Spurs New Season Predictions – What Do I Know?

/ Alan / 1 Comment

It’s prediction time for Tottenham Hotspur and the new Premier League season.

Some phrases become clichés through lazy repetition, others because there is no better way succinctly to encapsulate reality. Into the latter category falls this short sentence that perfectly sums up the experience of being a football fan: it’s not the despair that gets you, it’s the hope.

If Spurs fans believe this feeling is uniquely ours, we are sorely mistaken. We may rail and rage at our problems over the years but to find the true meaning of despair we have only to look to Newcastle, Southampton or Luton, or even, lower down the pyramid, the loyal fans of Fisher Athletic, for obvious reasons my non-league team, who have gone out of business. Not having a team to support, now that puts our failure to find a left sided midfielder into perspective. Even Newcastle won’t descend to such depths.

However, amongst the Premier League teams at least we can lay a strong claim to the other side of the equation. Each new season brings not just the buoyant optimism shared by fans of most teams but also evidence that change and growth is indeed just around the next corner. A new manager who will really organise and motivate. New players to plug the gaping holes in our defence or a consistent proven goalscorer. No messiahs, thank you, I’d prefer a grafting midfielder.

I confess. This time last year I was culpable. That’s the thing about writing on the web. It’s all there. I admit it. After reading my predictions on My Eyes Have Seen the Glory this time last year, I quite understand if you never trust my judgement again. Whilst expressing strong reservations at Jol’s departure, I nevertheless identified the method behind Levy’s madness. There was a plan, there must be. Preseason went extremely well and Ramos’ lack of transfer activity meant that he had faith in the squad. Players like Huddlestone and JJ had matured into top class performers. Bentley’s signing was a coup. Farewell, in the short time we have had together, it’s been nice knowing you.

The thing about Ramos that I can’t get over, apart from the fact that a guy with his pedigree could get so much so wrong in so short a space of time, is how distant that feels. It’s like another world. Even though most of his personnel remain at the club, it’s so much a bygone era that I almost picture his team running out in baggy shorts and toe-caps. Shut your eyes and smell the dubbin.

But.

Harry Redknapp will lead this Spurs team to a successful season. By successful I mean that we will be meaningful contenders, not for the top four but certainly for Europe and in the cups. The top four will not be keen to face us and we will continue last season’s good run of results against them.

This blog has adopted a weary and cynical tone when describing some of Harry’s activities. Whilst his media persona is carefully created and massaged, his coaching and motivation works. He perfectly understands the essence of Premier League football and shapes his teams accordingly. Frankly I doubt if he could take a team to the Champions League final but that’s hardly in our sights.

Harry will buy the right players for the job he wants them to do. As a result, they will play to the best of their ability. Levy the poodle will stump up the cash, no questions asked. Our teamwork will come on leaps and bounds and in the process we will see some decent passing football.

Redknapp’s work last season unquestionably saved us from disaster. This season we can safely look up, not down, although we may have to be patient. Our injuries in central defence may once again lead to a slow start. That said, we have a strong, experienced defence in front of a keeper who will shine. The midfield can shield the back four but may have more trouble being creative. Nevertheless, we have a fine mixture of skill, guile and pace around a central striker. Also, we have a plan B, i.e. players able to provide an alternative if this set-up is not working.

I’ll write more about the players in the next few posts. In the meantime, in the ‘On Harry’s Mind’ page there are some quotes from our leader (and I’ll be adding to those when time permits). Some of what he says is amusing, some is contradictory, but one statement rings true:

“She [Sandra, his wife] said to me: ‘We were talking about retiring, let alone getting into all this again, Harry’,” he admitted. “But let’s give it a go before it’s too late.”

‘arry may be dodgy but his love for the game is genuine. This is his last chance, and he will give it one hell of a go.

Darren Bent to Sunderland – Goodbye and Good Luck

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Darren’s Bent’s transfer to Sunderland for £10m plus add-ons means we can recoup most of the cash Charlton trousered and have now squandered. His fee was never as high as the often quoted £16.5m and Levy softened the blow with easy payments over three years. So not a bad deal in the end and I wish him well; a decent player and by all accounts a decent bloke too.

You could never tell how Bent was feeling. Happy or sad, he habitually wore a similar fixed expression, the only clue being a slight movement of the eyebrows, up for ‘goal!’ and down for, well, let’s be honest, they were down for a lot of the time. Yet this mask failed to hide his unease at being a Tottenham player. Despite being our top goalscorer, he seldom looked the part and never settled.

His recent outburst on Twitter was rather endearing. In this bland world of media-managed comments and interviews, here was a guy expressing an opinion. No wonder he was hacked off, as delays jeopardised his transfer. It revealed how much he wanted to get away.

Footballers are extremely well recompensed for the inconvenience of criticism from the media and from fans, but being dragged off a plane at the last moment, in front of your team mates, could not have been a pleasant experience for him. Yet this was nothing in comparison with Harry’s famous comment about his headed miss, the one that Sandra could have put away.

In this morning’s papers Bent says this comment hurt at the time and still does, and that he never felt valued by his manager. Remember that Bent invested considerably in our club, turning down a substantially larger offer from West Ham to join us under Martin Jol. It reveals another side of Redknapp, darker than the avuncular father figure image that he so assiduously cultivates. No friendly arm around the shoulder here, but stark rejection. Some Portsmouth players have commented on this same feature. If Harry makes it clear that you are unwanted, that’s a cold place to be.

