The first in a series of pieces covering the 2010-11 season. To follow – the players, the manager, the future.

All Spurs fans are united in the pursuit of success but scratch the surface and the definitions of what that actually means are less certain. It used to be easy – you won something bright and shiny. Failing that, make do with a higher league position than the previous year. That’s all been distorted by the inexorable grip of the Premier League and the Champions League. The prizes still glitter but it’s the income and untold riches of these competitions that put the sparkle into the eyes of chairmen across Europe. In this hall of mirrors, finishing fourth, out of the medals and forgotten in any other sporting competition, becomes the Holy Grail and for many supporters coming 6th or 7th is better than 5th because the goal is to not qualify for a major European tournament.

Definitions may be poles apart but they have in common the same fault – a narrow short-term perspective. Football reflects society: we think it doesn’t because we treasure our own environment of morals and behaviour, fashion and rules but we can’t escape the world in which we live. It’s all about the here and now. We lose sight of our history and how we got here, we just do. Politicians sacrifice the future in pursuit of votes. Why save up when you can use your credit-card? It’s all about instant gratification: we want it all and we want it now. If ever the Premier League needs a tagline, that’s it right there.

Football has become the epitome of short-termism.  Managers come and go at the slightest whiff of trouble, despite the evidence to the contrary that two of the most successful teams in the last ten years have kept the same manager for well over a decade. Phone-ins are deluged with fans ready to write off the team after a few poor results. As I write, Chelsea sack a manager whose double last season means nothing because they have only come second in one of the most competitive leagues in the world.

To find out where Spurs stand, I’d rather take the long view. I have mixed views about this season. The highs of 5th place, some scintillating football played by world-class players and a run in the Champions League that produced one of the performances of a generation and memories to last a lifetime have been laced with periods of profound frustration. We’ve thrown away winning positions and lost games and points to teams we should have beaten. Given that we have won nothing, the benchmark for this season is the longer-term process of building a team capable of consistently challenging for  the league and winning trophies, year after year. Before I’m accused of opting out of the disappointments of finishing 5th or 6th or sinking without a trace in the domestic cups, it’s the establishment and maintenance of a dynasty that I’m after. Nothing much there, then.

Taking this as the mark of progress, the source of the frustration becomes clear. We’ve had a decent season but have failed to make substantial progress. Last season gave us a platform upon which to build and the ecstatic pressures of the Champions League gave us new experiences to take us onwards and upwards. yet that growth has not materialised into consistently better results.

The season has collapsed since we were badly beaten by Real Madrid, despite the reviving victory at Anfield last weekend. On the surface there’s been little discernible difference – we’ve played some cracking football as we have throughout, players like Modric, Gallas, Dawson and especially Sandro have grown in stature. Arguably Spurs overachieved massively by reaching the quarter finals. Dig deeper and that comprehensive defeat was a body blow that left us still standing but dizzy during a mandatory count to 8. Worse, it exposed problems that have been there for the whole season but which that same heady intoxicating run in the Champions League had partially obscured, an inability to score enough goals to kill off inferior opponents.

Compared with last year we are close but not close enough. One places lower in the league, some breathtakingly exciting matches that will live long in the memory and some captivatingly beautiful football. In Modric and Bale we have two footballers to match, Bale still best seen as a work in progress and as such possibly the best prospect in the country but Modric is coming to his peak as a genuinely great playmaker. We’ve also seen one of the great Spurs performances of modern times. away to Milan closely followed by the routing of the European champions. But the table doesn’t lie. Fewer points, fewer goals, too many draws means a failure to mount a serious challenge for any trophies.

Redknapp and his legion of coaches have enabled individuals to develop but have failed to extract the maximum potential from the team. Bale, Sandro, Dawson, Assou-Ekotto, Huddlestone before he was injured, have all prospered under HR’s fatherly eye and Gallas has been a revelation in terms of his ability and motivation. However, this improvement has not always been matched by the team. Harry will have a column all to himself later in the week. For now, here’s where the team has not moved forward.

