Depressingly Familiar In The NLD

/ Alan / 30 Comments

So let’s get this over with. Another defeat in the derby. Another reminder, if any were needed, of the gulf between the two clubs and how far we have to go. More pain for Spurs fans that is never dulled by the sad, predictable familiarity of it all.

On March 3rd last year an ambitious Tottenham side expertly guided by a young manager beat the wanderers 2-1 at White Hart Lane in a pulsating match. Many gunners agreed with me that this marked a tipping point. On the way up, we passed them sliding down the greasy pole, their manager subject to bitter, sustained criticism from his own fans and unable apparently to convince both them and his players of the efficacy of his methods.

This seems light years ago now, events in a galaxy far, far away. So much ancient history, in fact, that I’ve checked back to make sure my memory isn’t befuddled by a lack of sleep this morning. Nine months on, Spurs have imploded while 55,000 gunners sing Wenger’s name to the rafters. Pointing out the fickleness of this behaviour is justified but scant consolation. He’s kept faith in the way he wants his team to play, we’re still painting the Forth Bridge, shiny and gleaming in parts but never finished.

There are extenuating circumstances. Tottenham put out a good team but it was nowhere near full strength because of a hospital ward full of injuries. At least with Sandro and Paulinho we could have put up a fight in midfield or had Vertonghen to inspire us at the back. No criticism intended of one of their replacements, Nabil Bentaleb, given his debut at 19 in the NLD, looks an able, promising central midfielder with good mobility and touch plus an eye for the pass, typically an early one to keep the ball moving. He intercepts rather than tackles but is effective in so doing.

I look forward to his further development as a Tottenham Hotspur player under a manager keen to give youth the chances they have lacked not just at Spurs but throughout the Premier League. Sherwood is keen to stamp his mark on his early tenure in the job and in any walk of life I have some admiration for women and men with the courage of their convictions. However, persisting with his 4-4-2 for a cup tie of this magnitude was overoptimistic at best, foolhardy at worst, in reality probably somewhere in between.

A flexible, mobile five in midfield would have been better. Sherwood can do flexible and mobile, better than this season’s version of AVB. Adebayor’s significance in our current set-up cannot be over-emphasised. Yesterday he kept going but looked lethargic, quickly tiring after an enthusiastic start. You can never tell with him. I think we sometimes over-interpret his moods – it’s natural that he will be tired after his absence and so much football in a short space of time.

Whatever, it made a huge difference. Several times he half-turned to take the ball past a defender only for his marker to easily tackle him. Dropping back when we lost the ball, he faded after 15 or 20 minutes, precisely the time Ars***l took a grip on the match, never to let go. It was always going to be hard in that area – Manu’s disappearance made it impossible. Afterwards Sherwood conceded we were weary – if he knew that beforehand, he should have compensated in his team selection.

Spurs started brightly. Bentaleb was prominent in the middle and certainly not over-awed, pointing and hustling for all he was worth. Our opponents could not settle and another of our busy men, Eriksen, missed the best early chance, clean through but shooting straight at Fabianski. Sadly it was the only time in the match he was seriously called into action.

Unusually for the NLD it was an open game with Spurs successfully keeping the tempo high when we had the ball and getting the ball forward as quickly and smoothly as possible. This desire to pass it forward is one of the big differences between TS and AVB. Lloris saved from Walcott and Eriksen put a free kick over after Dembele had been fouled. Twice Soldado’s swift turns took him away from his marker – more please.

Halfway through the first period, imperceptibly and without any fanfare, the balance of the game shifted. Now, the gunners were pushing us back, able to shift the ball from side to side and stretch our four out of shape. They looked sharper near our box, able to up the pace suddenly as they neared the area whereas we in similar circumstances ground to a halt.

Their goal when it came on the half hour was well-taken but too easy. Walker was drifting a few yards out of position on the right, which as we know is a fault in his game he seems unable to eradicate despite his good performances this season. Ars***l shifted it from right to left, Cazorla was the spare man.

