Spurs Youngsters in England Squad – Next Stop League 2?

February 20, 2010June 6, 2010 / Alan / 11 Comments

Away from the travails of the first team, some good news this week. Spurs have four players in the England under 19 squad, John Bostock, Steven Caulker, Ryan Mason and Dean Parret. Congratulations to them all, and for many of us this may be as close as we ever come to seeing them.

Spurs have a poor record in bringing young players through into the first team. There’s the mighty Ledley of course, probably worth the total cost of the Spurs youth set up over the last 15 years just by himself, and Jamie O’Hara finally became a member of the first team squad before his successful loan at Portsmouth. Otherwise, if your son was talented, even as a Spurs fan, would you recommend that he came to our club? They bubble to the surface in a froth of expectation, maybe flatter at a few pre-season friendlies then sink through the divisions, although often they end up doing a decent job lower down the leagues.

The new training centre in Enfield could assist development but given that we are able to attract presumably some of the most skilful youngsters, we’ve done badly, or to put it another way have screwed up many promising careers. I seldom get to see the young players these days, but if you’re interested there are weekly reports on youth team matches here: http://www.spursodyssey.com. Of the above, Bostock came on as sub in a European game I think amid a buzz of expectation. Standing tall, he showed the poise and demeanour of quality and was apparently uncowed by his surroundings. At 15 he was coveted by all and sundry – there’s a Telegraph article from 2007 entitled ‘Meet John Bostock, aged 15 the Boy Barcelona Can’t Buy’. Now, he can’t get into the Brentford team and has returned from his loan spell amidst recriminations and a little spat between Redknapp and his dad. Word is that John was never quite as good as Palace made out and that he was pushed into their first team ahead of schedule in order to swell his value. Whatever, he’s not making progress with us.

Unfortunately, this is a familiar picture at Spurs, with fans bemoaning our inability to bring young players through. A quick glance at the team sheets of the mid 90s throws up the names of several young hopefuls, all of whom had a chance or two, admittedly during one of our many ‘transtional phases’ (allright, crap phases) but never made it. Caskey, Houghton, Mc Mahon, Turner, Butters, Hill, Allen – they all looked good for their 15 minutes of fame (yes, even Butters) but are now curiosities in the ‘where are they now?’ file. There was a time where the guy at the front of the Paxton was so certain of his ability to pick a future star that he invested in a Spurs shirt with the name of John Piercy on his back.

It’s hard to know if there is a problem at Spurs. Although it is tempting to point the finger at the youth set-up, the reality is that the main problem lies outside the training ground. The demands of the Premier League for instant success are such that it is much more difficult than ever before for young players at any club to break into the first team. There is so little time for boys to grow into men by making mistakes and learning as they go. I’ve written before about the time it has taken for players with experience at previous clubs, like BAE and Huddlestone, to develop into fully fledged first teamers, let alone the young men graduating from the youth team.

This is not unique to Spurs. Few other teams in the Premier League have a large proportion of home grown players in their first team. ‘Home grown’ – what a lovely phrase, redolent of stern bustling landladies with hearts of gold keeping an eye on their boys when they return from training. They feed them up, polish their shoes and are a shoulder to cry on for young men far from home and missing their mothers. These days, the term is meaningless. Spurs and other teams buy youngsters at 16 (Parrett joined us in this way from QPR Bostock from Palace) and we purchase the best of the rest from Europe and beyond, Blondel and Jonsson coming to mind. Why should Spurs invest that much in a youth set up when we can let others do the work, or of course lose our best prospects to the bigger predators.

I have a soft spot for a ‘mum and dad’ story in football. There was a piece in the Guardian recently where Tom Huddlestone, this giant of a man, paid tribute to his mother who had dedicated her life to her then teenage son and his football. The highlight of the otherwise frankly lacklustre White Lane Tour for me (‘and here’s the stall where the boxholders can exclusively place a bet…’) was knowing that Jermaine Defoe bought his mum a West Stand box and she watches every game. Quite why this touches me so I’m not sure. JD is brash and cocksure but I have a vision of his mum grabbing him after the game and telling him not to whine so much and while she was about it, use a tissue to blow his nose instead of, well, the behaviour of street ruffians.

Bostock’s dad stepped in to defend his boy when times were hard for him. John is probably not used to setbacks in his football career so far, so I’m pleased dad was on hand. It’s a reminder that these boys are just that, kids. We demand that they cope with pressure whilst still in their teens that the rest of us could not possibly dream of. When I was 18, I was mootching about worried about greasy hair and acne, girls, exam results and girls, and all I had to deal with was being in the protected micro-society that was university in the seventies. To get where we are, we made endless mistakes and expected a little latitude while we sorted out our emotional growing pains, whereas as fans we impose a totally different, perhaps unrealistically high, set of expectations.