We hold possession much better now, especially when Modric is allowed to play in the middle and run the show. However, a high proportion of goals conceded have stemmed from us giving the ball away under no serious pressure. This should come from experience yet at times we seem as naive in this respect as we were when Ramos was in charge.

Also, we have conceded far too goals by being way over-stretched at the back. Wolves and and Blackpool come to mind. Both were in the bottom three when we played them, both dismantled our defence on a regular basis. The fact is, however unpalatable it may be to Redknapp or me as a fan who glories in attacking football, we are too open too often because of the way we play. The basic tactical set up of two wingers and only one holding midfielder leaves us vulnerable. No one enthuses more about seeing Bale and Lennon in full flight. The brutal truth behind  league success is that they have to not just work back every time the opposition have the ball but to be in position between their opposite number and goal. Our centre midfield have to dominate the area in front of our back four.  Every time. That requires a fluidity and positional nouse that we did not display on a consistent basis.

Last but certainly not least, our strikers have misfired all season. Crouch, Pav and Defoe are three men whose differing individual styles could on paper have been the perfect blend, a combination for any occasion. In fact, what they had in common was an inability to take the chances that came their way, to master the basic skill of ball-control and to form any sort of meaningful partnership. Every striker goes through a bad goalscoring run but their failure  and apparent stubborn refusal to perform the fundamental aspects of a striker’s role has been shocking. At times when two of them have been on the field together, one has seemingly disregarded the existence of the other. No interplay. No one anywhere near Crouch for the knock down. Defoe and Pav watching from the edge of the box as cross after cross whizzes across the 6 yard box. Defoe’s dereliction of duty has been the most consistent element of his season. The marksman in the box prefers to loiter and wait for the ball to come to him.

Three styles but none that suits the rest of the team. Modric and Van der Vaart are world class and put the fear of the Rapture into the hearts and minds of defenders. yet repeatedly  they look up and find nothing going on in front of them. No runs to slid the ball into channels, no one bombing in on crosses. It’s not just the fault of the strikers: seldom did our midfielders consistently get past the strikers and run on into the box. Crouch’s mere presence encourages the long far post cross. It’s not a question of what he does with it, although I’d say I’ve never seen someone so tall who has such problems heading the ball except for the existence of Anthony Gardner: it doesn’t make the best of what we’ve got.

We needed a man with the right game to play up front, mobile, good movement and aware with a good touch who could score a few goals, not necessarily masses but enough, and bring other players into the game. The failure was not in January when Levy suddenly put up huge wads of euros in a belated, desperate and ill-fated attempt to sign any La Liga striker but back in the summer, when more players are available. No one wants to part with their resources in January. Redknapp was blind to the self-imposed restrictions of his strikeforce. Although I reckon he’s been disappointed with the form of JD and Crouch, his favourites ( he’s never liked Pav), he severely underestimated their ability to score consistently at the highest level. I suspect also that his scouting network is not as well developed for top class players as it was when Comolli was here.

The factors holding us back are not all of our own making. Although Liverpool have declined, Manchester City were always favourite for 4th once they moulded their highly paid and under-motivated squad into anything like a team. We can’t compete with their resources and the players it brings.The fact that a lack of cutting edge in the recent away game prevented us from defeating them shows how well we can play, despite their advantages.

Also, other teams now have a better idea of how to play against us. I don’t set much store by Redknapp’s public spouting but I was hurt on Bale’s behalf by his manager’s recent offhand dismissal, saying that one of the reasons why we didn’t not do so well in second half of the season was that he was not at his best, neglecting the fact that he has two or three men on him every time he gets the ball. Inter showed what happened if you left him alone, Europe didn’t make the same mistake again. Under the circumstances he did remarkably well. Teams exploited the weakness I’ve mentioned above, crowding us out and pressing high up the field so we couldn’t play out of defence.

One final area for development is squad rotation. We need to learn how to handle the modern imperative of players coming in and out of the team without a noticeable reduction in performance quality. This is vital if we are to have a tilt at all the competitions next season, especially the Europa league where muddling through the group without knackering the best players by December is an art-form.. At Fulham in the Cup the changes were disastrous.

