Spurs Cult Heroes – Out Now!

March 5, 2010 / Alan / Leave a comment

Tottenham On My Mind’s fellow blogger All Action No Plot has a new book out this weekend with the enticing title ‘Spurs Cult Heroes’.

If the book is as good as the blog, it promises to be a cracking read. Here’s a completely non-exclusive excerpt from the back dust cover. Oh yes.

The Front Cover. Obviously

Tottenham Hotspur Football Club has been blessed with more than its fair share of wonderful and entertaining players in its long and illustrious history. From goalscorers such as 1901 FA Cup-winning hotshot Sandy Brown through sixties goal-getter supreme Jimmy Greaves to 1990s saviour Jürgen Klinsmann, glamour has always been part of being idolised at Spurs. But so too has being something of a controversial maverick. Fake-boob wearing Gazza was as daft as a brush. The sublimely-skilled Glenn Hoddle was ignored by England, while Argentinean imports Ossie Ardiles and Ricky Villa both became embroiled in controversy surrounding the Falklands War.

In Spurs’ Cult Heroes, Michael Lacquiere tells the remarkable tale of the club’s 20 greatest fans’ icons and discovers the true stories about exactly what double-winning Dave Mackay said to Billy Bremner whilst grabbing him round the throat, which legend dented the FA Cup in post-match celebrations, why Gazza once turned up to training plastered in GBP50 notes and whether David Ginola’s acting career was worth it. Not to mention the debate about why hairstyles play such an important part in being adored at Spurs.

Want more? Of course you do. Available from all good book stores (for some reason that’s a phrase that I’ve always wanted to write) and we have a copy for you to win, thanks to the generosity of AANP. Check out TOMM next week for our easy to enter competition. If I can think of something.

And can I say that All Action No Plot is a great name for a Spurs blog – thanks. There’s a link to your right and if you are drooling for more and can’t wait until tomorrow, read excerpts from the foreword now. My spell check says that this is how you spell ‘Argentinian’ but what do I know?

All the very best with it Michael – I know it has been a labour of love.

Always On My Mind: Stories of Football Obsession. Waiting For Adriana.

March 3, 2010March 3, 2010 / Alan / 4 Comments

“One stop darling, one stop away”.

Adriana is still chatting in the office. I console myself that a lesser person would be affronted, especially the time she was an hour and a half late because she had been listening to the end of Woman’s Hour, but she always arrives in the end. I’ll wait.

The busy tube station is filling up. It’s near the enemy’s ground on European night. I take refuge from the hustle in my reflections on the day, my sanctuary since childhood. People at odds with each other end it a little closer. On the way out of the meeting, the young man brushes past me and turns unexpectedly. There’s a disarming softening of eyes hardened by suspicion of adults, much of it sadly justified: ‘You know what I mean. You’re all right’. I start to reiterate something I said earlier, about how I see the good in in him, if only he could, but he’s half-way down the street by now.

My mood changes as the flow of supporters becomes a flood disgorged by the escalators, spilling out into the dark and intruding upon my reverie. Groups of people laughing and families clustering close in their excitement, but I start to feel uneasy. I stare into faces and see only blank faithless souls, lost and wandering. This is not right, not right at all.

How could you? This of all teams. How could you? What catastrophic lapse of judgement led you here? Others who are not part of this evening’s ritual wait with their free papers and frequent expectant glances. They welcome new arrivals with a kiss and pair off into the street lights. Yet I am distinctly uncomfortable, even though I stand anonymous in my grey suit, and involuntarily shrink further into the shadows.

A sour-faced former manager of mine once marched up to me after a conference and said, ‘The trouble with you is that you see the good in everyone’, before turning on her heel. In her rudeness I was damned with faint praise but she was right, for once. Yet now these colours distort my perceptions and banish any generosity of spirit. All I see is smug arrogance. You’re not the same as me.

Adriana emerges from the throng, upright and poised. She grips my elbow. “Do I look Japanese? Do I?” With her I am used to being wrongfooted but this has me flummoxed.

“Is it my hat?”

I mumble something about not knowing what a Japanese hat looks like. She explains that a man jumped out of a taxi and asked her if she was Japanese, or on holiday, and would she like to see the photos in the gallery opposite, or like a drink? Although I can move through London without any acknowledgement or intimacy from my fellow travellers, Adriana long ago lost this ability.

“What is it about me?” She gazes intently at me in search of an answer. My throat tightens. I catch my breath and gulp in some air. “Come on” and we move rapidly towards a waiting bus, dodging the crowds as we go. “The train was really crowded” she says, “Is there something happening?” I begin a reply but think better of it. I have to get away. “‘We can eat later” is my response to her puzzled expression but she acquiesces. The bus pulls away sharply and we tumble together into a seat. I sigh. I’ll calm down in a few minutes. Some feelings are hard to explain.

Spurs v Everton. A Game to Savour, At the Final Whistle That Is…

March 1, 2010March 1, 2010 / Alan / 9 Comments

If only home life and work did not get in the way of blogging, the world would be a better place….

