Got The Love

November 15, 2010November 15, 2010 / Alan / 7 Comments

Feel the love. Lot of it about at the Lane on Saturday. Not what I expected, to be honest, given the edginess that crept in on Tuesday night and its aftermath, but all the more welcome for that. Hallo clouds, hallo sky, hallo floodlights. Goodnight, and I love you all.

It all started with Robbo’s annual pilgrimage to the Park Lane. All good fun as he milks it dry but I wonder what the Blackburn fans think. He doesn’t seem to share as much affection for them. The warmth and generosity is real but it’s odd that he should be the one, considering that he wasn’t a home-grown player and the number of errors he made during his sad decline towards the end of his time with us. During which period, it should be noted, that he took some massive stick from people around me and no doubt in other parts of the ground. Other players such as Carrick or Berbatov, shone more brightly in navy blue and white and certainly have a place in my heart but receive a very different reception.

The interaction between fans and players is a profoundly complex dynamic. Spurs fans have always been appreciative of most returning former players, with the announcer’s comments of ‘and a warm welcome back to…’ reciprocated in kind applause. I’ve never bought the ‘fickle Spurs fans’ argument that is still trotted out today by lazy hacks as soon as the grumbles become audible. Fans of other teams are exactly the same, getting on top of teams or players when they do not perform to expected levels, and our crowds have remained high through thick and thin.

There are many factors in play, including the ability of players, how long they’ve been with us and great moments in their careers, but in the end fans come to an unspoken consensus about two related elements, namely their honestly on the pitch and their feeling for the club. Deficiencies are usually forgiven with the passing of time if we know, or think we know, that our man has given everything in the cause and that he cares about us. With Robbo, we helped him through his bad patch, muting the vocal criticism as he suffered, especially for England after the Croatia goal, which wasn’t this fault. Carrick and Berba were superb for us but indifferent, part of Barba’s charm for me. Carrick might have got away with it but both committed the ultimate sin that overrides any of these considerations – they wanted to get away, and the Bulgarian’s behaviour was awful.

Lots of love for Pav. Glad it was there, we nurtured him over his terrible miss and the penalty, and he responded, finally, with a thrilling header from Bale’s juicy cross. It works, but Crouch would not have been treated so kindly. As I’ve said many a time, I would play Pav in preference to Crouch but I’m not convinced by him. For every glorious volley against Fulham last season or Bolton, there are many clumsy failures. There’s a third factor here, one that Spurs fans have held dear in the forty years that I’ve been watching us. We know what good football is and how good footballers go about things. We know what it looks like, smells and tastes like, because it’s the fabric of our heritage. Crouch doesn’t match up, I’m afraid.

No love from or to another old boy, Chimbonda. His extended, earnest discussion with Pav before the penalty presumably wasn’t about catching up with old friends. It worked, alongside Blackburn’s blatant delaying tactics, and Chimbo reminded him of that fact with a few well-chosen words as the ball smacked into the hoardings. I’m still not sure which foul the penalty was given for. At the time I thought it was Robbo on JJ but I think I fell asleep during MOTD. Maybe my mind switches off automatically when Lineker and Lawro start droning on. That’s evolution, that is.

Not to worry, we felt it in our fingers and our toes. It was all around us, as the Park Lane sang, ‘Harry, Harry give us a wave’. All that bother was behind us, and we like mensches made the first move. Harry’s reaction was way over the top – it never occurred to me leaving the ground on Tuesday that there was a problem – but hey, forgeddaboutit. See, we’re warm and caring, we understand if the pressure gets too much. Just make sure you deserve us, H.

The football helped. Lovely, flowing play, moving the ball purposefully and easing through and around Blackburn’s massed ranks of defenders. Five at the back, haven’t seen that for a while. It seemed to confuse them and certainly didn’t stifle us. Modric and VDV, good interchanges, VDV coming in off the wing to make an extra man in the centre and leaving space for Hutton to overlap, which he should have done more. Two up front and after my complaints about Tuesday’s tactics, fair play to Redknapp for picking this attacking formation.