It also demonstrates that Bent is one of those players for whom confidence matters hugely. We rarely saw him at his best. For all the occasions when he looked sharp in front of goal, these were outweighed by feeble misses, not wide so much but the certainty that he would score was missing in his glazed expression. He waited for something to happen instead of making it so, in the same way that playing up front he hung back rather than attacked the ball. In his head he needed to give himself that extra fraction of a second, but all he did was allow defenders to time and again get in first. He left too great a gap between himself and the midfield, therefore the link-up play constantly foundered.

Neither goalscorer nor target-man, there’s no place at the club for him. I feel odd in dismissing our top goalscorer but the move is right, for him and us. He will do better at Sunderland, a bigger fish in a smaller pond. With less of a burden on his shoulders, it will be nice to see him a crack a smile.

Ossie’s Real Dream

/ Alan / Leave a comment

In a few moments you will read the words of a great Tottenham footballer. Properly, fully, righteously great is what I’m saying here, as opposed to ‘great’ in the modern sense of the word, which in the otherwise vacant mind of many a media hack has come to be defined as ‘slightly better than average.’

Great as in supremely talented, to the extent that his gift enabled him to rise to the very pinnacle of his sport. Yet his virtues would be decried in this day and age. Skilful admittedly, but he could work harder, cover more ground defensively, not take a breather every now and again. With the insight born of the conclusive 57th replay in ultra slow motion, Andy Gray would pick holes in his stamina and positioning. Tut tut.

We mere mortals who delighted in his dexterity, we knew. Our hearts beat faster when he came onto the ball, skipping over the ground, bursts of short staccato steps, hunched shoulders, arms outstretched to offer balance and a measure of protection for his diminutive frame from muscular defenders anxious to disrupt his flow.

Sure he was not a 90 minute man and the fags didn’t help, but it’s what he accomplished in those 20 minute spells when he did play that counts. Then the whole game danced to his tune. He set the pace, a skip, a touch, pass and move, into space, teammates guided towards the pass that would follow not in a moment but in two or three passes time.

A World Cup winner, he held the ultimate prize but remains humble and content with a life in the game, even though that game has hurt him a time or two since then.  A lesson here for the preening precious narcissists we call professionals. Celebrated in his own country but in the drab surroundings of north London he was loved, truly loved, never to be forgotten.

And now, years later, we discover Ossie Ardilles’ real dream. To play once more this wonderful, beautiful game, just for the sake of it. If only.

“ Osvaldo Ardiles concludes his autobiography, Ossie’s Dream, published next week: “And if you asked me, ‘What is your dream, your real dream?’, well, apart from managing a national side in a World Cup, it’s simple: I would give anything to be able to play one more match. I don’t mean a kickabout with some mates. I mean a real, proper football match. Just to walk into the dressing room, all the kit laid out, the new socks, the boots … everything ready.

“Just to do a little run on the spot, a bit of jumping to warm up, then to walk out of the tunnel on to the turf of a real stadium. Just to hear the roar of the crowd and to let my mind compute all the emotions and thoughts and strategies simultaneously: my loved ones, my loyalties, my fitness and, above all, who is going to be marking me? Just to hear the whistle blow, and for the game to start.”

Extract taken from Richard Williams’ column in the Guardian today.

Never Mind Spurs Crouch – What About the Others?

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Tottenham Hotspur’s signing of Peter Crouch for £9m is the most significant element in Harry Redknapp’s team building since he took over as manager. However, most fans, including me, will be resigned rather than excited at the prospect.

Signings in the January window were all about expediency, taking who was available, less about the long term and much more about Premier League survival. As soon as Redknapp had some options available, there was a dreary inevitability about his choice, despite his media protestations to the contrary (see my Harrywatch page).  Harry likes a big man up front and Harry knows what works in the Premier League. Never mind my reservations: Crouch is a decent player and the fact is, why should a man like Huntelaar leave Real Madrid for a team with a proud history but which is not even in Europe. Perhaps we should take what we can get and make the best of it.

I saw Crouch play for Spurs reserves on a couple of occasions, and whilst he looked all right, there was no hint that he could become one of the most sought after and traded strikers in the country, let alone an international. He’s been lucky, playing in an era when top class British strikers have been in short supply. Also, the current fashionable tactics allow for a single central striker, with attacking midfielders cum strikers working around him.

However, Crouch is no Torres or Berbatov, both intelligent, gifted footballers as adept in front of goal as they are setting up teammates with a touch or pass. Crouch on a bad day is a static target man, content to offer scraps to his colleagues. His spell with Southampton showed he was much more than this. I’m not talking so much about his clichéd ‘great touch for a big man’, rather about how effective he looked with the ball to head or feet but crucially in front of him. Give him something to run on to and not be content for him to goal hang or stand with his back to goal.

Crouch himself is not the problem. It’s what everyone does around him that’s important. Fill the team with limited players and Crouch becomes the focus for aimless long ball rubbish. Introduce intelligence and creativity and he becomes just one attacking option, around which the team can flow.

With Crouch up front, team mates under pressure always have an out ball. As he holds on to the ball or even when it is in the air, precious moments are created for our midfield to get forward and turn defence into attack. This helps our defensive play too, reducing anxiety for attacking midfielders wondering whether or not to fall back.

Fine, but they must not be tempted to use that option too readily. England fall into this trap whenever he plays. Men like Modric and Keane can work around him, with pass and move the best way forward, whilst Defoe and Jenas with his runs from deep can work off him, looking for touches and flicks. But when Lennon has the ball, Crouch must time it right and meet it on the run, or drift to the back post for a cross goal header. Immediately several options open up, but it’s what the others do that will make it a success, not just wait around for Crouch to take the pressure.