The NLD is nothing without its tradition and so history repeated itself. Spurs imploded. This fixture seems to bring out the worst in Spurs. There have been times when L’gooners have simply been far too good for us. I don’t like it but there you go. After all, plenty of time to have gotten used to that over the years. What grates is our unerring ability to cock it up in this fixture. Maybe it’s just the way it looks because of the importance of this fixture. Plenty of cock-ups in other games, let’s be honest. But surely – 5-0 and Liam Brady at WHL, the double Double indignities at the Lane, we score four they score one more, Simon Davies sent off and a deflected goal, Manu scores and gets himself sent off, 2 up under HR, lose 5-2…

We came out after the break with renewed application but weren’t really getting anywhere, save for an Adebayor chance well-created by Eriksen and Lennon. His control was good, his shot mis-hit. Then Danny Rose, hero on his debut with a winning volley that will never be forgotten, turned villain. Last defender, on the halfway line, the attempted Cryuff turn wasn’t the best option. It was stomach-turningly, spectacularly awful. Rosiciki ran through and gleefully scored.

My son who was at the match tells me Danny’s mum was there, in the Spurs end and happily chatting to supporters before kick-off. It’s tough being a pro, worse perhaps to be a parent when your son makes a mistake like that. She must have wept at the things she heard about her boy. I hope she and Danny stay strong.

And that was that. Spurs had the lions’ share of possession for the rest of the game without getting anywhere at all. The gunners strolled through the last half-hour, absorbing our efforts without breaking sweat. They did not play especially well and there’s a crumb of comfort in the fact that they only scored through our mistakes, but they did not have to be at their best to win at a canter.

Another depressingly familiar feature of these games: Spurs working hard, looking for chances, movement pretty good too, then the truth gradually dawns. Nothing was happening and nothing ever would.

Walker did his best to put things right, flying forward at every opportunity and occasionally giving us a glimmer of hope in his work with his partner Lennon but nothing really came of it apart from a few easily defended crosses. Lennon could have done more to take on his full-back but they always had two or three men to cover. Cazorla’s handball in the box looked as much hand to ball as ball to hand but nobody seemed that bothered. Everybody knew we were beaten.

Sherwood needs to reflect on yesterday without panic. Palace next Saturday will need the attacking approach he favours, so the team should look forward not back. I think Capoue could and should play a part in the next few games. Meanwhile, back to the doctors and physios – those get well soon cards won’t be enough on their own. Defeat hurts, but the fact is, the result merely told us what we already knew.

Hats Off To Spurs, Winners Again

/ Alan / 13 Comments

The unexpected victories are often the best. If you truly thought Spurs could beat United, I take my hat off to you, because I didn’t, and enjoyed this win more than most precisely for that reason. Every player exceeded my expectations and the manager’s tactics and motivation were spot on.

Sure, we nearly threw it all away – more of giving away goals and penalties later – but this is Spurs, and the overall performance more than compensated for the tension of the last 15 minutes. A lovely win.

A lot has been made of Sherwood’s 4-4-2 and his comments about liking to take a few risks. What’s more significant is the variation he has employed, partly to adjust the set-up to the demands of different opponents, partly to compensate for injuries and suspensions beyond his control and partly as an element of his crash-course in How To Be A Premier League Manager.

Having smoothly disposed of a weak but negative Stoke side, Sherwood faced the very different challenge of defending against United for lengthy periods. When United had the ball, we kept a familiar shape but everyone dropped five yards deeper whereas against other teams we have pressed near the halfway line. The full-backs conspicuously did not get forward very much except on the break or on a run from deep when they were covered by a team-mate. Eriksen stayed wide left.

As a result, we were better than we usually are at stopping crosses at source and it was only when the Reds began to  bang them in late on that we looked in any consistent danger. Hardly surprising – we tired after massive effort for the whole game and by then United were playing a 0-10 formation with virtually an entire team of forwards.

Key again was Abebayor with another excellent performance. His movement for the goal bamboozled Smalling into submission. He foraged deeper, dropping off with or without the ball and leaving Soldado usually the furthest forward. However, they interchanged as required. The pass before the pass for the assist in both Spurs goals came from the Spaniard, cut free from his anchorage at the edge of the box under AVB.  Manu thus got in the way of United’s attempts to build from the back, although Cleverly and Carrick were inconsequential, while Lennon kept Evra fully occupied so he seldom was able to get forward.

Sherwood is a good communicator too. The players could not have responded in a better manner. Their effort and application was universally excellent, the tempo high when we had possession. Capoue was solid and economical, providing a sound base. I like him: good positional sense, an awareness of what’s going on around him, he wins it then gives it quickly. In one terrific move from defence to attack before half-time, he touched the ball 6 or 7 times, keeping it moving. Alongside him, Dembele is ferociously active.