Even if others demur, I’ve still got the hots for JJ. At least, if he plays like this. His drive and stamina provided an extra dimension, even if not all the passes came off. We came at Blackburn from a variety of angles, rather than just down the flanks, and JJ filled the space on the left created by the two defenders who take on Bale. An excellent all round game and his chance of a richly deserved goal was denied by a good tackle from Jones, who despite the backpass error in the first half, is destined for big things.

It helps if we’re playing well and go a goal up. Ironically it came from a corner, ironic in the sense that Blackburn’s cast of extras from Land of the Giants were set up to repel precisely all such set-pieces and our inglorious failure on Tuesday night to provide anything other than defensive heading practice. A precise ball and a near-post header worthy of Alan Gilzean. There is no higher praise.

Nothing can stop Superboy. His early crosses were beaten away by the second man, one in for the tackle, the other just behind to cut out any stray balls. But Bale learned from Tuesday and put the ball in the air. The cross for Pav’s goal took the breath away, pulled back at full stretch, instep curled around the ball. Pav looked so happy as he was engulfed in the crowd. Relief, sure, but joy and gratitude too.

Bale’s surges are a wonder to behold. I take in every step, each touch, every moment where suddenly he has the ball and does the unexpected, he can’t get through, surely, but he does. Enjoy every moment – this is brilliance of the highest order and he’s nowhere near the finished product. We love him and he loves us, he must do with his endearingly silly heart gesture. That’s what I really love about him. He’s just a kid. Hope he never grows up, that the innocent, fearless ebullience of youth remains everlasting.

Halftime and there’s more love than San Francisco ’68. Hopefully fewer drugs. Ricky Villa had more average games than good, let me tell you, but not only did he provide the moment of my footballing lifetime, his affection for the club is genuinely touching. He means it when he says he can’t quite fathom how he can come from his ranch to be adored by each and every Spurs fan, even after all these years and a World Cup winners’ medal in his home country.

Second half and more cracking football, hugely enjoyable, although both our goals came from Blackburn errors. It will give Crouch some confidence. I hope he’s getting plenty of TLC from Abby because it’s in short supply at the Lane. The game was won by the time they came back into it. If Sam had only rung me, I could have told him that we’re more vulnerable if you attack us, rather than massing the ranks of defenders, but hey ho, the phone never rang. He could have picked it up from Tuesday night but by the time they played some decent stuff, and they did look good, they were four down and Sam spent most of the second half as if stretched out in a Blackpool beach deckchair.

We defended well as the crosses swung towards their big guys, Gallas in particular made two fine headers, against bigger men, plus one off the line in the space of a few minutes, but we were less strong with the second ball at the edge of our box. I think he’s been injured but I’m pleased Dunn stayed on the bench for so long.

Time and love to spare for Gomes, patting his badge and his heart but with this pleasant, modest man, it’s real. We’ve looked after him through his bad times and he’s grateful. Not the cocky know-all celeb reaction from him, for him we are important and he wants to give something back.

Let’s stay buoyant in this sea of love but keep an eye out for the sharks – two late goals plus two off the line, that equals four… but an enjoyable, open game and plenty of the good stuff from Spurs.

The Meek Shall Inherit Tenth Place

November 10, 2010November 10, 2010 / Alan / 24 Comments

Now I’m angry. I had no issue in being generous after the let-down against Bolton. Not going to read too much into a single game and anyway I was clutching on to Inter glory for as long as is humanly possible. Not so this wretched, feeble effort versus a decidedly average Sunderland team. We’ve played a lot worse in the past, the recent past for that matter. The matter at hand is that faced with a great opportunity to win two home games against teams we should not fear, we capitulated as meekly as a kitten facing a rotweiler. These opportunities are fast running out.