So having entertained a group of fellow professionals from the Czech Republic today, which in the process developed my skill of looking really quite absorbed as someone gabbles away at you for five minutes in a foreign language, (‘look, I’ll make a cup of coffee and pop back when it’s the interpreter’s turn. OK?’) it’s only now that there is time for a few thoughts on the match yesterday, less match report and more postscript.

It’s over now and I just want to say – what a fabulous game. On the way home, the 5Live reporter at the Sunderland – Fulham match was less than enthralled with the spectacle in front of him and commented disparagingly about the Premier League being the so-called best in the world. All I can say is that he would have taken a different view if he had been at the Lane. Spurs divine first half performance was in danger of being wasted as Everton came back into things, usually courtesy of a Spurs error, but at times it was frenetic end to end play with that classic British mixture of endeavour and skill. Heart in the mouth stuff at both ends, with great goals, unbelievably crass misses, fizzing shots, passes that were beautifully crafted and vulgar fouls. The end product for the fan was complete involvement, total and utter. After all these years. there is simply nothing like that feeling of playing every ball, shouting gibberish instructions to players 70 yards away who cannot possibly hear you and all parts of the ground leaping up to dispute refereeing decisions in their area of the pitch.

The greatest feeling of all is emerging into Worcester Avenue, with its penetrating drizzle and carpet of horse-dung, and going home a winner. And it’s only then when reflections on the game itself are possible because Spurs, being Spurs, had both won and then almost lost the same match. At times we were hanging on by our fingernails, or more accurately on at least one occasion, by Gomes’ fingernails. No enjoyment there, when the next mistake was possibly seconds away, when Palacios passes unaccountably straight to Pienaar or the admirable Dawson allows his anxiety at his lack of pace to cloud his judgement and trick him into a doomed attempt at an interception. The neutral may have thoroughly enjoyed the second half but we fans most certainly did not. Good football? Enjoy? No, no idea what you mean.

If we had lost or even drawn, it would have been a bitter blow not so much because of the points dropped in the struggle for fourth but because it would have tarnished the memory of that sumptuous first half display. Rich in inventiveness and sublime in execution, our movement and passing was breathtaking. Huddlestone’s 50 yard pass perfectly into Defoe’s stride, taken down with the precision of a diamond cutter and then the beautiful effortless ball rolled across the box. It was done with both swiftness and great care. Pav’s movement was a threat while he was on the pitch but Tom’s pass deserves repeated viewing.

And then we topped it. Modric, lovely Luca, on the ball and pass, move and pick it again, pass it on, there for more, into space and the ball at feet again, one side to the other, dictating the shape and pace of the game and everyone around him, defenders in thrall to the simplicity of it all, pass and move, pass and move. Then the thrust, the time right, clean, quick and deadly. A genuinely stunning moment.

A brilliant goal from an outstanding footballer. Not a perfect game yesterday but a dazzling performance, full of purposeful movement, astute passing and total involvement. His effort could not be faulted and he made his fair share of tackles. Harry allowed him to come inside in search of the ball. He can overload their midfield and with Bale rampaging down the wing there’s no need to worry about a lack of width. Soon after the start Everton shifted Osman over to mark him but that was frankly a waste of time. You can’t mark a man of his quality out of the match.

It was as good a first half as I can recall. No need to state the obvious once again, that the team look so much more comfortable with the passing game that Pav’s presence encourages. Crouch is ungainly at the best of times but when he came on, in contrast he looked as gawky as a newborn foal. And that’s not even mentioning the Russian’s goals. Defoe held the ball up well, which is unusual for him, and Hudd had a good game. In addition to That Pass, he trundled around to good effect in front of the back four, sweeping up as he went. You don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone, and how we missed him as he went off injured, a huge man almost too big for the stretcher. Kaboul did surprisingly well in his defensive role – he’s certainly very mobile and his postioning was good, given the role is unfamiliar. However, he could not support the strikers, witness that ball that ran invitingly along the edge of the Everton box shortly after he came on, one for Hud’s shot but Kaboul looked on from 20 yards away. Nor could he find them with passes. A deputy for WP in the future, though.

Everton’s tactical change made by pushing Hietinga forward allowed them more attackers and gave Arteta room to start all their movements. They played to their strengths: Yakubu has lost his pace but not his strength. He’s a brute of a man to handle with his back to goal and ball played to feet. We could have screened the back four better by cutting off his supply from the ever able Arteta but Daws was strong and tall. For the most part we coped well with their efforts but the self-inflicted pain casued by the mistakes mentioned above could have hurt us even more by the end: Donovan’s obliging and glaring miss helped us out. Watching the highlights, no one seems to have mentioned that Gomes was fouled on the line by Anechebe (I think) as the ball came over for their goal. He moved Gomes out of the way without going for the ball at all. Dawson and Bassong won many headers and once again Daws’ enthusiastic blocks are almost as inspiring as a goal.

