Season 2012-13

What Tottenham Hotspur Means To Me – Martin Cloake

/ Alan / 9 Comments

No match report from the 3-0 cup win against Coventry. I missed this game and can’t concoct a report from 29 seconds of ITV highlights. Instead, the second in a series of articles about what it means to be a Spurs fan. Martin Cloake is a journalist and prolific author of books about Tottenham Hotspur.

In an age where football is examined from every conceivable angle and dissected to the point of extinction, the modern game is in danger of becoming flatulent and predictable, in the process alienating many existing and potential supporters. Yet talking Tottenham with Martin Cloake is a search for something deeper that forms the essence of his relationship with the club. In the process, it’s reassuring to know that whatever it was that originally captivated and entranced us is still around.

Already in this short series, one theme stands out above all else. Whichever route we take, when it comes to Spurs, there’s magic in the air. However, for Martin it could have been so very different. He was brought up in Haringey so Spurs seem a natural choice. In the absence of any existing family allegiances, what else would you do as a football-mad 6-year-old but ask your mum.

“I asked her who’s the nearest team, she said ‘I think it’s Arsenal’ so I thought I’d be an Arsenal fan.”

Then fate stepped in. Martin continues, “That Saturday, they lost. I thought that was a bit rubbish so then, Queens Park Rangers, that’s quite a good name so I’m a Rangers fan. They lost too, so that’s not good. I knew Tottenham were in the other bit of Haringey ( I lived in the west), thought I’d be a Tottenham fan, they won and that was that.”

Martin chuckles at the inescapable conclusion: “I was a total glory-hunting so and so at 6 years old.”

It sounds as if even then he was a bit of an obsessive, which means in this blog he’s among friends. As he read more and more, he realised he had chosen a special team.

“When I started finding out about Spurs, there was this magic about them. That was before I’d even been to the ground.  Pat Jennings was larger than life, a superhero. We had the Mirror every day in our house, I’d read Ken Jones and Frank McGhee. I was 7 in ’72. Nicholson was still there, I didn’t really understand but knew he was something special.”

Even then, Europe had a particular fascination.  “I looked up places where we were playing in the atlas. That was special. The Spurs blog 87Arsenal weren’t doing that! I listened to the ’72 and ’74 finals on the radio.”

For many of us, football provides a rich seam of continuity in our lives. It’s certainly true in my case, where Spurs is the link between the boy and the man. Relationships, jobs, houses and friendships come and go but Spurs is always there. Martin continues to search for more of that magic he discovered as a 6-year-old,and it’s still there in those European nights, which are an integral part of Tottenham’s rich heritage. That search is the heart of the Martin’s latest book, the Glory Glory Nights, co-written with long time collaborator Adam Powley.

“It was part of the reason for doing the book, to rediscover the magic. When I was a kid, there was that bit of magic, where’s Zagreb, where’s Belgrade. It was a pioneering time. That Double team had done something nobody else had done before. They went into Europe. They were the standard bearers for the English game.”

Spurs were full of firsts in Europe, the first to win a European trophy, the first to win two, the first to fly fans to an away tie. However, these days european football is commonplace, with every tie on television and many relegating the Europa League, the latest incarnation of the Cup Winners Cup and UEFA Cup where that Spurs glory lies, to the status of a worthless league for our second string. So has the magic gone?

“It was a different age, that’s true. People going up Everest, into space, running the 4 minute mile. Nicholson, Busby and a few other visionary managers had to fight against the football authorities to be allowed to compete in Europe! Inevitably things can’t stay new forever so some of that has been lost. Familiarity breeds contempt.”

This is no rose-tinted nostalgia trip to bygone, better times. Martin is quick to emphasise that history is still being written. The run to the quarter finals of the Champions League was remarkable because it was so unexpected. He went to all the games that year bar the away leg against Young Boys.

“The Champions League was new for Spurs. The magic was back. We saw some great games of football and surprised our own supporters as well. Yes, the familiarity, the marketing, the over-analysis means the magic has gone from a lot of football but when it comes down to 11 versus 11, those glory glory nights aren’t clichés. When it works, like Bale destroying that team [Inter in the San Siro], that’s what you go for. I’ve never seen Spurs supporters go quite as mental. Nothing surprises you in football these days, but that did.”