With Eriksen we have the Modric Conundrum – he can play there but it’s not his best position. But he’s clever – witness his popping up on the right to cross the ball plumb onto Manu’s forehead for a classic far-post header, our opener. Plus he’s involved. He may like being the number 10, it may yet be his best position but his whole attitude and demeanour has changed for the better since he dropped back because he’s on the ball much more and is willing to take that responsibility. He’s eager and wants to play, which come to think of it sums up what Sherwood has done with the whole of the side. Like Redknapp at his best, Tim has given each player a role that suits them, as opposed to AVB who persisted with square pegs in round holes. Even the subs leapt to their feet in delight when we scored.

I haven’t mentioned Lennon yet. He should have crowned a fine performance with a goal, hitting De Gea early on when clean through then sliding the ball wide from the left in the second half. It would have made the game safe but as it was we had to endure another fractious and nerve-shredding 15 minutes or so. He should also have had a first-half assist when poor Soldado failed to convert his low cross at the far post.

Lennon did set up our second, his deflected cross from the right bouncing into the area. Valencia rocked back on his heels, apparently transfixed, whereas Eriksen delightedly pounced on the opportunity to dive forward and head it home. I thought De Gea could have had stronger hands and done more but then again I was in mid-air, not analysing.  United never coped with his pace and it’s noticeable how well he not only times his runs from deep but also the angles he decisively employs, dashing into space where it hurts the defence most.

After a bright start when Welbeck nearly scored and Hugo punched the ball away from outside the box (no foul), it was strange to see United so ineffective near our box for lengthy periods, but hey, I could easily get used to this. Apparently however this is not our destiny. Two up, we immediately came over all Spursy and conceded immediately. Could not have been more convenient for the Mancs – Chiriches let Welbeck run behind him, good finish – but the real problem was the ease with which the pass from deep reached him. No pressure on the ball.

Predictably this gave United momentum for the rest of the match and we were under intense pressure. Adebayor was carried off and we were more vulnerable for that loss. However, Lloris made four good saves plus a diving defensive header from the edge of his box that reached past the halfway line! Saves and bodies in the way, fighting spirit., Moyes cunningly moved Rooney, their most dangerous player, back to deep midfield and confused his team with his substitutions, so we made it.

Apart from one scare. Better to be a lucky manager than a good one, as the saying goes? Late on, Lloris launched himself wildly at Young, took him out at both ankle (right foot) and waist (left foot) but no penalty. After the Mendes “goal” and the Gomes “penalty”, I indulged in a moment’s karma and could not resist a chuckle at Moyes’ ashen-faced post-match apoplexy even though he was right in hammering the ref for a lousy decision.

I thought Smalling handled an innocuous cross in the first half when under no pressure but MOTD showed a replay. Not part of a narrative that focussed on United’s bad luck over the decisions rather than Spurs’ excellent performance that warmed this slightly soggy heart and soul.

Thanks to everyone for their good wishes after my flood and the loss of my Spurs programmes – frankly touching response, deeply appreciated. I will spare their blushes but the three best-known Spurs authors are kind, generous and entirely worthy of any money you invest in their books, so buy them. The piece is really about the hold the club has on our passions and emotions, which is the single most important theme of this blog, and that woe betide those who seek to undermine that. A very Happy New Year to you all.

Flood Damage

/ Alan / 48 Comments

Christmas is the season of goodwill and I for one got to know my neighbours better this year. Popping into their houses, the presents round the tree, excited bright-eyed children, deciding whether or not to evacuate. Tis the season to be jolly and in our case, you had to laugh or else you’d cry. Come to think of it, just the crying bit really.

I spent Christmas Eve and early Christmas morning alternating between taking as many of our possessions as possible upstairs and watching the floodwater creep towards the house. Late afternoon, as my neighbour and I paddled in our flowerbeds, we confidently reassured ourselves that it could not possibly rise another two feet and come into our houses. Could it? It’s not as if we live especially close to the river.

By 2am as it lapped over the top step, I was less sure. There’s nothing you can do to stop the water getting in. People rush to get sandbags but unless you are the Royal Engineers, all you get are wet sandbags to move out the way later as you bail out your front room.