Same old classic signs of my utter exasperation. Drab resignation at the final whistle gathering momentum as I trudge back to the car. Nearly there and I’m spluttering incoherently to my son who, bless him, has heard it all before. Open the door and it’s transformed into a few moments of bitter complaints plus a few slaps of the innocent dashboard. It’s a sure sign things have not gone well when I start shouting at the radio. Last night I turned on 5Live to hear Steve Claridge ajudge Sunderland as worthy of a point. Now this blog has a history of kind comments from opposition fans who pick this up on newsnow and I don’t mean to offend the loyal band who midweek fill their allocation of seats, but our rivals did nothing. They didn’t have to, and that’s why I’m furious. This was a game where Spurs failed rather than where the opposition succeeded.

Over the last couple of years many teams have closed us down with ruthless efficiency. Hull, Stoke, Wolves, hard work and well-drilled 11 man defence for which we had no answer. Last night Sunderland worked hard and their back four were strong but at no point did they stop us from playing football. Time and again, especially in the first half, we created space with ease, passing the ball around or through their midfield, good interchange between Modric, Huddlestone and VDV plus plenty of support from Hutton, Bale and Bentley on the flanks. Even when we were off colour in the second period, there was room to move. At the back we were sound throughout, bar two moments, and I honestly cannot recall a game when I felt less threatened. Sunderland showed not a flicker of creativity and at times we pushed them back so far, they joined the queue for the Colonel’s burgers in the Paxton Road.

Back to the radio and a shouty man in the backstreets of N17. Claridge then solemnly opines that in the second half, when we attacked down our left, Sunderland let Benny have the ball and dropped two men on Bale, thus nullifying his efforts. Yes, but that didn’t stop him. Repeatedly he bore down on the defence, what went wrong was his use of the ball. He crossed too early too often but he had loads of room. For some reason he didn’t cut into the box, a potent weapon as our opponents tired, they couldn’t risk tackles for fear of a penalty but he never took them on in the danger areas.

Same on the other flank, where we were victims of our own weak-minded failings. Bentley’s Hollywood flicks and long range shooting is evidence of a man keen to impress as an individual, at the expense of team play. He never learns. However his real problem was his robotic preprogrammed compulsion to overlap when he and Hutton advanced. Acres of room inside but every time he goes wide. Just where Sunderland want him and the ball. The full-backs’ thighs were red-raw by the end where all his attempted crosses thwacked into their flesh, and they loved every second of the pain, because he was in their pocket.

Crosses. Teams score lots of goals from crosses. We got one. But they are easier to defend for English teams. Some of the most talented midfielders in the league stood and watched as the ball sailed over, or not as in many cases. Time and again. What is the point of having Luka, Tom, VDV if all we do is cross the ball? We may or may not score a few goals in this way, but that’s where teams want us to be, they’ll take their chances with the cross, thank you very much. To repeat, we had plenty of space in the middle because we were seldom closed down effectively. A mindless waste.

Titus Bramble. Let’s fathom a cunning plan to get at him. Lithe, mobile, lightening quick in the tackle, sees the first yard in his head and anticipates uncannily well. Oh hang on, that’s Bobby Moore, I got a bit mixed up. With Bramble, let’s bring on a big bloke and wang the ball aimlessly into the box for 45 minutes. Crouch comes on, first ball into the box is a good one but he decides that the best approach is a Pythonesque goose-step. That comedy walk gets them every time, eh Pete? I wasn’t laughing.

The crosses, the Crouch, it’s tactics and they are Redknapp’s responsibility. On the evidence of his movement, dropping deep and linking front and back in the first half, Redknapp decides to push VDV to the edge of the box in the second half, where he waits for the good ball that never came and Bramble and Turner can head them away all night. At half-time, we had played well without having much of a cutting edge. Gallas and Kaboul were untroubled at the back and Hud was supreme in midfield, the pick of the players. Luka was busy and creative, whilst Pav’s movement and committment was good. We were comfortable and on top with the 4-4-1-1. Some tweaking was required and the goals would surely come. Cut down on the crosses and we’d get one or two. Crouch’s arrival ended all that. Whilst Sunderland’s two up front pressured Hud, it left others with room to move, yet we criminally failed to exploit it. If there are two on Bale, there’s room somewhere else. VDV couldn’t fill it, he was told to stick to the edge of the box. Luka can’t do it on his own. Anyway, the ball’s in the air, and Turner and Bramble are heading it away….

