice piece of commentary (not sure I’ve ever written that sentence before in regard to ITV…). Beglin rightly enthused about Zamora’s surge and shot in the second half, talking about how he put it across the keeper. Clive came in, quietly and dryly: ‘It’s gone for a throw-in.’

And that sums up much of Fulham’s efforts in the box, they didn’t quite come off, but in the first half they seldom approached our area, let alone the goal. I’m a big fan of Roy Hodgson and he had prepared well. His midfield were prepared to concede possession but not space in front of their box. We had the ball but no room. So it became a series of almosts and might have beens as our attempts nearly came off but not quite. Also, Roy put two men on Bale, something that he had better get used to. It’s easier to mark him when he’s in midfield because he starts his runs from further up the pitch. At fullback he comes from deeper and so is more difficult to pick up. Also, he can move later in an attack when defenders are already more committed. Despite this he coped reasonably well and occupied two men. If Duff is back, his attacking prowess is blunted, whihc in turn releases pressure on us. Modric picked up on this and switched play regularly to the right. However, Corluka had a poor game. He became the spare man and was the main target but his distribution was inaccurate with a series of wasteful crosses and passes. This to me was a crucial element of the match, we failed to take advantage of the spare man and amount of ball on the right that we had worked hard to achieve.

Fulham steadfastly reused to budge. We prompted and probed but did not really get very far. Pav worked hard but did not get past the white-shirted barrier. His control let him down too often, especially in the area. Again, like the Corluka comments, this was a match that might have been won and lost on the tiniest margins, so this mattered.

The second half began much as the first had ended. Fulham livened up a bit but did not really look like the home team until they went 4-4-2 towards the end. They slid the ball inside and behind our full-backs and if Murphy had been playing, his shrewd passing might have been significant. We were defending well and I wondered if this could give us the room to hit them on the break but it was not to be. Our solidity was due to in large part to Palacios’ determined sentry duty in front of our back four. He refused to budge, something that I’ve advocated throughout the season and again in the preview, and his disciplined performance was justifiably rewarded with a MOM award. He repeatedly broke up the Fulham movements and knocked it out to a better placed colleague. This strength enabled Modric and Krancjar to play their more creative game (I was pleased with Niko’s work-rate too) and really gives the team shape.

Other bits and pieces: BAE was quietly efficient, his brainstorm clearance in the second half aside. He just gets on with it, and I like it. We failed to capitalise on the corners because of bad delivery, and the same can be said for the long throws – Bale can do it so can’t we have a system to profit from it, as Stoke do, rather than have a loose informal gathering in the box as is the case now.

We have a great chance for a cup semi-final in the replay. We could have won it yesterday with more punch up front but on the whole a decent performance, credit Fulham with being an effective team in their chosen role.

Finally, a moan. The warm and respectful gesture to wear black armbands in memory of Keith Alexander was tainted by our use of black shiny gaffer tape. It smacks of hasty preparation. We should have put more into that – how long would it have taken to run something proper up, as our opponents managed.

Fulham v Spurs. Shuffle the Pack

March 5, 2010March 6, 2010 / Alan / 4 Comments

My last post has been so well received, I’ve finally found the level of my audience – urine and toilets. So that’s the future for TOMM…

Back to football and our vital cup quarter final away to Fulham. Something new to preview this week, an injury crisis. One day you’re knee deep in midfielders (oh dear, straying too close to yesterday’s toilet gags), next you can’t find one for looking. This weekend we may be able to judge the degree of success achieved by the policy of farming out youngsters to the lower leagues, rather than nurturing them in the reserves, now non-existent. Jake Livermore has some experience and is muscular, eager and athletic enough to warrant serious consideration for the centre midfield berth left vacant as Hud rests and JJ recovers from his groin operation.

But it is a risk, away from home against a redoubtable Fulham team who have overcome a recent blip and won their last four matches, including a fine two leg victory over the Europa Cup holders, no mean achievement. Yet the alternatives carry some risk too. Modric and Kranjcar have both played in the middle. Modric looks most comfortable there; he likes to be involved and the team plays better when he’s on form and on the ball. However, his presence could leave us weak defensively. He showed last Sunday that he’s not afraid of hard work and can put his foot in when it matters but he could be over-run by Fulham’s industrious and canny midfield.

Everything revolves around this selection. Livermore could mean the Croatian duo can maintain their balance on the right and left and give Modric a fraction more room on the left. Disruption is minimal. Modric will mean experience and greater creativity. And that’s what I would go for. Luka can handle himself and WP must hang back to shield the back four. Just don’t move, Wilson.

Next problem: up front. Defoe is ‘doubtful’. By the strict meaning of the word, he’s unlikely to play but I suspect that in football speak it translates as – he has a bit of a knock but Harry thinks he’s fit enough. Or maybe it means nobody knows until tomorrow teatime. I think he’ll start, a feeling with no basis in evidence whatsoever. If he’s not fit, it’s tempting to consider Gudjohnsen. His game is to drop deeper and link the midfield and the frontmen, handy if we need some help further back. But he’s not on his game. At all. The ‘game’ passed him by completely on Sunday.