In the end, the top step is where it stayed. No damage to the house. We were luckier than many others and Spurs blog 106grateful for that. The garden and the summerhouse were completely submerged under a few of feet of water – see below TOMM Exclusive Pictures! Unfortunately most of my Spurs books were submerged too and need replacing, a blow but they are insured and easily replaceable these days via ebay and Abebooks.

Boxing Day morning I went to clean it up, took one look and did what any self-respecting householder would do: closed the door immediately and went to the Lane. It was only the following day that I realised what else had been ruined – my entire collection of Spurs programmes. Snug and warm for many years in the loft, just a few weeks ago in a sudden and uncharacteristic burst of organisation, I shifted them into the summerhouse so all the football stuff was in one place. I hope my nearest and dearest recognise that my future untidiness isn’t a sign of lazy neglect but has a clear and distinct purpose to avoid all possibility of future disasters.

It’s hit me hard. Sure, I can retain perspective on all this. To repeat, we were lucky not to lose anything else or experience the months of disruption and misery that is the drying out period following a flood. My wife’s cousin lives in Boscastle and it took them over a year to get back to normal, having made a frantic dash up the hill to save themselves as the deluge swamped a town never mind a glorified garden shed.

I am simply being honest in saying I am very sad. I’ve lost my collection but I’m not a collector. Apart from a few exceptions, I went to every one of those games and brought back a programme. They are not in pristine condition although I’ve looked after them carefully, lovingly even. They are creased and tattered from being shoved in a pocket or down my trousers, the safest place because in the crush on the Shelf or at Wembley they could easily fall out and be lost. These are my memories and I wanted to keep them safe.

With time and effort I can probably buy replacements but it won’t be the same. I didn’t pay for them at the ground, usually outside the Red Lion pub on the corner of the High Road and Lansdowne Avenue, for many years the first place on the route from Seven Sisters to the ground where programmes were on sale. As a kid I wanted to get hold of one as soon as I could, feel the smoothness of the glossy paper, anticipate the pictures of my heroes inside, the secret, special information you got only from being there to get a programme. Nearly there, five minutes more and I would see the stands, inside in 10 or 15, longer if it was a big game, and onto the Shelf. I held my programme and I was a Spurs fan.

Spurs blog 10866-67, Sheffield United. The score is written in childish ballpoint, it reduces the value for the collector but it’s my first game, so priceless. Late 60s, a photo of Jimmy Greaves (they always had photos of the goals in those days) sliding the ball past the Newcastle keeper, as nonchalantly as if playing with his kids in the park yet he’d weaved from the halfway line through half their team. My favourite player scoring my favourite goal, signed many years later by the man himself when I was lucky enough to interview him for ten precious minutes.

November 1970, away to Chelsea, the programme already ruined because it was soaked despite being deep inside my dad’s pocket. He’d taken me to my first away game. He always worked on Saturdays, not the slightest bit interested in football yet for some reason he took this afternoon off and my mum worked an extra day in our little sweet shop, just to take his football-mad only son to a game. It rained torrentially for three hours (of course I had to get there early) and we stood unprotected on the open terrace at the away end. Soaked like the programme, which I carefully dried out and kept even though the pages were stuck together and unreadable, but who cares – two nil, Mullery late volley and dad. It won’t dry out a second time.

UEFA Cups, the Ardiles testimonial and Diego Maradona in a Spurs shirt, Feyenoord with Guillit and Cryuff taken apart in the best 45 minutes I’ve ever seen from us. Under water. The 81 replay, a few quid on ebay but not with my ticket stub, not in my section behind the goal, leaning over screaming at Ricky to shoot, but he didn’t, he didn’t. I saw it clip Corrigan’s body as it rolled towards me but not Villa’s celebratory dash into the arms of grateful astonished team-mates, because I was in heaven.

91 and the semifinal, on the halfway line at Wembley, for one crazy day the authorities saw sense and made the best seats in the house the family enclosure, that will NEVER happen again, on tiptoe with my late son as the bloke behind me screamed at Gazza not to shoot because he’ll never score from there. Andy and I will never be able to reminisce about that moment together but I have something to remind me. Had something.