Let’s nurture our young talent. Push them to achieve their potential but remember that some also thrive with a protective arm round their shoulder. As fans we have to be patient and tone down our aspirations. We’re too quick to write them off. The idea of players out on loan, learning their trade in the lower leagues makes a lot of sense. But also let then know that the club is watching them and looking after them from afar. I wish them all good luck. I hear Ryan Mason is highly rated, and if anyone is going to Charlton today, let us know how he and the other loanees do, and try not to compare him with Johnny Jackson, a new arrival at the Addicks, with such a sweet left foot and a career at Colchester and Notts County….I’m sorry I can’t come and see you play more often- maybe we’ll meet at the Lane some day.

The Four Phases of Harry – Can He Keep Spurs Going?

February 17, 2010February 17, 2010 / Alan / 16 Comments

The frustration of the downturn in our form in the New Year should not obscure the progress Spurs have made this year and indeed since Harry Redknapp became our manager. However, we have entered another phase of his regime, one where his leadership skills will be tested severely.

Redknapp deserves full and unreserved praise for extracting us from the apparently bottomless trough of steaming putrid filth that was the Tottenham team in October 2008. As he never stops reminding us, ‘Two points from 8 games’. The team set to and upped both their work ethic and ability to score. Then we entered 2009 and phase two, where just as the new manager bounce lost its elasticity, his heavy investment in new players gave the crazily unbalanced squad he inherited some much-needed equilibrium. In particular, the purchase of Wilson Palacios provided a midfield foundation upon which a team geared to the demands of Premier League football could be built, whilst the return of Keane and Defoe offered striking power and experience.

The dawn of phase three could be the beginning of this season but I would put it a little later. After a month or so, we were right up there, which I suspect surprised both the fans and Redknapp. We played good-looking attacking football and the rise of Aaron Lennon as a major force, much of which is down to coaching, ran parallel with our rise up the table. However, as the pressure of raised expectations increases, Harry needs to act to maintain this momentum and halt our gradual slide down the table. Phase four begins, and Harry’s acumen will be tested to the full.

A graphic of Spurs’ development under Redknapp would take the form of a steady upward curve but Harry has had to build three teams in his comparatively short time with us, not one. The first got us out of the relegation zone, the second targeted the top eight and the third is or will be to challenge for the top four. Those are three connected but separate tasks. Obviously there’s an overlap of players and some qualities in common but we had to build up from the bottom. Phase three demonstrated a potent attack, creative midfield and a mean defence. Unfortunately they’ve seldom been on display at the same time. We rejoiced as the goals flew in and the passes pinged around with pace and certainty, then were quietly satisfied in the midst of one of the longest periods of not conceding in the club’s entire history. But now we have a few problems. We’re stuttering rather than coming to a grinding halt so that in itself holds some grounds for continued optimism, implying that some running repairs are required rather than scrapping the whole model and starting afresh. It also gives Redknapp an asset more precious than a bulging transfer budget or supportive chairman – time. Not a massive amount but some. We’re doing OK but the remedial work needs to begin now.

The biggest issue is that basically we have been sussed. Work hard, close us down and we don’t know quite what to do. That can be worked on, but the most concerning aspect of the last two games, both away admittedly, is the players’ response, or more accurately the lack of it. Against Wolves and Bolton they weren’t ready for the struggle. Here are a few words from Jermaine Defoe after Sunday’s game, taken from the official club site:

Jermain Defoe revealed the lads were on the end of a rollicking at half-time at Bolton and admitted: “We deserved it.”

Players and management alike conceded that we were second best in the first half of Sunday’s FA Cup fifth round encounter at the Reebok Stadium….”We had a bit of a rollicking at half-time and we deserved it because we didn’t compete in the first half.”

Post-match comments from players and managers seldom carry much perspective or weight, so it’s a little unfair to attribute undue significance to these. However, it’s what has gone unsaid that it important. Why after failing so ignominiously against Wolves did we kick off with such a poor attitude at the Reebok? We failed totally in terms of application and motivation. Also, the rollicking was undoubtedly well-earned but there was no response whatsoever at the beginning of the second half. We carried on exactly where we left off and were lifted not by the manager’s words but by a Crouch header. In other words, here is some evidence that Redknapp’s motivational skills, legendary in the minds of a sycophantic media corps, are on the wane.

Another snippet from Sunday’s press coverage was Bale’s comment that we don’t practice penalties, to which could be heard the sound of Spurs fans up and down the land shouting as one, ‘Why not??!!’ Only Harry knows. There’s an old saying in sport that the great coaches pay attention to the details, to the little things, and here’s an example of us failing in that respect.