Meanwhile, just when I turned my back for a split second, Crouch has become a nailed on world cup certainty and in the top twenty all-time England scorers. I had to work late on Wednesday and now look what has happened. Never again. There must be a better big striker in England. What’s that? Oh, well, apparently there isn’t. So that’s that then. Pav obviously, and if no Defoe it’s Crouch for me. Pav’s renaissance began when he played off PC at Bolton. On condition that we don’t wang the ball forward. Deal?

Finally, that leaves left midfield. Bale is also doubtful, whatever it means, but if fit he could fill on the left with BAE behind him. This is what our big squad is for and we should be able to cope, but if Wilson gets booked, the resulting suspension could cost us dear next week. Worry about that after Saturday, because this match demands our full and complete attention. Fulham will be hard to beat but here is a golden chance to progress towards a cup final. We must be positive and take the game to our opponents. Whatever the personnel it’s what we do best. Spurs after a replay.

The Great White Hart Lane Hot Water Scandal – We’re The Posh Side, We’re The Posh Side Tott-en-ham

March 5, 2010March 5, 2010 / Alan / 8 Comments

It all started one fateful evening. Deep in the shadows a man lifted his collar to shield against the biting wind and pulled his hat low over his eyes. Bloodshot red from exhaustion, his steely glint was the tell-tale betrayal of his determination. Soon his long vigil would pay dividends. Suddenly the woman came towards him, a blonde smouldering in the light of the flickering streetlamp…

He Used To Have a Season Ticket, You Know

Actually it was my mate Debs. Forsaking her usual spot in the Park Lane, she joined us on the Shelf for the Fulham game and a pleasant evening was had by all. We are used to her teasing about ‘us posh lot’ in the east stand, although this is frankly hard to imagine on the approach to the venerable old stand, weaving our way through the piles of horse dung and in through the rickety turnstiles. The upper concourse is a decent place to relax pre-match. It used to be carpeted but that is long gone, replaced by regulation Tottenham blue over concrete. It’s clean, tidy and spacious but nothing special. Debs was mesmerised by the exotic delights of a bagel, a culinary delight from the East that has not yet travelled as far south as the Park Lane, but the real revelation came a few minutes later when she returned from the ladies.

‘Hot water. You’ve got hot water. Bloody posh here!’

It’s 2010 and hot water should not be too much of a luxury in this day and age, but there’s none in the South Stand. There’s certainly none in the gents either. In case this was a freak occurrence, last Sunday I forced my daughter into the ladies – us ace reporters always check our sources. She didn’t want to go but I suggested that it’s usually a good idea, just in case. She gave me a withering look: ‘That worked when I was 6, dad, but now I’m 22.’

Being a fan from way back, I was brought up on such rudimentary toilet facilities, I’m grateful for anything where I don’t have to queue for ten minutes or roll my trouser legs up before entering. The old Wembley was the worst. The gents were often an inch deep in urine and the ladies were lucky to have, well, ladies. So Spurs are pretty good, there’s quite a few and the towels don’t run out until 15 minutes before kick off. However, Spurs are a multi-million pound business, the 15th richest in the world according to figures released this week, paying millions to their pampered celebrity staff plus a decent whack to shareholders, and charging us the fans through the nose. Yet they can’t provide hot water.

Another friend of mine has contacted the club about this, or, as he sits in the West Stand, probably got his valet to do so after he tore off the ticket stub for him at the gate, brushed down the seat and delivered a cup of delicious powdered coffee and milk on a silver salver. Sadly I’m not able to quote the inspired rant in full as the correspondence with the club continues. Suffice to say that as a life long fan he is accustomed to the problems of traffic, nowhere to park, changing kick-off times, even the ludicrous salaries to players. He admits that like me, he’s hooked, so he pays one of the highest ticket prices in the country, if not quite willingly. But the straw that broke the camel’s back is: there is no hot running water. Although it is basic hygiene to be able to wash with warm water and soap (Swine flu anyone? Vomiting virus? Come right this way.), the real point is that this is symptomatic of the way the club treats its loyal supporters. It’s fair to assume that the boardroom has hot water, as do the executive boxes. We pay, they know we will pay, so why give us anything back? They can’t be arsed.

One Like This!

To emphasise his point, he received an automated E-mail promising a reply after 5 days but of course heard nothing, so he’s reminded them and to be fair they are corresponding regularly now. The club points to the undoubted improvements at the Lane over the years and will ensure that the problem will be repaired as a matter of urgency. So it has presumably come as a surprise to them to know that in their own stadium, the stadium they run and maintain, actually there are no hot water taps.

The missing hot water is by design, not accident. In the week that Portsmouth fans face the loss of their club and the League rules that Leeds fans must accept that their owners have passed the ‘fit and proper’ test without being able to be told who those owners are, the Great White Hart Lane Hot Water Scandal is small beer. But in its own way, it’s the perfect example of the relationship between the fans and the club. Us and them. Not only do they not provide hot water, they don’t even know that there is no hot water and have designed a stadium that does not provide it. It’s a massive gulf, one that creates increasing bitterness amongst supporters. They take us for granted, and we deserve better. Our loyalty deserves better.