Spurs v Bremen – Intoxicating, Infuriating, Ultimately Satisfying

September 15, 2010 / Alan / 14 Comments

Spurs opening match in the Champions League was an intoxicating mixture of breathless brilliance and the downright infuriating. Just as we became accustomed to the new model Eurospurs, dictating and dominating to the manor born, as if this were our 51st game in the competition rather than our first, familiar frailties threatened to expose it all as a giant conceit. In the end we discovered a measure of equilibrium and the result not only provides sustained satisfaction, it also heightens the anticipation for the home game against Twente in a fortnight. A point to begin with is fine, four after two matches and the possibilities are staggering.

Wide eyed we marvelled. Pass and move, smooth, purposeful and easy on the eye, punctuated by a few moments of swooning beauty, like gazing into the eyes of a stunning woman for the first time and she looks right back. Two mesmerising moves for the goals, both moving the ball 60 yards with two passes. I roared at the first, gasped open-mouthed at the second. A move of classic simplicity, made to look effortless by outstanding skill and finished with a header that was glorious in its perfection. The opening passages were truly the stuff of dreams.

Our five man midfield was set up to avoid being over-run but we proved how effective an attacking option such a formation can be. The proviso is, we have to have the right players. Last night the blend was almost perfect. Huddlestone and Jenas toiled unstintingly in the centre and crucially could also deliver the ball accurately when required. JJ in particular was excellent throughout, his stamina and passing adding another dimension to that key area of the battle. His selection to replace the off-form Palacios was a bold move by Redknapp and the manager was rewarded with a fine display.

Definition of a class midfielder: Rafael van der Vaart. This guy has got it. In spades. Strong, shrewd and skilful with a great touch and sense of where to be, right time right place. The Bremen defence were permanently on edge as he moved around in the area between back four and midfield. He wasn’t averse to dropping back when we lost the ball.

In the delicate balance between our attacking instincts and the need for prudence lay the destiny of the match. On the left we clearly ran out winners. After the group stages are over, Gareth Bale will be the most talked about young footballer in Europe. He slaughtered an international opponent in a battle-hardened team. In fact the most grief he had all evening was from his manager who appeared to be giving him an ear-bashing for not doing more of the same in the second half.

Over on the other side, the scales tipped the other way. Lennon failed to sparkle but even so he provided width that stretched their defence and kept their left side occupied. His lack of tracking back, however, left our flank ripe for exploitation and Marin took full advantage. In the same way that Bremen did not close us down in the centre, Marin was given far too much room: too often he faced only one man when he should have been double-teamed. His sense of freedom was enhanced by Corluka’s wretched evening. Left exposed, he appeared to have totally lost his bearings, a dyspraxic lost at sea. In vain I waited for this solid player to gather himself. His form has been poor for some time now and is becoming a major concern. His positional play and sound timing always has to be sharp to compensate for his lack of pace, and these resources have deserted him. A favourite of mine, I’m so disappointed.

The strength of our centre backs provided a solid platform at first for our early enterprise and later for some hard defending as Bremen pressured. Kaboul was the pick. This raw talent is maturing in front of our eyes, His application has been superb this season, taking Dawson’s determination to seize his chance in the middle of last season as his example.

Benny. Ben. Benjamin. Benny boy. Benny the ball. Ben Dover no not that one. Ben Jovi. What on earth. You know I like you, wrote about it a few weeks ago. But we’ll never know what passes through your mind. Lovely passes, good support of the attack, nicely timed tackles. Then a wildly misplaced hack up the field. I’ll actually let you off the goal. You could have done more but even if you had, he’s a big bloke and would have beaten you to that ball.

But here’s the thing. Don’t give the ball away unnecessarily. Regular readers (I can dream) know what’s coming…I’m retitling the blog. From now on it will be called ‘Giving It All Away’. It could be sub-titled ‘Severe Ball Retention’ but that would get the wrong sort of interest from Google searches. Here’s the infuriating bit. Keep the ball. Don’t give it away, let them come and get it. Time and again we presented Bremen with possession. Even when we played keep-ball in the last 10 minutes, we had that throw-in and free kick in the far left, in or near injury time, and no one took it to the corner flag. This will come with experience, or so I would wish to believe, but we’ve heard it all before, in the Premier League. It’s the hardest lesson to learn and frankly Bremen should have punished more severely.