The Glory Glory Nights, reviewed here, allows the story of Spurs in Europe to unfold by using those self-same contemporary newspaper reports that fascinated Martin as a boy, plus excellent photos, some of which have not been published before, ably chosen by art director Doug Cheesman to complement and enhance the mood. The sections on the sixties and seventies are eerily atmospheric. The text sets everything in an historical perspective without breaking up the flow and access to interviews from Chivers, Beal and others not only gives the players’ insights but proves that Europe was very special for them too. No other team can tell this story.

Martin’s first game was towards the end of the 1978 season, a 1-0 win over Bolton Wanderers at the top of the old Second Division. “54th minute diving header from Don McAllister. 52,500, schoolboys’ enclosure West Stand.” Martin recalls the details with boyish enthusiasm. “Hairs standing up on the back of my neck seeing the camber of the pitch, getting in for 50p. Spurs had gone down and we had to get behind them to get them back up again.”

He continued to go to home games but drifted away in the 80s when he had a Saturday job and discovered girls and music. He picked it up again later in the decade when he started going regularly with a group of mates who went to a lot of away games. Football remains a social activity. and he’s irrevocably committed now.

“I had to admit to myself years ago that I’m a bit stupid when it comes to football.” He mimics an AA meeting. “My name is Martin Cloake and I’m a Spurs fan! It would take a lot for me to give up my season ticket. That’s what I do, I go and watch Spurs, and I spend far too much time, money and effort on all things to do with Spurs. I’ve done the same as every Spurs fan. Another bad season, that’s it, I’m not renewing, but I know I will always go.”

I pause to remind myself this is not me talking but someone else, such is the similarity of our feelings for the club. This craziness, it’s our reality, but at least this is about as far as it goes for Martin because he’s never done anything too ridiculous in the name of Spurs, apart from a day trip to Austria for an early round in Europe. I wondered if he enjoys it more now or in the past.

“Hmm, not sure. It feels like I enjoyed it more then but I still enjoy it now. I miss some of the edge. It was like in those days you went to gigs, it was overcrowded and there was no fire exit but it was part of being a kid. I got streetwise going to football. It shapes who I am. Some of my best friends, I’ve known over 30 years, been to their weddings, know their kids, that friendship began because we supported the same team. Some of the best times of my life have been going to football.”

Those friendships sustained him through dour times under Sugar and particularly under Graham where going to Spurs became a great day out spoilt by the football. “It wasn’t the fact he was an ex-gooner. We were not investing in the team and going nowhere. There was no light at the end of the tunnel, there wasn’t even a tunnel.”

“One thing I don’t like now is all the arranging, planning in advance. It’s annoying that some spontaneity and anarchy is missing, but there are great times when the ground still bounces. There’s a change in the crowd this year. I never want to be an old git moaning about how things were better in the old days, but something’s around. I like what the 1882 lads are doing, good to see a different generation finding out about the same things.”

Time for some choices. Hoddle or Roberts? Martin is reluctant to plump for one or the other. “I love Roberts’ spirit but Hoddle was the best player I ever saw live, a god to me when I was a kid. Roberts, you couldn’t wish for a more committed captain.”

His favourite Roberts’ story takes up the tale after Robbo put Charlie in the stand. “To let them know he was there, he kept sliding and ended up near the Arsenal bench. Peter Storey asked him if he was all right. Roberts said, yes, then Storey belted him in the eye and said, ‘Well, you’re not f**king all right now.”

Gascoigne is the other player that makes Martin wax lyrical. ” I would just watch him, he was so much better than anyone else. With the Hoddle team you had Ardiles too.” Modric and Berbatov are the more recent players singled out for praise.

And the scenario.  Under manager Tony Pulis and backed by Russian squillions, our long-ball, muscular game will win the league. Alternatively, we play great football the Spurs way, are contenders for the top 6, maybe more, but there’s no guarantee of winning anything. The club’s fate is in your hands. Martin deliberates carefully.

“Well, there’s something wrong about celebrating a 4th place finish but I guess I would have a duty to the club to get a top four place. We could go for the league playing the Spurs way but part of that is that we will find some of screwing it up. With a gun to my head, it’s Pulis and win the league.” He shudders. “I feel a bit dirty now….”