Despite these issues, I refuse to be bogged down in negativity. I’ve enjoyed this season. The focus on the frustration comes from a recognition of what we are and what we could be. That sublime football allied to a committed team loyal to the club (few men can be accused of a lack of effort this year) and a sound team spirit has produced a good final league position and lasting memories. We beat Inter and Milan, beat Arsenal, the pulsating home derby . An ‘I was there’ moment is surely the ultimate accolade and there were many this season. I will forever remember Bale and Modric in their pomp, or Sandro when he was just a fledging prospect as opposed to to  world-class centre midfielder that he will surely become.

Yet it is precisely the fact that this squad is the best of the last twenty or thirty years that highlights the limitations in our progress, because what could have been and could still be, is frightening. Redknapp needs more time to build on what we have. The addition of one or two players could take us higher, three or four and it’s almost too much to bear. We have an understanding of the resilience and mental application that is required to be a success at this level and it would be criminal to waste that insight next season. Build on what we have. Consistency and evolution are the key, not wholesale changes and certainly not at the top.

The best teams can hold it together without playing at their peak. Preparation and training are all fine and good but are wasted words: the only way to learn how to withstand the pressure of winning every week at the top of the league and in Europe is to be there.

Yesterday Harry told told us this was as good as it gets. Well actually old son, actually no. When I applauded the team on their lap of honour yesterday, I meant it. They’ve done us proud and I’ll be forever grateful. Equally, i know it  can get a whole lot better.

At the risk of letting light in upon magic, I sometimes prepare a few things to say before the game starts. Bit of background, some context maybe, the key themes to put the match into the context of what’s gone on before. For this one, as recently as last week I resolved to stand back from the clamour about this being the 4th place decider. Whatever the result, Liverpool away was the real deal because I had long since given up on the Champions League, even if others hadn’t. The Europa League was the only prize at stake, and given the anti-climatic season’s end, I would have been satisfied.

That innocuous introduction seems absurdly  presumptuous now, just a few days on. Through no shortage of effort or application, we struggled to break down the resolute defences of first Blackpool then Manchester City, dominating both games in terms of possession and territory but with only a single goal and point to show for it, and that a long range effort. Make that one win in 13, and as if things couldn’t possibly be worse, Liverpool score 5 Fulham with a star performance from a striker we were seriously after.

Defeat is one thing but life, rub it in our faces, why don’t you. Last year’s hero turns villain with an undignified own goal for an undeserved winner. At the end, caution and negativity triumphs over the cavalier devil-may-care attacking darlings of the neutral who wants exciting, open football.

We the fans watch and feel the process, the ups and downs of our fortunes, but there’s always one moment when the true impact hits, whether that be pain or joy. That instant is different for each of us: mine was 5 minutes before the final whistle last night. I knew the wheels had come off, we all did, disappointment but I never had outrageous expectations so that had cushioned the blow. Until then. For in the eyes of the City fans, desperate and twitching for the end yet simultaneously giddy with the ecstasy of what is to come, I saw me, 12 months ago almost to the day. Defeat was not so much disappointment, it’s deprivation.

Suitably crushed, in the spirit of comradeship I wanted to tell them what all Spurs fans knew – we were never going to score. On twitter, most seemed to have turned over to watch the Apprentice. Ironic then that the programme’s lead character Alan Sugar took us to midtable mediocrity whilst trousering tens of millions in personal profit.

In many ways this match was our season in microcosm. After a few early scares, we gradually asserted ourselves through some fine possession football. City had done their homework and tried to exploit our season-long weakness of keeping too large a gap between the centre halves and the back four. The difference when we attacked was marked, with their fullbacks tucking right in. Rose made one or two positional errors to start with, but he’s quick and a quick learner. Get the positioning correct and with that pace he’s looking a genuine prospect at full-back – he had a fine game.

We were under real pressure but to the players’ credit we seldom played as if this were the case . Then we threw it all away. Crouch’s’ lackadaisical effort to clear that ball, off-balance as the messages from brain to foot took even longer than usual to pass along the nervous system, was poor but the real problem was the dozy marking that enabled Milner to put the ball across from close range. It’s a short corner with no one there. Kids stuff. We’ve been there before, so often.