Bale was once more superb. Those runs are fast becoming impossible to stop and have done much on their own to lift us from the doldrums of the beginning of the year. He remains one of the best prospects in the league. I’m so impressed with the way he has learned as he has come back into the team. His concentration is much better now. Defensively he still has work to do, but he is just so exciting to watch right now.

Spurs v Bolton. Our Saviour Cometh

February 25, 2010February 25, 2010 / Alan / 5 Comments

Couldn’t get on WordPress this morning, so here is the delayed report. Just so you know, I got up early for this….

Thanks to everyone who popped down to Pav’s Cafe in Westgate yesterday in response to my match preview. I wasn’t able to make it myself, work commitments, you know how these things go. If I could, I would have, but the prayers of the pilgrims did not go unheeded. Our Saviour returned to the Lane and all is well in this troubled land. If a few loaves and fishes should be on hand on Sunday….Mind you, knowing Spurs, I’m certain they would charge £6 per loaf.

Pavlyuchenko’s first goal settled any lingering nerves after a sedate opening in which Bolton had a surprising amount of space in front of our box. From the very beginning, Ricketts anxiously followed Modric’s every move. Clearly Coyle identified him as our danger man. Luka came in search of the ball as his colleagues had until then largely left him peace. He moved forward with purpose and delivered a penetrative pass to Pav, who turned and slotted the ball home, his natural finisher’s instincts flooding back as the shot nestled into the corner. Right behind the line, it was one of those that you knew was in as soon as it left his foot, the perfect judgement of a class player.

Afterwards Ricketts remonstrated with the referee and with some justification – we won possession only after Luka had blocked him off the ball but the indiscretion went unnoticed. This ref was odd – he didn’t want to blow his whistle. Only 8 free kicks in the entire match, refreshing in many ways, not least because the result depended on open play rather than rehearsed training ground moves, I suspect Ricketts was not congratulating him on his generosity.

This showed also the character of the game, pleasant and enjoyable (for Spurs fans) without the bite and bile of a cup tie. Bolton moved the ball well but ineffectually. Coyle’s coaching abilities are evident in the ease with which he has transformed his team’s style but with nothing much up front their good work was wasted. Bassong hindered their casue with an excellent first half display to mark their pivot Klasnic out of the game. We know about Bassong’s pace on recovery but here he steadfastly refused to allow his opponent to turn or to have a clean touch.

After Pav’s opener the result was never in doubt. Another fine ball from Modric gave a Defoe a good chance but more goals were certain. Bale revelled in the space and evaded the attentions of the two defenders ahead of him with his darting, incisive strikes and excellent early crossing. Not all worked but as a sign of his ever-growing maturity he varied the final ball, at times picking out a man rather than going for the far post ball. However, the second came from the opposite flank. Hud shaped to shoot but preferred to precisely lay the ball to Palacios. He in turn used the time at his disposal to deliver a great near post ball. I credited Defoe with a fine finish but in fact in the tangle of legs Jaaskelainen did the job for us.

Bale was not to be out-done and his low near post cross was turned in by O’Brien. Although both could have been avoided, we are pressuring defences with hard, accurate balls delivered into the danger areas from on or near the byline. Without Crouch, the long balls have suddenly disappeared, unless you count the succession of excellent passes over distance from Huddlestone. This is Pav’s real contribution. His movement encourages others to play and to keep passing. In order to make this work, we must of necessity retain possession and be more creative. Wigan and Bolton put us under little pressure, so Everton on Sunday will be a truer test of the new style but the players seem more comfortable with this shape and the pieces are fitting into place.

After this the game petered out. Bolton looked more dangerous with more attackers but they were three down by then and on the few occasions when they broke through, Gomes was in good form, as is the norm these days. He’s done so well for us over the last three months.

Although Palacios did not have an especially good match, his value was evident as soon as he was substituted. His absence left gaps in front of our defence but as I say, Bolton could not take advantage. Bassong did not duplicate his first half form – this was because he was moved around more by the strikers and so here is a vulnerability in his game, his positioning. Dawson compensated and dominated the box, still moaning at the ref and fully motivated deep into injury time when we were four up.

The fourth goal was again well-worked and Pav took full advantage of the space in the box at his disposal. This was an odd goal for me. For what seems like the first time in forty years, I missed the moment that he struck the ball because the bloke in front of me stood up and blocked my view. He had no need to – he had a totally unobstructed view of the pitch – but standing is not the sort of thing that bothers me. I picked up his movement early, born of my vast experience as I now enter the veteran stage but suddenly he became so wide, I couldn’t see round him. I blame myself – are my reactions finally becoming so dulled? This is a worrying development.

Of those I haven’t yet mentioned, Eidur’s interaction with his team-mates was good but the passing became all a bit flicky. BAE looked so calm, as usual, and first match back, late on he recovered after Elmander stampeded through and sweetly removed the ball from his toe. Bentley did little.

In the quarter finals, the field is not as strong as in previous years and suddenly there’s real excitement in the Cup.