As it was, our defence was pierced too easily in the second half. The midfield who were sound by and large, were asleep after the restart. All five of them were upfield, presenting Bremen with a open path to our box, uncluttered by tackles or pressure. Well-finished by Marin but he could not believe his luck in getting that far.

A combination of good fortune, wayward finishing and some good blocks saw us through. Cudicini could have come for the cross that led to Bremen’s first but it was a decent ball (delivered with any pressure being applied) and he was solid enough on his line. Notably his distribution was an asset – on several occasions he passed the ball to team-mates from the box where most keepers would have hacked aimlessly downfield.

The contrast between VDV and Keane could not have been more damning against the Irishman. I say this with no pleasure as in his experience and all-round game is welcome in a substitute. However, he too gave the ball away and wasted precious opportunities, opting for over-complicated passes and making runs that look good but in fact ask far too much of his colleagues. Notice how often his runs require a ball of such precision, into the narrow strip between the back four and keeper, or a ball right into the corner that takes him into safe areas for the defence.

I detest the popular phrase ‘settle for a point’ because it denies potential and restricts ambition. However, the fact of the matter is, an away point at Bremen is a fine outcome. Undoubtedly parts of the second half were excruciating – I covered my face with my hands on more than one occasion – but this morning I was quietly delighted, a feeling that has stayed with me all day. Driving late last night night, I found myself switching from station to station, just to hear the sports bulletins, opening item, “and in the Champions League tonight…”, followed a few moments later by ‘Tottenham Hotspur’. These words are so familiar, yet so distant. Until now that is. Exhilarating and excruciating, this is the Champions League and we are part of it. And I want more.

Look Out, You’ve Been Levyed!

September 2, 2010 / Alan / 23 Comments

The ‘Buy It Now’ price was reasonable but pitched too high for a tried and tested model like that one. Demand and supply fixes the value regardless of the opinions of the vendor, and these days everyone wants these new-fangled gadget phones. This one suited me, just calls and texts. He was open to offers, so I waited, that’s what I do. Tick followed tock followed tick followed tock.

As the clock ran down, I pounced. Once I made my move, he had little choice. The Nokia 3109, brand new, unwanted work upgrade, T-mobile only – he had nowhere else to go. Half his asking price, a quarter of the shop value. I had my prize and the vendor had been levyed.

Levy – verb to extract the lowest possible price, ruthlessly, from a transaction, usually by exploiting the weakness and vulnerability of others

Origin – the chairman of Tottenham Hotspur, an English football club, renowned for waiting until the last moment when purchasing players for the team.

The purchase of my phone is pretty much the same as that of Van der Vaart, bar the 6 zeros at the end of the price. In the past I’ve been bitterly critical of Levy, from the ghastly era of Pleat as the caretaker boss where we so nearly were relegated, through to Santini and Jol’s sacking. However, over the past few years my grudging acknowledgement of his undoubted business acumen has become genuine respect. The club’s long-term future appears to be far more secure than most Premier League clubs and he’s brought some fine players here in the process. Early last season I wrote a piece characterising Levy as Redknapp’s poodle. When he took the job Harry made much of the fact that he had sole control over transfers – no director of football – and Levy, a businessman out of his depth when it comes to football matters, was more than happy to roll over and have his tummy tickled. I was wrong – Levy’s biggest success has been to curb Redknapp’s spendthrift instincts whilst simultaneously enabling the team to develop.

As someone who is to bartering what Kevin Pietersen is to tweeting, I admire his chutzpah. I am the definition of the opposite of pokerface, as anyone who has ever played cards with me will gleefully confirm, yet Levy is prepared to sit it out. More than that, he coldheartedly susses the vulnerability of a prospective vendor and exploits it to the hilt. Word is that other chairmen and agents don’t like doing business with him. I wonder why.