Spells at the end of the first half and the beginning of the second were as good as any we’ve seen this season. Flowing, composed possession football with Modric the heart and soul, Sandro driving on in the middle and Lennon as a bright as a button on the right. After a dreadful start, Pienaar picked up the pace and made his contribution. Van der Vaart worked hard across the box.

All to no avail. Few chances and sadly the two gems, Modric in the first half (I was certain that was in!!) and Pienaar in the second, were missed. Nothing much going on once we get to the edge of the area. Too often we made good passes wide to left or right to produce good crosses but after a while you realised that in fact this was the soft option. City were far happier heading these away, as were Blackpool on Saturday, than if we had burst for the heart of their defence. Crouch was awful, City defenders ravenously gobbling up the supply of weedy predictable  knockdowns with Peter the Grate oblivious to the presence of the goal itself a mere 12 yards distant.

A few comparisons with our usurpers makes for sobering reading. Up front, at first sight there’s not a lot of material to work on, seeing as we penned them back for the majority of the game, yet what they did offer was noticeably more incisive than the majority of our work. At the start of the second half we broke down the right and lennon crossed. In teh middle we had four or five players busitng a gut to get into the box. One of them, Pienaar, forced a brilliant save from Hart. The real reason why we don’t score more is that we did not do that again. Goals can come from the midfield as well as the strikers but not if we sit back in the comfort zone at the edge of the area. Late on, it was Corluka and Lennon who reached the byline. Good crosses, both watched by three or four players who should have been bombing into the 6 yard box, looking for a touch or nudge, anything. An own goal, even….

City do not get numbers forward but those that do come late into the box. Silva is especially good at this, Tevez when he plays, Toure latterly. They come onto the ball, often simple short stabbed passes into the gaps between defenders. We on the other hand are static and stationary, ahead of the ball and waiting for it. Problem is, so are  their defenders.

Secondly, when they were on top early on City’s front three closed us down high up the pitch, stifling our development of the passing movements we love. We don’t do that, and we easily could.

Thirdly, and most crucially for our season, City did not concede and held onto a lead. They cut out mistakes at the back and didn’t give us any room. We played so well to keep the ball despite their efforts – sure City are defensive  but we pushed them back for extended periods so they didn’t have that much of a choice. We are able to play like this – Milan home and away anyone – but we don’t do so often enough.

This blog tries its best to avoid cliches but unashamedly adopts Danny Blanchflower’s famous quote: “the game is about glory, doing things in style.” I keep returning to this because it sums up what I believe about football and what I want from my beloved Spurs. There’s no way I wish to play like City, but the sobering thought that lingers this morning is: they are 4th, we aren’t. As the quote continues, the game really is about going out and beating the other lot, not waiting for them to die of boredom as City did last night. It’s just that sometimes, there is a balance where caution and graft takes its place alongside the beautiful attacking football. The lesson to take from this match and from this season is that we haven’t got the balance quite right yet. Like an F1 car running low on fuel, on the screen in isolation everything looks the same, bright, shiny and streamlined. Pull away and in wide angle, compared with the rest of the pack, it’s going backwards. The nearer the destination, the more you’re slip sliding away.

We’re all the same, football fans. Turn up every week, that familiar and engaging mix of optimism and dedication at kick-off, tinged with the total certainty that the wheels are going to fall off at the earliest opportunity. “Typical insert name of your team here, trust us to have it all go wrong” Really though, is there a team like Spurs? That has created an art-form out of the cock-up.

But really. Consider this a scientific endeavour. I want to know, because I’m determined to push back once more the frontiers of human knowledge, the secret must be shared. Because it’s there. Fans of other teams, compare and contrast. Especially fans of top teams, teams striving to do well in the Premier League, never mind Europe, teams who want to challenge for the untold riches and glory of the Champions League. Teams with pretensions, who want to be something.

Here’s the model to evaluate. You’re not playing well but are still on top. Although your energetic, well-organised and motivated opponents are making it hard for you and have to be carefully watched on the break, the match is yours for the taking. It’s a corner, against the run of play. two centre halves jump. Yours is the captain, a rock, who has inspired others, made himself a far better player than most expected him to ever be, who is now an international when the guy he came to the club with several years ago, the one we really wanted, is long gone and getting fat on your opponent’s bench. Yet at this crucial moment, 0-0, as he jumps he can’t resist sticking up his hand. Penalty.