I can’t leave such a warm and generous interviewee on the horns of that dilemma for a moment longer. Time to move on and end with some great memories:

“Perryman, he was one of us, Labour voter, a suedehead….Chivers was a big hero, a goalscoring giant….i was terrible at getting up in the morning and I remember my mum shouted the news up the stairs, Spurs had bought two Argentinians. I strutted into school, Spurs have got two World Cup winners, what have you got!?…I bunked off school to go to Highbury for the cup semifinal in 81, one of my favourite Spurs games, Archibald and Crooks were brilliant, then I queued up all night for the final replay, the greatest final of the 20th century and saw Ricky score the greatest goal in a cup final in the 20th century, you’ve got me now, that’s where the drug started…”

It’s more important than ever in changing times to hold on to our heritage. The debate over our new ground brought this debate to fever pitch. Martin can see both sides but is clear where he stands.

“Look, I buy into the idea but know Spurs is not of its place any more in the sense that people round there don’t go to games, largely because it’s not a well-off area and they can’t afford it. It’s a little like us imposing our memories, creating our own heritage theme park when we go back there. But I’m glad that if the new stadium ever gets built, it will be close to the same stands where ‘glory glory hallelujah’ first rolled out. It was in that same patch of ground. I don’t know if the club realises the mistake it would have made if they had moved [to Stratford]. The magic and the connection the Spurs crowd has with the game is part of knowing that this is where its gone on for all that time. You are in the same stands watching the same pitch where Blanchflower, Mackay, Jimmy Dimmock played. How far do you want to go back?”

Amen to that.

The Glory Glory Nights by Martin Cloake and Adam Powley is published by Vision Sports

 

New Year, I’m Happy

/ Alan / 49 Comments

Domination so complete, I have a crick in my neck from facing in the same direction for too long. Then, finally, Lloris’s bank holiday stroll around his green and pleasant area is rudely interrupted. He saves well, low to his right, two hands. Being alert after long periods of inactivity is another of his many attributes. The reading centre forward has a gaping net but heads the rebound wide. Pressure now, unexpected, unknown since the third minute when he put another bouncing rebound into the net. From the second corner, there’s an almighty schmozzle on the goal line. Legs, bodies, arms raised, accusing glances towards referee and linesman, but play on. A little while later, Dempsey’s celebration is indecently joyful as his deflected shot spirals over a stranded keeper. Spurs’ win is safe, 3-1 now and no way back.

Seasons turn on such short passages of play. Off the line at one end, a lucky goal at the other. If Spurs had dropped any points, it would have been a gross injustice in a match we dominated totally, but whoever said anything about football being fair? For Spurs, not pressing home an advantage and conceding late is not something that could happen, it’s something that does happen. From now until the end of the season, every point will be vital. The pursuit of 3rd and 4th will go the wire. Yet over a successful holiday period, 10 points out of 12 will do and in each of our three wins, we played well in the first half but better in the second, scoring eight second half goals and conceding none.

Our new year is a time to look forward. Without getting carried away on the back of three victories against frankly poor oppositionSpurs blog 88 – Sunderland were limited up front, Reading limited everywhere, Villa just arouse pathos – the signs are all positive. Bearing in mind the fact this team needed major rebuilding over the summer with the loss of both manager and its creative heart, we are moving ahead far more quickly than could be expected. The players are comfortable with each other and with their style of play that at its best offers an outlet for their attacking instincts and at its worst provides a fall-back position of solidity based on hard work. It’s pass and move in the Spurs tradition, easy on the eye and a possession game that’s entirely modern. The proviso is, we keep the tempo high, it’s what suits us best.

It’s significant that almost all of the players have improved in some way since Andre Villas-Boas took over. Fans never truly know what influence coaches have over their charges. However, something’s working. In no particular order, Sandro is a beast of a defensive midfielder who has responded to being his manager’s first choice by becoming an absolute rock. Lennon is having his best season, excellent yesterday. Defoe is scoring, Caulker has stepped easily into this side – I keep reminding myself he only turned 21 last month – while Bale is reaching stratospheric heights as the most dangerous midfielder in the league.