It’s not always worked, of course, as the hapless Ramos will testify. Frazier Campbell for Berbatov, anyone? We’ve clearly been outbid in terms of both fees and salaries for top players in this window. As the tumult dies away, I am more disappointed than I anticipated by our failure to improve the striking options. A top class striker with different skills to those currently available to Redknapp would have done us the world of good. However, I remain convinced that Levy is correct in refusing to pay vastly inflated fees and especially salaries. It’s tempting as we have cash in the bank but there is no reason to upset the pecking order in the club, where good players have been rewarded with generous contracts, team spirit is cohesive and the quality is there already.

Also, and I’m sorry if regular readers have heard all this before, we have to face facts: players may not wish to come here. Fabiano for instance: I’m sure we made a good offer but settled in one of the most beautiful cities of Europe, excellent wages, good team, sun on his back, fewer language problems, swap that for a team with no recent pedigree in Europe, an area of north London containing some of the most deprived communities in the country or, worse, Chigwell, a long hard slog through the winter and a ground that holds fewer than 39,000 people. To me, WHL is a holy paradise on earth but not to everyone.

When it comes to gambling, I understand all there is to know. What happens is, you put your money down, on the card table or at the bookie’s window, wait, then never see it again. But one thing I do know is, for a successfully gambler it helps if you’re lucky. Levy has mastered the art, or likes to think he has. Van der Vaart is a superb piece of business. He’ll provide vital guile and drive in midfield, plus hopefully the intelligence that was markedly absent on Saturday. But Levy and Redknapp got lucky with this one. I suspect we had made a few enquiries, as we have for hundreds of players, but this was a late call rather than the product of a systematic pursuit. Levy had a tip-off at 4pm and the deal was wrapped up by 6, or in fact just after but who cares about that, we had (snigger) ‘a problem with our server’, apparently.

Granted you make your own luck and Levy’s contacts served him well in this case. More importantly, we had the cash to put on the table. If we had had to go through the rigmarole of loans and staggered payments this thing would not have gone ahead, and that’s good finances. But in the end it was his luck that held, not on this occasion his nerve.

Not Nice, But Dim

August 31, 2010August 31, 2010 / Alan / 9 Comments

I’m no nearer understanding quite what happened on Saturday. Sometimes I don’t have the time to write at the weekend. More by accident than design, the delay has given me the time for my anger and frustration to subside, to be replaced by some sense of perspective but I’m none the wiser.

I know what happened, that’s easy. We’re mugs. Stupid. Stupid is the word. A brainless, unthinking, oafish performance. Things don’t go well, fine, they can’t do so all the time, but don’t be dense about it. Have a think, try something different. If lobbing the ball up the field towards Crouch isn’t working, do something else. Don’t lob the ball up the field towards Pav. He’s not on the pitch for that.

If they defend in depth, fine again, try to move it around. Don’t all run forward and stand next to an opponent. That’s where they are so be somewhere else.

What aggravates me is that we know this, we know it, yet still it’s mindless, aimless football. I thought we had got past all this. Maybe not. Seen it before, in the bad old days, all of, 8 or 9 months now, a bygone age when Champions League football was just a gleam in Harry’s rheumy eyes. Now it’s back to haunt us.

I don’t think our players are consciously complacent, in fact the problem is that they are not aware of what they are thinking, but there was no doubt that the collective Spurs football brain was elsewhere at the start of the match. We have to get on top right away, not necessarily blowing away the opposition but dictating the tempo and keeping the ball. We didn’t and were lucky not to go a goal down early on.

What followed was so much rubbish. Old failings reasserted themselves. If Crouch is in the team, the players cannot resist the temptation to wang it forward to him. Young Boys couldn’t handle it but it’s meat and drink to this very average Wigan team. Time and again possession was wasted.