Now when things aren’t working on the pitch, all teams need a plan B, which brings me to another problem. There was a frightening stat that I saw last week about the team that plays the most long balls in the premier league. Know who it is? Tottenham Hotspur FC. Again it’s unfair to read too much into this. I assume the figures do not differentiate between a wild hoof from the back or an aimless whack from midfield, a precision 40 yard through ball or a cross from out wide. I expect those masterpieces that Glenn Hoddle came out with most matches would be consigned into this category. Other stats show we pass the ball more than any other team apart from the top four. But anyone who has seen us lately knows that we play the long ball to Crouch far too often and as the pressure builds up it is fast becoming our main offensive ploy. Some of us are finding it extremely offensive. Apart from the aesthetics, it does not work. Crouch is too easy to defend against even when he plays well.

Time then for plan C, time unfortunately for the last problem that can justifiably be laid at Redknapp’s door. We don’t have a plan C. Keane is gone, at least for the time being, so it should be time for Pavlyuchenko to step up. He’s mobile, wants the ball to feet, does not want to play with his back to the goal all the time and, when he’s on form, can take his chances. However, Redknapp has always neglected him. He’s not fit, has had little game time and has been on the receiving end of his manager’s scathing ‘wit’. In short, he’s not a ready-made alternative, largely because Redknapp has never handled him well. Whilst he’s not the saviour that some portray him as, I’ll like to see him play because we need a striker with precisely the above qualities, but it requires a big change in our current tactics. We should have been more prepared for this, or not presumptuously have disposed of Keane.

I was not a huge admirer of Redknapp before he come to Spurs so I’m not an instinctive supporter of his. I judge him on his record and he has done well for us. Despite the problems I deserves more time because in terms of building a top four team, 18 months is not that long a stretch and the good he has brought to the club easily outweighs the bad . He’s taken us on from an awful place and has created a good squad of players. It’s hard not to link the tax and court case with our recent tribulations, and he needs precisely the mental fortitude we are seeking desperately in our players to get us through this bad patch. He’s made some mistakes and phase four plus the High Court is a dual challenge he may not have been prepared for.

Befuddledstone, More Like…Oh Dear

February 15, 2010February 15, 2010 / Alan / 21 Comments

Spurs v Bolton – we could have lost, should have won, and we’ll win the replay.

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. Nine days ago our performance against Aston Villa was arguably the best of the season, albeit with a few too many long balls. We dominated the match by imposing ourselves on a quality team and by sustaining our effort and application for 90 minutes. Our centre midfield of Wilson Palacios and Tom Huddlestone ran the show. A few days later, we don’t bother to get off the coach at Wolves. Redknapp was severely at fault with a team selection that unnecessarily disrupted our continuity but no such excuses yesterday. 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.

And while I’m at it – Wolves, remember, no graft, concentration or application and the pain of defeat. This all meant nothing as they carried on from where they left off up there. Maybe there is no pain in defeat after all, but there is for us fans.

Freed from the evil clutches of the ogre Megson, Bolton skipped and gamboled in the wide open meadows of our midfield. Hud and WP clearly enjoyed their pleasant passing game, watching from afar as they made several chances. Mind you, marking Elmander, sitting back was a perfectly reasonable option, just wait for him to blaze it wide. And high. Into touch. Goal kick or throw in, it was all the same to him, and we defended well enough in the box under the Bolton set-piece bombardment.

Then came their goal, well-worked and very well taken by Davies. We failed to put any pressure on the ball in the centre of the pitch. Then, Dawson chose to go with his man across the box. He could have passed him on to a left sided defender but his choice not to should not have been fatal. However, not one of the midfield opted to drop back and cover, so we had only our back four in or near the box when Elmander (oh the irony) crossed it.

Still we did not get the hint. Hud and WP consistently failed to come back to cover their back four, and as absolutely nothing was going on up front, I really don’t know how they accounted for their time. The TV angle means you can’t see so much off the ball and of course ITV kept it especially tight for fear of revealing the sparsely populated Reebok stands and thus giving the game away that actually the Cup was not quite the attraction that every commentator stated it was, every 5 minutes. However, there were two other occasions where these two were ambling back in the face of a Bolton attack, whereas they should have been hammering back at full speed and with total dedication. Wolves would have, Villa would have, so why can’t we?

Enough of the first half. It was a stinking measly effort on our part, reeking of apathy. Harry’s half time team talk had no effect whatsoever as the pattern continued as if the break had not happened. Then Crouch beat the keeper to a cross, hit the bar and everything changed. Without playing especially well we were on top for the rest of the game. Not much of a plan was apparent but at least we had a spring in our step. Kranjcar replaced the sorry-looking Modric, a player upon whom the future success of the club depends but who left the pitch looking forlorn and unloved, reflecting on what was a poor effort on his part. The ease with which we took over said much about the standard of the opposition. They are a decent team, much improved under Coyle but they were stretched under pressure, especially from Bale, our man of the match with his determination, pace and direct running from left back. His advances not only provided chances but also cut off the lingering threat from Lee Chung Yong on the Bolton right as he had to firstly drop back to cover then was substituted in favour of a defender.