New comers Vertonghen and Dembele look as if they were born to play at the Lane. Their class was evident to whoever scouted them but the way they combine with their team-mates, that’s Villas-Boas again. The Dembele-Sandro axis could be as good a midfield paring as any in the Premier League. Dawson could have been transferred but wants to play and gives everything he has for the team, as does Gallas although his powers are waning not for  want of trying but through the passage of time. Naughton has benefitted from having a few matches in a row, which also means we can rotate at the back. Dempsey has finally found his place after a sticky start, hence his celebration yesterday. All this without Parker and Kaboul, our best centre half.

Of the rest, none has been a disaster. Sigurdsson has taken time to settle, a better game yesterday but best as an impact sub to ensure the tempo stays high towards the end of games. Huddlestone has not picked up the pace that’s required. Walker needs guidance and perhaps some firm words about how to defend, while Adebayor, once the missing link up front, has become the weak link with a series of ineffective performances.

Again, his manager has kept faith in him, seeing the value of giving his choices several games to find their feet rather than chopping and changing every weekend. His patience was rewarded with a classic far post headed goal yesterday. In the first half Manu walked back to the halfway line bewildered after weakly heading wide. This time, he tucked Lennon’s glorious cross into the narrow gap between keeper and post. Strikers thrive on goals and the match was delayed as Manu milked it, eventually emerging from a heap of celebrating team-mates who also realised the value of that goal went way beyond putting Spurs 2-1 up. He looked to the heavens and crossed himself. This has got to be the way forward for religion too. Perhaps after a particularly good service the pope and his cardinals could spontaneously pile on top of each other in front of the altar.

Time rushes by as it does for older people like me but it doesn’t seem that long ago since the season began. Yet the media coverage at the time feels like ancient history. Villas-Boas was incompetent. Couldn’t handle players. Creates an atmosphere. Disharmony among the players was rife according to several tabloid journalists. They could not be more wrong. The players clearly want to play for him, for Spurs.

I’ve deliberately not mentioned Hugo Lloris, destined to be one of the finest Tottenham goalkeepers in modern times. Then, the papers had a hotline to Didier Deschamps and printed how unsettled he was even before he was actually fit to play. Now, his gradual introduction into the side appears a masterstroke of man-management and he’s been able to extend the redoubtable Brad Friedel’s contract. Lloris is sharp and agile on his line and seeks to dominate his area, which in turn means we play a back five, him included.

Yesterday we were unperturbed after that early setback, settled into our rhythm, kept the ball and kept probing. Dembele was back on top form after a few quiet games. The way he drops his shoulder and is gone is a sight of subtle beauty. This big man can disappear, at least as far as his marker is concerned. Sandro’s strength and Reading’s inability to get the ball forward – it seemed like they went for half an hour without holding onto the ball in our half and Lloris did not have a save to make until late in the second half – gave him the freedom to stay forward where he is dangerous.

Without Bale, suspended for the new offence of being too quick and too good, we lacked width. Naughton did well throughout but is very right-footed so we were narrow at times. As the half ended, we gave the Reading keeper shooting practice with a succession of efforts from too far out but come the second we upped the pace and put more balls into the box.

We begin the new year in 3rd place, albeit having played two more games than Chelsea, but the optimism is real. There’s plenty more work to do. Although we have beaten United we have lost to all the teams in top four contention bar West Brom, who I think will not quite keep up. It’s not so long ago when we were conceding stupid late goals and we still can’t defend a lead with total confidence. Nor do we convert our many chances as often as we should. We get more men into the box these days, finally answering my whinging about this problem that has gone on over the life of this blog, but on crosses especially we should pile into the six yard box not hang back.

In the window, Tottenham On My Mind will do everything in its power to retain the status of The Blog That Knows Nothing (TKN) and will stay resolutely ITK free. But we need a striker from somewhere. If Adebayor goes to Africa and Defoe is injured, that’s it! If Moutinho is available, I would buy him even if we pay over the odds. Buy two players and it will make all the difference.