We get one, no danger from them, we should be fine. Then a moment when…I’ve not seen a replay so I can only go on the night – how on earth did that happen? Our fault again, letting a team back into a game under no pressure. We nearly did the same at the end when Gomes fouled at the edge of the box.

That wise sage jimmyG2 summed it up perfectly in the comments section of Bolton – ‘I give Harry credit when it’s due and the blame when its not’. I’m conscious that I’ve been banging on about this problem for a bit. I genuinely have no axe to grind but this is plain wrong. Granted we have scored three goals from a far post crosses, Crouch knockdown and VDV a yard out. This is but one tactic, not the only one. This is about potential – we have the players to do so much more. If this is how we’re going to play, buy Kenwynne Jones or any bruiser and go the whole hog. This about the best team we’ve seen at the Lane for ages, and what they could do. This is about finishing in the top four. The other top contenders don’t play like this, because it doesn’t work. Brainless.

What Have We Learned?

November 8, 2010 / Alan / 11 Comments

I doubt very much if there is a team in the League that is more frustrating to watch at the moment than our beloved Spurs. Capable of so much, we deliver so little at times. Used to asking the question pre-match, ‘which Tottenham team is going to turn up?’, after yesterday we now have to pose the same query at half-time as well because who knows what they are going to come up with? Problem is, I suspect they don’t have any idea either.

Players make mistakes and teams go through bad spells. Intensely irritating but after all these years I’m used to it. What really grates, what digs around deep down inside and contorts my innards into a tight aching throbbing mass of bile-filled fury that bubbles and froths until it is fit to burst open the lining of my stomach, shatter the rib cage and spew into the light drenching the room with rancorous acid, is when we don’t learn. And round about now, it feels like we never learn. A few days ago we dominated the match by imposing ourselves on a quality team and by sustaining our effort and application for 90 minutes. Our centre midfield ran the show. Watching from the high television position at the Reebok, at times our team looked like Subbuteo figures on a giant pitch, spread out far and wide and just as mobile. I would have given them more than a flick to wake them, I can tell you. Memo to HR- at the next team talk make sure they understand that when you talk about making space, it’s not supposed to be space for the other team.

I refuse to lose that Tuesday night feeling and neither do I wish to infer too much from Saturday as a stand-alone performance. 99% of Spurs fans would gladly have exchanged defeat at the Reebok for the experience of victory against the European Champions. Left to myself I would have gone for 100% but I do know people who left the Lane muttering about the real bread and butter of Bolton away.

So I’m not going to get too maudlin about this tawdry little effort. But all this ‘would have taken that’ stuff is a sign of restricted horizons. We have huge ability and an even larger potential, so let’s fulfil that and see where it takes us. I want it all, wins against Milan and in a slog at the Reebok, not because of unrealistic expectations but because that’s what we should be capable of.

Bolton played well, especially at the beginning of the second half where they pre-empted our 4-4-2 by pressing higher up the pitch, holding possession and generally making a right nuisance of themselves. We expected to settle into a rhythm at that point and didn’t recover until we were three down and beaten.

Our opponents refused to let us play from the back. Sandro was dropping further and further back yet still he was denied any room. The first time he was tackled, we got away with it but no reprieve for the second time. Holden had a fine match as defensive midfield and Lee is a real talent while Crouch can only dream of a touch like Davies’ for the fourth goal. They took their chances well but we made it simple. Two goals came from us losing possession and the penalty was the sign of a tired mind. Without decrying their efforts, we made it so easy for them.

Bale had a good game; anything he came up with would have suffered by comparison with Inter. He made a series of opportunities down the left: it’s not just about him, it’s who gives him the ball. You can try to stop him getting going but if he plays those one-twos and the ball is accurate, no defence can get close. Modric too was excellent in the first half, plenty of sorties forward.