Defoe’s goal when it came was a fine move out of place with the rest of our display. He’s been wasting chances of late but this time it was one touch, a perfect touch, one goal. Sadly we didn’t give him much else as the rest of the afternoon was spent in frustration as Crouch’s touches went, well, nowhere near him. More long balls and, from Bentley, poor crosses – it’s not the way forward and Crouch’s good performance against Villa became a distant memory.

Penalties are all in the mind and most Spurs fans winced when Big Tom stepped into the role abdicated by Defoe. He hasn’t got the head for this sort of pressure. For a moment or two I was optimistic as he calmly kept his eyes firmly on the ball while the referee sorted the rest out. Having seen JD miss several penalties after doing a cocky little oh-so-clever Strictly Come Dancing run-up, what else is the lad going to do but his own version of the poxy paso doble. How could it have conceivably crossed his mind that he should take a penalty in this way, especially as Tevez converted a spot kick on TV only a few days before. Didn’t someone tell him? Doesn’t he know he strikes a ball superbly? JUST HIT IT! And Harry’s quote this morning about how in training he just hits them is frankly not at this point reassuring in any way.

I don’t know why I’m making light of this – it was pathetic. More self-inflicted harm from the Marshmallow Men. So it’s back to the Lane where we will win the replay. It’s the long way round but we are two games from a semi-final and if we play to our potential then the Cup is still on. However, the attitude and effort from the players needs to be massively improved before we can think of scoring a goal, never mind win a trophy. Redknapp’s managerial skills are being seriously tested for the first time since we climbed clear of the relegation zone about this time last year.

Finally, thanks and good wishes to the Spurs fans up there, who could be heard loud and clear on TV. I’m not sure the club deserve you.

Tottenham Stories: Always On My Mind. The Do.

February 12, 2010October 17, 2014 / Alan / 8 Comments

The attendant opens the door with a grand gesture and fusses over my coat and bag. More than my gilt-edged invitation, this absurd attention confirms my new-found prominence, and makes me distinctly uneasy.

It’s a break for me, an opportunity to put behind me those wasted years and chances spurned, but my tentative tread as I stroll along the oak-panelled corridor festooned with self-satisfied portraits betrays my sense of not belonging. I affect an air of disinterested nonchalance, trying to take in the grandeur and undeniable beauty without looking like I have wandered in from the streets, a refugee of the London Big Bus Company tour.

The crystal chandeliers lie heavy from the ceiling, their brilliance eclipsed only by the glittering egos of the great and good. And the not so good, as long as they have money to ease their guilty conscience. I glance around, wary of eye contact. With the right person, it’s fine but an itinerant gaze is a sign of desperation. A stirring in one corner: within this room any spontaneity stands out. Adriana throws back her thick wavy hair then bends forward slightly from the waist, the laughter flowing through her body and rippling out to the group of six or seven guests around her. The women look away, the men shuffle a fraction closer and laugh a little too long. She catches my eye and shrugs imperceptibly. ‘What can I do?’

I begin a smile in return but our line of sight is swiftly interrupted by a tuxedo, anxious to secure her undivided attention.

There is an art to these gatherings. My usual chosen option is to skulk around the edges, pretending that I am content in my solitude and that drinking a glass of fizzy water in 185 sips is really how I want to spend my time. However, today I’m at the top table and must drink my fill. An assertive stride towards my target, followed by a firm handshake. I’ve practised my lines. ‘We met briefly at last year’s conference” I lie but they won’t remember me, whether it is true or not. A few short moments to make an impression – in a good way, so my approach is unencumbered by champagne glass or canape. Well chosen words and a card pressed from a clammy palm.

They know after a minute or so. I’m desperately polite and flattering, adding a succinct and devastatingly accurate critique of the new Bill. But they strip all the baggage away – is this guy useful to me or not? After a minute comes the tell-tale glance over my shoulder, seeking someone more worthwhile to converse with. It’s over and I depart.

The hall is full now. As I gather myself for the next foray, an actress few people have heard of is welcomed on stage. I pause, then slip away. Adriana glares at me wide-eyed from across the room, angry and enticing. Now I shrug and continue on my way without a backward glance. The cloakroom attendant purses her lips in surprise as I disturb her flirting with the burly doorman. She hands me my coat and the carefully rehearsed plan is enacted with precision. Two minutes to the exit (unseemly to rush), seven minutes walk to Liverpool Street for the 19.22 and I’ll be in my seat at five to, just before Fulham kick off. It’s a shame that I’ve missed the pre-kick-off chat and atmosphere, but we all have to make sacrifices.