And most of all, the midtable, the mediocre, the mundane and the meaningless. The seventies, eighties and Spurs blog 107nineties, Division 2, all kept with the same care as the glory glory nights, organised by season, flat in cardboard boxes that have followed me through relationships, marriages and housemoves. They all meant the same to me, because I was there, I was watching the Spurs.

I can’t remember exactly when I stopped, some time in the late nineties when ticket prices were going up and up, the programme was £2.50 or £3 and told you nothing of any value whatsoever. The programme used to be a valuable source of information – by being there, you knew things lost to the stay-at-homes and the MOTD watchers. The tone was parochial and patrician, like a old-fashioned headteacher talking down to his pupils, but it felt like there was a connection between club and supporter.

Now the programme is glossy, well-produced and meaningless, another over-priced symbol of the distance between us. It’s slick PR for all the ways they can take our money. I’ve written several times about how the contemporary Premier League increasingly alienates clubs’ core support. Extortionate ticket prices, no involvement or influence, supporters treated as background extras by television companies intent on making their cash from those who stay at home, changing kick-off times, owners changing strips and names on a whim.

As we enter another year, the alienation hangs over the game like a pall of glutinous smog. We try to resist but it seeps into every fibre of our lungs, through every pore. At Spurs, it’s there waiting to overflow. Like the river that burst its banks, most of the time the currents flow undisturbed but occasionally something happens to force an unstoppable torrent through the most resistant of barriers and flood defences. Once out in the open, it’s impossible to put things back the way they were.

Regardless of the merits of Villas-Boas’s sacking and Sherwood’s appointment, the anger at the way we have been treated, the missed opportunities, the directionless management of the chair, the money we pay, has sliced through the thin veneer of acquiescence. There is booing, abuse, fury sometimes. Tottenham can’t carry on like this.

For me, one Act of God over which I had no control has destroyed one part of a lifetime of supporting Spurs. I still have the memories. For this New Year, more than anything else, I wish that the little boy who sits two rows in front of me, who laughed and sang in his father’s arms when we scored our third on Sunday, who loves every second of being part of the crowd, will look back with pride and fondness on his memories when he reaches my age. Other kids his age won’t because their families are forced away by scandalous prices. There’s a real danger the game itself is hell-bent on permanently ruining the unique, glorious, passion of supporting Tottenham Hotspur or any other club for that matter. Despite everything, they can never take the memories away.

Sincere thanks to everyone who has read Tottenham On My Mind this year, especially those who take the time to make the comments section so fascinating and insightful. You have no idea how much I appreciate it. A happy and peaceful New Year to each and every one of you.

Frolics And Goals At The Lane

/ Alan / 15 Comments

Spurs brushed Stoke aside with a sustained display of attacking, crafty football. From the first whistle they kept the tempo refreshingly high, moved with purpose on and off the ball and at times looked like a side without a care in the world. Fun and frolics at the Lane – the crowd lapped it up. What a pleasure to see the team passing the ball so well and creating chances again.

Much has been made of the contrast between this and AVB’s allegedly dour style. I don’t quite see it – we weren’t dour, we just weren’t playing well. More to the point is that Sherwood has quickly identified the strengths of the side and made a few signficant selection choices up front, in midfield and at full-back. This isn’t just something that happened spontaneously – he deserves the credit as an attacking coach too. Let’s not be under any illusions – this was one game against a very poor side – but my philosophy is, enjoy the good times and yesterday we could not have played much better.

The midfield took control, we passed, we moved, we had to one-twos, we brought everyone into play. The only doubt was the number of chances missed before Soldado’s penalty eased the nerves. But we made those chances, more than in five or ten games this season, not quite but that’s how it seemed. Goals from Dembele and Lennon capped excellent performances from the two of them.

Stand-outs in an all-round team effort were Paulinho, Dembele and Adebayor. It’s perfectly possible the Brazilian benefitted from his enforced rest that could turn out to be the best thing that has happened to him this season because he has looked distinctly jaded lately, hardly surprising given that he played the entire summer in the Confederations Cup. From the start he was sprightly and alert, driving in from the middle and linking well with team-mates. Later he had time for a flick over an opponent’s head, not once but twice in succession, not to be flash but because that was the best way of getting past his man. He enjoyed it, a element that has been absent from his game for a long time. His best game for us and it could mark a change for the better, a sign that he feels settled now.