However, as I’m repeating so often these days, you can’t really play a through ball to Crouch. As the lone striker, he’s all Modders has. Time and again Luka made a little break and had to play it out wide. This is easier for Bolton to defend – Knight and Cahill were great dealing with the crosses, digging out even the toughest of Bale’s swervers, but they would not have been so sure-footed if we had come through the middle.

Over the last 12 months a number of players who were not first team regulars have shown a burning desire to seize every chance when it came their way. Last January Bale had a loan move on his mind, while Dawson’s introduction led to individual and team success, culminating international honours. Even poker faced Benny clearly burned to reclaim his place after injury. Now Kaboul for all his inexperience is determined to take the same path.

If only the same could be said for Palacios and Kranjcar. Not only did they fluff their opportunity, Niko in particular didn’t seem too bothered. I’m a big fan of his: on Saturday it was like playing with ten men. Wilson needs to build up a head of steam, using several games to settle into a rhythm, but he’ll never get the chance if he continues like this. Harry was apparently having a go at him. Whether he was drifting too far forward I don’t know, it would have been ideal if he hovered in front of the back four, because goodness knows there were wide open spaces for Bolton to exploit. The back four were stretched call over the place because none of the five midfielders dropped back. Bale and Niko were nowhere. We simply can’t do this. Didn’t I say that about the United game, in regard to Bale and Lennon? I did you know.

The selection of 4-5-1 against a Bolton team keen to get men forward was misjudged. It made it harder for us to take the game to them. I wonder if deep down, Harry knows that despite our strength in depth, this lot play best with a pattern dictated by certain key players. Tom Huddlestone’s value is so often proved in his absence. We’ve seen him come on this season, Young Boys being one example, when on the surface it’s like for like, DM for DM, but it all works more smoothly. The men around him look more comfortable with his presence.

Pav came on, did nothing, then scores a volley from a ball that dropped from the clouds. Hutton’s effort was superb, but I always feel great goals are wasted if you lose badly. Give me 3-0 and save the glory goals for another time. Hutton was the pick of a bad bunch. Probably the least effective man on Tuesday, he had a good game at the back and coming forward.

So what do know this week that we didn’t know ten days ago? We know how well we can operate if we attack and we have our best men available. The potential is breathtaking. We’ve learned that we cannot afford to chop and change too much, but I reckon we knew that already. We can’t play two games a week to the same intensity. I’m not having this ‘European hangover’ lark – it’s about an overall ability to stay strong mentally and play well even if individuals are tired, in other words something that pre-dated our involvement in the CL.

We’ve hit the heights this week but are still a work in progress. We are developing but fact is, we have to go a bit harder and faster because others are learning too and there’s a danger we will be left behind. As it is, we are as close to the relegation zone as we are to the top four. Two home matches to come are vital – six points is essential as we are running out of wiggle room.

The two opening paragraphs aren’t bad, even if I say so myself. They sum up both the game and the fan’s feelings of frustration. Thing is, though, I wrote them not on Sunday but after the corresponding fixture last season. We are a better team now, no question – the team we dominated before Bolton away last season was Aston Villa, not Inter Milan – and I’m really not too despondent, but it’s a salutary reminder that some things aren’t changing as quickly as we might like.

Not So Much a Match Report, More a Celebration

November 3, 2010November 3, 2010 / Alan / 23 Comments

Last night Spurs produced a fearless, compelling and utterly irresistible display of bravura football, the like of which I have seldom seen in my 40 plus seasons of watching my beloved team. Inter Milan, proud champions of Europe, a defence the envy of the competition, were repeatedly torn to shreds. One of the greatest nights in our modern history, but with football like this, there’s scant need to be parochial – this morning the eyes of Europe are upon us.

At the end of the night, a shy, modest young Welshman was anointed as a world-class talent. Gareth Bale shattered Inter with an unstoppable combination of muscular direct running and devastatingly accurate crossing. Top class players with every trick in the book, pace, hard tackling, positioning plus the arcane dark arts of international defenders, they’ve seen it all before but on the night all they saw was his backside as he powered past them. As they thrash around in the middle of the night in storm-tossed demented half-sleep, the number three will float into their consciousness and torment them for evermore.