We know teams are going to defend in depth. To get round this, we have to break up their formation by moving around up front with forwards coming away from the back four and midfielders moving from deep into the space to create uncertainty. Also, stay wide to stretch the defence as much as possible. Instead, our forwards and the midfield stayed up for much of the second half in a neat, straight line at the edge of their box. We launch it long, they head it away. Ridiculous and stupid.

Pav and Nico were two bold substitutions. They both offer something different from what had gone before and for a time it looked as if Nico’s movement and prompting would make something happen, but in the end he was sucked into the quicksand of mediocrity like everyone else. I don’t want to blame Gio because he’s young but his performance typified Stupid Spurs. He buzzed back when he came on, then proceeded to idle upfield for the remainder of the game. I’m sure he touched the ball at some point but I need OPTA for final confirmation. And this is the guy who roamed so successfully for Mexico, ranging across the back four just behind the strikers and just what I thought he would do on Saturday.

Goodness knows what the bench were asking them to do. Harry obviously has the right hump. We’ve all wanted to tell Sky to fuck off, regularly in my case, but I’m certain he’s been called worse than a wheeler dealer in his time. Great entertainment, mind, better than the match.

Wigan scored and I felt pleased for their fans – that’s loyalty. One bloke arrived late and nipped up the stairs, clutching his ticket. He looked bewildered on seeing the wide open spaces. The steward obviously said, ‘sit anywhere’ and he seemed confused by this. Not that my mind was wandering at the time, you understand. They looked so happy at full time.

Meanwhile, we sent a postcard to the Prem – come to the Lane for rest and relaxation. You don’t have to do a thing. Just sit back and we’ll take care of everything. We’ll even gift-wrap your 3 points for you to take home for the family.

Deadline day today, thankfully it will be over in a few hours and the cursed ITK will fall back into hibernation until January at least. We need to hang to make a proper judgement, although I must say that the current rumour of Babel on loan is leaving me as stupefied as most of Saturday’s team.

My attitude is unchanged from the start of the season. This is a fine squad who, despite Saturday, will get better. That development will be assisted by the purchase of a top class striker who is quick, mobile and can play on their own or as the middle of three with players joining him from midfield. We don’t really have that option available currently. A classy experienced central midfielder will do nicely too, especially as Wilson’s faults are becoming more apparent by the match – Parker fits the bill for me and would have been perfect during our second half struggles on Saturday.

However, these men are in short supply. We can afford to push the boat out in terms of fees but not in salaries. Why risk the goodwill and squad spirit that has been painstakingly built up over the past couple of years by parachuting in someone on inflated wages. If no one fits the bill, don’t buy. Development takes time – now is the perfect moment to give it a nudge but not if it means buying just for the sake of it.

Spurs v Young Boys: Dancing in the Dark

August 27, 2010 / Alan / 8 Comments

What convinced me was the steward’s hi-visibility jacket. I had been trying desperately to play it all down. We weren’t in the Champions League yet. This was just the qualifier, not yet, don’t get your hopes up, earn it first.

I didn’t notice at first. Trying to get in, yes to see the game but mainly, right now, to get out of the rain. Had to park further away than normal, mind full of traffic problems rather than navy blue and white. No glory in the Blackwall Tunnel. Me soggy and anxious, barcode is bound to go wrong, sod’s law, she’s fussing over the bags of the people in front of us. A little UEFA ribbon round the handle will save us all, never mind the petrol bombs and semtex hidden under the bloke’s coat. Nicely, mind, she’s sweet and kind, her gentle consideration out of place and time amongst the testosterone overload.

Then, the moment that Tottenham Hotspur arrived in the Champions League, for me at least. She’s wearing a Champions League official steward luminous orange waterproof jacket. The circle of stars and everything. Not just something knocked up in the printers on the industrial estate. Official. Probably flown in all the way from FIFA. Someone somewhere made it possible for her to have an official CL jacket. It mattered. We had arrived.

In the ground, cheap plastic flags, corny gesture, leave the atmosphere to us, the fans have done it for the last hundred or so years so we’ll probably be OK on our own tonight, thanks anyway. The anthem on TV sounds so ridiculously pompous, the perfect sign of the overblown self-importance of this competition.