Charlie Adam came on to do what Charlie Adam does – spoil everything. His only contribution to the game was to take out Paulinho with a tackle just late enough and high enough to hurt but not to attract the ref’s attention. I suppose he’s proud of that in some way. To think Redknapp nearly signed him.

Dembele was fearsome throughout, dashing back to cover and impossible to shake off the ball. I have been advocating that he plays further forward, and sure enough he takes the ball on, drives across the box and slides the ball across the keeper, left foot and low into the far corner for our second and decisive goal.

A feature of our play was the interchanges and interactions between the front six, and Adebayor’s movement made that all possible. Look up and the midfield usually had a pass forward to make, until Manu tired towards the end.

Much discussion about the 4-4-2. Like any formation, it’s what the players make of it.  One big difference compared with the West Brom game was the movement of the duo up front. On Boxing Day they waited for the ball, distant from the midfield and easily marked. Yesterday they were much busier, with Adebayor in particular dropping off the back four to come into space to link up. Also, the midfielders started their runs from deep whereas Sigurdsson was stuck upfield for long periods on Boxing Day.

Another plus was the ready supply of crosses from Lennon, who had a fine game. Always a threat, he scored the third, pausing for a vital fraction of a second at the far post before hitting the sweet spot. Eriksen was busy too, starting on the left but coming inside where he could be more involved and giving Spurs an extra man in centre midfield.

Sherwood is determined to be his own man but there were distinct shades of Redknapp in this performance. Modric was often used in that left side drifting in role but in particular after four games, Tiger Tim has played key men in their rightful positions, given them some straightforward instructions and let it flow. Yesterday this was the key to our win. Paulinho is best as a box to box midfielder, Dembele is wasted if left to defend for long periods and Lennon whizzed down the right.

Sherwood has been quoted on several occasions as saying he doesn’t really know the players. This was one reason he gave for not involving Capoue when we were crying out for a defensive midfielder, while post-match he said Paulinho’s performance had really opened his eyes, “I didn’t know he possessed that, to be honest.”

Given that he was the club’s technical director, that seems surprising. There are three explanations for this: he’s using this as an excuse for not playing certain players, he’s lying or he really doesn’t realise their capabilities. This last could be partially true. He would have seen them play but there’s an implication that the natural talents of the men I’ve featured so far were stifled under Villas-Boas. Certainly there was an exuberance about this win that we’ve seldom seen this season. What a great shame if this is true. I hope I’m wrong, so disappointed would I be to have that confirmed but suspect I’m on the right track.

Four games in, so what do we know? Credit to Sherwood for making some changes in the way the team approached their task even if the basic formation was the same. He is learning quickly and is overcoming problems. Stoke were awful but they still got men back behind the ball. Spurs broke them down whereas against West Brom they could find no answer to the same problem.

However, while Sherwood is showing prowess as an attacking coach, the next two games versus United and Ars***l will pose a very different set of problems. Stoke never once exploited the gap as Eriksen drifted inside whereas Valencia and Walcott would punish us severely. Dawson and Chiriches were seldom troubled by Stoke’s feeble attack but they struggled to deal with a couple of long balls, and remember we gave Southampton far too much room a couple of weeks ago.

Soldado’s efforts to score make excruciating viewing. Desperate to see him be successful, I squirmed as he missed several times, notably from the right in the first half and right in front of the net in the second. These were the balls he waited for without any joy under AVB, now he’s getting them he does not know what to do with them. It’s rotten to see a clearly talented striker looking bewildered as once again his natural instincts let him down, and for strikers, when their instincts go, they don’t know what to do next.

Still, he kept going for 90 minutes and calmly put away his penalty after Shawcross handled an Adebayor shot, although he didn’t celebrate much. As he picked the ball up to place it on the spot, there was no doubt he would take it. Adebayor and Paulinho went up to him and gave him an encouraging pat on the back plus some comforting words. We’re all in this together.

Finally, praise for our two young full-backs. Naughton could be forgiven for never wishing to set foot on the pitch ever again after being slaughtered by Sterling. However, comfortable in his natural station on the right, he was sound throughout. Fryers has the attribute I like most in a young player, the ability to take charge. He looked as if he belonged and went for every ball with confidence. He can cross a ball too. He’s not impressed during the few under 21 games where I’ve seen him. Yesterday he looked highly promising.