I’ve seen a game or two in my time but I’ve never seen anything quite like Bale. In full flight this big man is a fearsome sight. he needs a stride or two to get moving but once he gains momentum he’s away. Yet despite this, the most remarkable aspect of his play is the final ball. Viciously swerving crosses that are nigh on impossible to handle or the far post ball on the ground, they are dispatched with great accuracy whilst he’s stampeding through at full tilt. The touch to the byline, the amount of times the ball does not cross the line but is pulled back as his instep curls around it and into the box. This is not a reflex reaction. Rather, he’s learned to pick his passes much better, witness the second and third goals last night. As the blood pumps furiously and every sinew strains, his mind remains focussed and calm. He is twenty-one years old.

It’s not as if Inter were unprepared. Not only was there plenty of first hand evidence from the first leg, Benitez knows the English game intimately, yet his team offered too much space. Even if they had closed him down, Bale would have escaped their clutches. This signals a new strand of defensive tactics. Against Bale, formations are no longer described with players spread across the pitch horizontally. Goal-line to goal-line, 5-3-2. It’s the only way.

This was no one man band. Modric was outstanding in the centre. Low to the ground, seeking space and then filling it with an angled ball or a short stabbing run to collect the pass and move on. Always active, he provided both an outlet for team-mates and a steady supply of creativity. Little arms outstretched, give it to me, give it here, I want it give it to me. The opening goal was exquisite, a simple natural beauty rather than the glamour of those that followed but nonetheless it took the breath away. The touch and turn, head up, how can a football rolling 6 yards be so sumptuous? Van der Vaart, on the same wavelength, as one and in. Stunning.

VDV roamed wild and free in the first half. Not everything came off but Inter could never rest. Hud was solid in the centre, spraying the ball wide and undertaking defensive duties diligently. Gallas had a decent match. He bounces around like tigger, hopping up, down and sideways, alert and balanced, barking out instructions. No thought of bygone days, only Spurs on his mind and new challenges ahead. Lennon occupied Inter’s attention, if only the final ball were better but he made his fair share of opportunities. Another word of praise for Kaboul. He should be way over his head in this company but he’s not having any of that. He wants it, wants it bad, and he had another good game. For our third, the little Inter forward had possession, edge of the box, back to goal, and Kaboul stayed patiently on his feet rather than diving in. Result? We gained possession and Bale disappeared into the wide blue yonder.

Yet the really wondrous aspect of this match was the team itself. No hint of the disjointed, aimless play we’ve seen so often with this squad. They produced a sustained display of attacking endeavour, moving as a single organism with one intent, victory. The movement was excellent throughout with barely a moment to catch their breath. They supported each other magnificently and played from the off with sustained purpose and high tempo. From the kick off Bale took a waist-high pass under pressure and first time knocked it back, to Benny I think. A footnote on a wonderful night but it was a sign of confidence. Spurs imposed themselves on their illustrious opponents from the beginning and never let up. My head was spinning as we tried to break down the Italian barrier – both wings, running, passing, onetwos, the entire gamut of creative football.

I suspect Benitez had no sense that Spurs would dare to attack so consistently. It’s the Champions League, a group match, you want to win but are cautious because losing is a crime. Everyone knows that. Kudos to Redknapp and the coaches for setting up the team in this way and for instilling the will to win. The fluency up front was a joy to behold. Not just VDV and Luka, but Bale making diagonal runs off the ball into the middle and pushing JJ forward when Rafa went off. Inter had barely a moment’s respite from this unceasing assault.

So Bale, this giant of the game, runs amok then amidst the tumult of celebration absent-mindedly checks his hair. In the post match interview, he looks at the floor, says he’s still learning. Last week he had a few days off. Went to stay with his mum. Just a kid of twenty-one. Me, I’ve seen it all before, but I’ve not seen anything like this. Past 1 am, can’t sleep, watch the recording and waves of goosebumps flow down my body from head to toe. After all this time, I should not surprised by what Spurs does to the emotions, but once again they’ve floored me. A head-spinningly joyous night of wild passion and wonder.