Yet when they played it, I waved my plastic stick like my life depended on it, roared as the whistle blew, took photos, which I never do lest it detract from being part of the moment, of stands rippling with white silk and unbridled anticipation. I wanted to remember it all, a souvenir, but what’s the point – I’m never going to forget it, being there, Tottenham Hotspur in the Champions League, never until the day I die.

The passion from all parts of the ground lifted our men, Dawson I think, to reach an early cross first, but wide and wasted. It was a reminder from the first leg: never mind all the formations, the passing and the pitch, they can’t deal with high balls. That’s it, I said, to no one in particular, that’s it, just get it in, good crosses, either side, get it in. Straight away, Crouch, across the keeper. I leapt as it left his head, it was in, beautifully placed.

It was enough but we needed more. Young Boys move the ball impressively, excellent control, well-drilled, get possession and four or five drive forward as one. Tension in my head but not so much in the ground. My failings: on the death certificate, Terminal Anxiety, Shelf Side, Tottenham Hotspur. Neat and tidy doesn’t score goals and the YBs had little punch up front.

A great atmosphere most of the time, although it was quiet during periods. It never needed to reach the heights because we didn’t have to fight that hard for the win and for once scored the goals at all the right times. It’s always a good time to score, etc, but JD’s success came when the tempo had dropped and the game was becoming too even (blatant handball from my angle, didn’t really enjoy the well-taken goal as much as I should because I was waiting for the inevitable whistle), Crouch again at a flat spot (just cross it, see what I mean) and the penalty to finish it all off, still at a time when they need just two to tie it up.

YBs were not going to get into it themselves but Gomes’ injury could have been a turning point. He looks such a wuss, on the point of tears. I’m not sure what was going on. I’ve not seen any TV coverage of the game and so I don’t know what they worked out from the bench, but Harry appeared to come out and tell him to get on with it, presumably on medical advice. Get through to half time is all very well but it created uncertainly at the back where before there was none and this spread right through the team at the end of the first half. The cross that the 15 headed over left defenders and keeper staring blankly at each other. That was a bad miss and could have presented the initiative to the Swiss.

Otherwise, we were on top without romping away. The pen sealed it and oh what fun we had for the last 10 or 15 minutes. Crouch should not have taken that spot kick. Whoever was the man chosen by Redknapp, Pav I think, should have taken it regardless of a hattrick. Personal glory should be subordinated to the needs of the team. The match was not conclusively won at that point and we need to maintain the ruthless streak through the tournament. Start now.

Churlish to complain, I’m not really, but the match evidenced the oft-made point about the lack of technical ability of English players. The YBs would not survive in the Prem but their ball control was for the most part way better than ours. Once, Defoe was given the ball under pressure but in his stride. A simple trap and pass would have released Lennon but he fumbled it. Crouch, bless him, the ball sailed from ankle to above head high more than once.

Still I’m not complaining. Honest. Bale was always dangerous and Huddlestone impressively directed things from deep. A fine European performance, revelling in the extra space he had, always available even if not all his passes came off. Ledley was always there to head off the pressure and Benny had another good one. Crouch, the Prem defenders can deal with him, nudge in the back, get in first because he hangs back, but Europe may not know this. Two metre Peter our secret weapon against Europe’s finest, who would have thought it?

No comment on the draw. It’s tough but we knew that. Being there is all that matters. With a team including several players who have been with us for a few years, maturing in front of our eyes. We’ve suffered during their growing pains, winced at their naivety, grumbled about their mistakes. But under Harry’s watchful gaze, there they are, our boys, they’ve taken us to the CL. Bale, Benny, Daws, Lenny and big Tom. Although they wobbled, I never lost faith. So very proud of them.

Quiet on the way home, reflecting. It’s only when I reached my house and tried to sleep that I realised the adrenalin was still pumping through my veins in overdose proportions. What is it about this club that makes grown men dance around their living room, in the dark, at 1am, laughing silently, just laughing and laughing. It’s the Champions League and it’s real.