We have to take the long view. An interesting piece in the papers recently suggested that Levy did not fully back his new manager in the market in the summer, preferring to wait and see how he does. Whilst I’m not entirely sure that is a ringing vote of confidence exactly, Villas-Boas has shown more than enough potential to be worthy of greater investment. He deserves the backing of his chairman. Looking ahead, this summer we will be again be vulnerable to bids for Bale, Sandro and others if we are not in the Champions League or have not won anything.  The squad is young and like its manager still developing. The potential is rich and we must do all we can to see it fulfilled.

Happy New Year to everyone who takes the time and trouble to read this old-fashioned one-man no ads labour of love blog, especially those of you who add to the rich debate in the excellent comments section. You are a select bunch but I’m genuinely touched by the number of regular readers from all over the world who come back every week. I’m deeply grateful.

 

 

On The Feast of St Gareth

/ Alan / 9 Comments

Fears of a Villa backlash after the Chel**a defeat were quickly dispelled as Tottenham Hotspur imposed themselves on the game and established the pattern of dominance that lasted almost as long as that of the Roman Empire. This was less a victory, more a rampaging conquest – we were so much on top, the Brummies left the ground speaking with cockney accents.

The first half gave Spurs territorial superiority with nothing to show for it, bar the fact that Walker can’t take corners. In the second, we upped the tempo. When we get one, we’ll get more, and Gareth Bale tore the Villa defence apart with a hat-trick. As emphatic an away victory as Spurs will ever get in the Premier League. It could have been more, and the only talking point from the match is which was the best goal.

Poor Villa. I’d say this was the most one-sided game that I’ve ever seen in the Prem except I saw them play Chelsea on Sunday. Manager Paul Lambert has been given the opportunity to build rather than buy a team but some of the players on show yesterday are so far from the first team, he probably used this week’s training sessions to get to know their names never mind where they played. If ever there was a lesson that modern football is a squad game, their experiences this week are it. Without intruding on private grief, all I’d say is that he had enough problems with finding a team after a series of injuries without making them play in an unfamiliar formation. The double whammy of young men playing 3-5-2 or yesterday with only one striker was far too much. They were all over the place until they came out with an enforced 4-5-1 at the start of the second half when they briefly improved.

I half-expected Villa to come at us out of the traps. Instead, they were more like the stuffed hare. Spurs notched up a first half corner count of 15 to 1 (good title for a gameshow, that) and had 11 shots on target without reply. Bale was always dangerous on the left and we fed him regularly because we had so much possession. Villa keeper Guzan was ironically their best player, saving well from Bale and Defoe.

However, Spurs weren’t completely convincing. Once again there was no drive from Sandro and both Dembele and Adebayor were anonymous throughout. The link-up play between JD and Manu was poor for the third game in a row. Walker did well. Given a free role a little like Bale’s, he used his freedom to come off his wing to good effect, relishing the chance to be temporarily freed from his defensive duties. Good tactics from Villas-Boas.

But this is Spurs, and come, we’re among friends here, when Villa played a bit after half-time, you had that lingering doubt that all that possession would be wasted? Am I right? Ironically the goal that opened the floodgates was on the counter after Villa’s best attacking move. The attack seemed to have lost momentum in the left corner when Naughton’s through ball, perfect in every way, let Defoe in for a right-foot finish.

The second soon followed, again started from deep by another simple, effective pass, this time from Lennon, as Bale rampaged into the wide open spaces of the Villa half. He took it calmly round the keeper to finish with the touch of a master striker. Except this guy used to be a full-back.

Parker was on now, the right substitution to snuff out any doubts at the back and keep Spurs busy. One touch to control the ball, the second to pass it on. That’s the way to play. You can’t make too many long-term judgments from a match like this where we had so much space but Parker’s arrival upped the tempo and eased everyone into the quick pass and move that suits us so well.

Lennon had another good game as part of the supporting cast. This is best season for us. He set up the third, releasing the ball at just the right moment for Bale to tuck the ball away from the heart of the box. He scored his hat-trick from the same spot, putting a Siggy pass to the keeper’s left this time. Please don’t take Bale for granted. He’s a world-class talent. I’ve not seen his like since I began watching football in the sixties.