Enough for most teams but oh no. Onto centre stage strolls our keeper. We like him but he has a secret power – a marshmallow body. Moreover, he has no control over when he transforms. Up steps the taker, not even much noise to put him off, such is the gloom that has descended over the ground. Ta-dah! He saves it, plunging low to his left, a proper save to a good shot, not a penalty miss.

He does a slightly scary celebratory dance in the box, reminiscent of tribal shamen high on peyote and summoning up the spirits. Maybe he was on something

stronger than marshmallows, that would explain a hell of a lot. His joy lifts him to meet the resulting corner, he catches it but it’s not quite there, a couple of flaps and it’s gone. The opponent seizes the chance but goes a bit wide….and the keeper brings him down. For no real reason other than blind panic. A second penalty in 30 seconds, they score this time. Surely in the long annuals of football history, this is a first. Genuinely remarkable. Fans of other clubs, tell me if your lot could do that.

This was of course the second implosion of the game. Again on top, as in terms of territory we were for the majority of the time, our defence’s unerring ability to evaporate meant we almost conceded in the first half. Where do they go? Really, what are they up to? As individuals I like them. Kaboul has a lot to learn about positioning at full-back but he’s OK. Gallas and Daws are true warhorses. Not once but twice in quick succession Blackpool had chances to take it as we looked on in desperation. Credit to Gomes here for a superb save, low and one-handed to his left. That’s the thing, he’d done so well up until the penalties. That’s the other thing – this ability to fall apart is all too familiar.

You have to laugh or else you’d cry. Something else that fans of most clubs would identify with, but it was a dismal evening at the Lane that was encapsulated in the MOTD highlights, which were a) not very long and b) almost exclusively featured Blackpool attacks. Tis wasn’t a reflection of the game itself – we were on top for most of it – but showed that despite our territorial and possession superiority, the Tangerines had the best chances. We had lots of attempts but I can’t recall their keeper having to make many hard saves, or even diving come to think of it. Mind you, his outfit was so bright, looking gave me a headache so perhaps I averted my gaze. Cars on the North Circular were slowing down because they saw a warning of a hazard ahead.

We huffed and puffed but couldn’t blow the house down. Without playing particularly well, we were fine until we reached the edge of the area. Then nothing. Early on, Blackpool played a high defensive line but gradually and to our credit we broke that down by getting wide. Bale had two or three men on him but still knocked over a series of crosses, not all on target but there were more than enough decent opportunities. A couple whizzed across the box as our strikers stood back and watched from a safe distance.

The goal when it finally came was excellent, and credit to Defoe for pulling that one of the bag. This season, Spurs have scored 12 goals from outside the box, more than any other Premier League side. The end of season showreel will excite with plenty of whizz-bang moments, but that stat indicates not brilliance but our fundamental problem: our strikers are poor. Time and again Modric, Rafa and Sandro were poised at the edge of the box, looking for something but saw only tangerine shirts. The crosses came in but there’s no one on the end of the them. It’s a well-worn topic in these hallowed columns, but all three of the strikers were terrible. Pay wore his rubber boots and the ball bounced off them time and again, but it’s a basic lack of technique that lets them down, over and over again. Pav was abysmal. I feel kind of responsible because without singing his praises I would pick him ahead of Crouch but it’s got so bad, I look forward to two metre Peter’s arrival.

Right at the first half’s close Sandro realised the real problem. Twice he surged forward at pace, knowing that we had to up the tempo and Harry took the hint in the second half by bringing Lennon on. He and Bale banged in the crosses – to a strike force composed of JD and VDV. If one stood on the other’s shoulders, they would barely be taller than the Blackpool centre halves, yet still we crossed it. This plays to our opponent’s strengths. One of their tactics is to withdraw into their box and the massed ranks repel all boarders. Not a criticism, it’s just what they do and we made it so easy for them.

Good luck to Blackpool. Their fans look and sound as though they actually enjoy football rather than being obsessed by money and league position, and their manager has done a fantastic job, my manager of the season. However, they are the dirtiest team I’ve seen at the Lane this season with several ugly fouls, late and high, when not under any pressure. In the first half Rose rode a dreadful tackle, then Bale was singled out for special treatment as Adam came across and cynically and calculatingly took him out. That ended his threat for the last 30 minutes (and as it turns out for the season), yet the referee did not even give a foul, let alone display a card when red could easily have been appropriate.

Mind you, by this point the ref appeared to have given up, happy to let the players get on with in the manner of a lunchtime playground kickabout. Fouls from both sides, with many from Spurs, went unpunished. I’m all for letting a game flow but this was bizarre. At one time, Crouch, Rafa and Evatt were on the floor clutching their heads and the ref gave a bounce-up after we deliberately stopped and kicked it out of play. He was probably still chuckling as in a moment of comedy gold increasingly in tune with our performance, Crouch had been pushed in the back and went flying into Rafa. Head met head and both lay prostrate. He even got the bounce-up wrong. Adam let Modric have it, thinking clearly that it was supposed to be uncontested but the ref meant it was a competitive drop, presumably to cover up the fact that he couldn’t decide what was going on so left it to the players.

Crouch on and the ball is launched high into the evening sky. A few half-chances but mostly a waste. That’s what happens when Crouch is on but we’ve done that one before, too. The guy behind brought his young son. He’s trying to teach him the finer points of the game but as with any 6 year old, he’s majorly impressed when they kick it as far and as high as possible. Suffice to say  he enjoyed the last twenty minutes more than I did.

A few other things to say, in no particular order. Luka Modric was once again outstanding, when we play like this he does so much to get us going, it’s downright criminal to see it go to waste.

Never mind all this samba football, the best Brazilian teams always has a tough defensive midfielder or two at their heart. Sandro will that man for years to come. He’s that good.

Danny Rose had a fine game. He looked composed and purposeful throughout and his defensive positioning was satisfactory. At the start Holloway pushed Taylor Fletcher right up on him, big experienced guy versus the slim newbie, but Rose easily had the beating of him on the ground and, surprisingly, in the air. Although he might have used his pace and linked better with Bale in attack, that’s only to be expected as they haven’t played together much. Rose is one of those players who came with high hopes and doesn’t seem to have moved on. From all accounts he’s not been ripping up trees when he goes on loan but this performance at least showed plenty of promise and it will be interesting to see what plans we have for him next season.

A great goal by Defoe, no question, but it was virtually first time that Blackpool allowed him any space. Give him a  second to compose himself and he looks dynamite. Except that in the Prem, that seldom happens.

Our last 12 games: won 1, drawn 7, lost 4. Opponents include whammers, Wolves, Wigan and Blackpool twice. It’s a lousy anti-climax to the end of the season. The lustre of the Champions League is fast fading. At the match I was mystified as to why a guy as experienced as Dawson should throw his hand into the air at a routine corner. I don’t usually get the chance to watch replays if I’ve been to a game but MOTD perhaps gave us a clue. it was a great ball and Evatt had him beat. No good moaning about a push, Daws, there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Beat and knew it. An ordinary incident but it revealed the pressure he and the whole team feel right now, and if he can’t cope then there’s no hope for the rest of them. Or for wins at City and Liverpool in the next 7 days.

Cheer yourself up – the club can’t be bothered to do much to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the greatest side we’ve ever had, unless you believe Paul Coyte talking to someone who wasn’t in that team to be enough. Fear not – wear the shirt with pride. Celebrate in style. The Double won the Spurs way, beautiful passing football. A superb high quality t-shirt featuring the team and the pair of trophies. Completely unofficial from Philosophy Football. Click the photo above or visit them here:  http://www.philosophyfootball.com/view_item.php?pid=700

More about the Double? Read my interview with John White’s son Rob and the co-author Julie Welch of the Ghost of White Hart Lane, the book about John and the Double team that’s a must for any Spurs fan. It’s the next piece down, go on, just scroll down a few centimetres…there it is, see it now.