Finally, a word of praise for William Gallas. Not his most taxing afternoon but he did not put a foot wrong, defending on his own during a little wobble when we played the well-known Christmas parlour game – in a space roughly 60 yards by 30, how far apart can 4 defenders stand? Ever-watchful and reassuring.

A cliche but in my case it’s real so what the hell – all I wanted for Christmas was 3 three points (well, and a turntable for my vinyl but that doesn’t fit so neatly). We came, we saw, we conquered. Lovely stuff.

 

No Joy At White Hart Lane

/ Alan / 10 Comments

The dreary combination of Stoke’s lack of ambition and a lacklustre Spurs side drained the life from this sullen and joyless match. By the time the referee mercifully ended proceedings, the bright opening period was long since forgotten. Dodging the downpours and puddles on the way home seemed by far the most reasonable option.

Stoke arrived with a reputation and a glint in their eye. They clearly feel that Spurs don’t like it up ’em. We played the right team, Dawson back with Vertonghen on the left so plenty of height at the back with the Beast to add more protection. Yet we never really got going. In the first few minutes, Walker under no pressure passed the ball across his box straight to Jones who blazed over. We thought things can only get better but in fact that sums up the entire game. Like Walker, several Spurs players were diffident and distracted, having a peripheral influence only.

The referee added to the disjointed pattern. Booking Sandro and Vertonghen for high feet seemed harsh, then Whelan, the ‘victim’ on both occasions turned the clock back 30 years with a cynical, deliberately late challenge with nothing but retribution on his mind. No card. Meanwhile the keeper broke down the act of taking a goal-kick into 367 separate movements, all of which had to be executed, in order, before the kicking the ball. Aggravating though it was, their reputation preceded them. At one point the crowd barracked the ref with ‘you don’t know what you’re doing’ when he’d given us a free-kick.

Anyway, none of this should obscure the lack of creativity and passion in Spurs performance. Sometimes you realise the true value of players when they are absent or have a poor day. Yesterday, Sandro’s drive and power was largely absent. It left a hole in the centre when we moved forward. Our attacking moves dissolved into isolated runs from individuals and we never established that high tempo which characterises our best work.

Dembele’s firm, angled passes were several times on the point of fashioning a chance but Stoke’s blanket defence stifled our efforts and the Belgian faded from the game as he has done since his return to the side. Adebayor didn’t think or work hard enough, while Defoe picked up the mood of the game and returned to his blast ’em from long range mentality. Both should have done more to work the back four.

Watching Spurs, I like to seek understanding even if inner peace is beyond any Tottenham fan but for the life of me I don’t get why Lennon and Bale swopped wings for almost the entire second half. Maybe it was because Bale slaughtered their left back, Wilkinson, a couple of years ago. Rather than creating width, they continually came inside which compressed the play, playing right into Stoke’s hands. It wasn’t as if Walker was moving into the space Bale enables in this way. Lennon faired better, running with the ball searching for a gap but usually the runs ran out of steam. Bale was relatively quiet but still set up a few chances from crosses in the first half and headed over at the far post in the second. His leg had so much multi-coloured strapping under his shorts, it looked like a squirt of SR toothpaste. He was feeling his way back into things.

Belatedly AVB realised that we needed to pep things up. Siggy came on and duly obliged. If we are trying the answer the question posed earlier this season of what exactly he does, for the moment this is it, to raise the tempo and/or defend from the front if we are ahead. He nearly won it with our best chance, a fine header that the keeper saved superbly low to his right. It was a thrilling flash of brilliance that faded as swiftly as it began, totally out of keeping with the rest of the game. Parker was on too – he could see it, dashing around like a mad thing at a corner. Pointless bringing him on to do this with 5 minutes to go. He might start at Villa – he’s ready to go.

While the thwack of Stoke boot on ball is still ringing in my ears, the fact is that they were quick on the counter and missed good chances, the best bringing a fine save from Lloris after the ball took a slight deflection from Caulker from close in. Also, we played into their hands and by the end were knocking it forward too, as we all drifted forward when we should have been moving around to shift their defenders out of position. Without width or guile, we made it easier for them to stay put in formation.

We are still there in the pack that’s bubbling under and we need to pass judgement only after the Christmas programme is over. Yesterday we forgot what makes us good. Pass and move, pass and move. We should know better by now.