How Did He Do That?

/ Alan / 14 Comments

In his entertaining and perceptive book about Spurs, Topspurs maestro Jim Duggan nails the highs and lows of being a Spurs fan. It’s all there, from eleven umissable terrace moments and ’17 goals and a miss that define the Tottenham way’ through to ’22 ignominious defeats’. There’s a delight to be found on every page but flicking through it during the international break, I kept coming back to page 186: ‘Ten Spring Collapses’.

In grotesque detail, a catastrophic comedy of failure. Hopes raised, hopes dashed. It goes back further than you might think – even the Double side tripped up in the two seasons that followed their triumph. The one I recall most bitterly isn’t listed, when in 1982 we had a chance in four competitions, including a League Cup Final and Cup Winners’ Cup semi-final, then had to play eight matches in the first 17 days of May as preparation for a cup final five days later. Key players in a thin squad were injured, others were out on their feet. Sound familiar? At least we won the cup that year.

History exerts its pull, sinister dark matter lurking everywhere, unseen and unknown but the most powerful force in the universe. Yet I refuse to accept that fate dictates the outcome of human endeavours. We hold our future in our own hands. Evidence trumps destiny every time. Victory against Ars***l was sweet in itself but it meant more than just three points and bragging rights. It demonstrated how far Tottenham had come in a few short months, a determined, able team responding to pressure with the best performance of the season.

Inter was one thing, Fulham was jaw-droppingly impossible. Was Ars***l really as good as it would get? Two weeks to ponder, the I told you so smug derision of our rivals’ fans had the ominous ring of truth. So as the whistle blew in west Wales, I looked hard for evidence. Leave the stats, look into their eyes, the bounce, the organisation, the purpose. Internationals provide little physical respite but could refresh the mind.

Within five minutes I was reassured. Better than I expected, to be honest. Our Andre had pulled them all together. Lennon’s reassuring presence on the right made a big difference. He had a quiet game but he’s essential to the shape and balance of this side. A spring in our step, we pressed and pressured. Everyone knew what they were supposed to be doing and went about their work willingly.

In the end, not our finest hour but that’s not the point. Sometimes after a bad game it’s better to plough on without time to think. That was Fulham, and it showed physically and mentally they were shot. Instead, the break gave them a sense of perspective, time to reflect on what was important and what they might have if they got it together again. I like to think they returned to Enfield and said, yep, this is allright, we’ve got a little something going for us, this football nerd with a beard, the shouty German and the other two, no one knows what their names are, them – this is where I want to be and we’re not going to let this slip without a fight.

Who knows? They got it together, most of the time, and that’s enough for me, for now. They settled quickly and did not allow Swansea to establish a rhythm. And from that base, we have stars who can make the ball sing and dance to their tune. Two goals to relish but note both emerged from the simple effort of being mentally alert, first to a loose ball, then let it rip.

Vertonghen, a class footballer who chooses to demonstrate his skill at the back, moved into a gap, to Bale, a spellbinding chip hanging, hanging in the air, gravity under his spell as it fell only when the Belgian was ready. For he kept going. Bale saw him, the defenders were mesmerised. Left foot to nudge it into his stride, left again and into the net.

Then Vertonghen again – Swansea had not plugged that hole in midfield. He shaped to repeat the feat but instead angled the ball into Bale’s feet. One touch and stroked past the keeper from twenty yards. It was not just the accuracy that left him rooted to the spot but the quickness of foot and mind. I’ve watched it over and over again, of course I have, and each time it takes me by surprise. How did he do that?

Two stunning pieces of top class football. I don’t mind a stat or two, they have their place. Replays can shed light on events on the pitch. But what I want from the game cannot be written down or counted. I want to gasp and wonder. I want to say, how did he do that?

So I’m as high as a kite, then history and fate give me a not so gentle nudge in the ribs. Spurs are two up, on top, this is the time to get really worried. We coasted for a while then Swansea came back into the game for the last 15 minutes of the half. It’s natural that a team as able as they are will have good spells but they missed a glorious chance that made us look better than we were as the half ended.

Over the years of this blog (TOMM – The Redknapp Years?), I’ve commented on one aspect of our tactics so much, I even bore myself with it but I’m sorry, here it is again – we have to protect the full-backs, especially away from home. In the second half, Swansea had far too much space on both flanks but particularly on our left where Naughton did well enough but too frequently was left on his own to deal with two players.

We kept our shape, and indeed changed it for the last twenty minutes with Bale dropping wide left, but we sat back too much and did not press the ball. Hence the stream of crosses into the box that kept us under pressure for the last quarter. Michu played further forward than he did at the Lane where by dropping deep he was seldom a threat. Here, he craftily sought the space between our two centre halves and was always dangerous. However, we should have stopped the chances at source.

Dawson and Vertonghen both played well. Dawson snaked out a long left leg on three occasions to make timely tackles. However, he lost Michu badly for the goal, a header from a corner. No excuse.

Parker had his best game for a while because he limited his horizons. In defence he tucked himself into the back four, often at the near post which cut out several crosses and he did not venture forward very often. Little creativity and a couple of poor passes at important moments but his header to deny Swansea on the break was significant, as well as earning a few bruises as Michu ploughed in.

Siggy looks like a good player who is playing out of position, except he’s played in several positions. Andre’s ploy of playing Adebayor into form failed again. His timid finish from a one on one with the keeper told its own story and once again his failure to hold the ball up offered no respite when we needed it in the second half.

Swansea missed a few but then so did we. Three points will do nicely. Not convincing entirely but I go for evidence – we have the best away record in the league apart from Man U, apparently. perhaps I should stop worrying, but let’s be honest, that’s never

Defoe’s Project For Care Leavers Hits The Spot

/ Alan / 8 Comments

Despite their reputation as money-grabbing, self-centred primadonnas, many Premier League footballers contribute their time and energy to charity work. It’s rare however to see a player actively involved with a small local project that genuinely makes a difference for vulnerable young people. Jermain Defoe’s work with E18ghteen deserves a great deal of respect.

The project helps young people who used to be in care to live independently in the community. As well as advice about housing, employment, benefits and training, it provides mentoring and personal support. It’s part of the work of the Tottenham Hotspur Foundation, funded by the club and whose mission is to reach out into the community and put something back.

What is particularly fascinating about Defoe’s involvement is that it’s no vanity project. Support for care leavers is desperately needed but it’s not sexy. Celebrities often attach themselves to fundraising for national charities or headline-grabbing events like Sport Relief. Once a year football backs the NSPCC’s Full Stop To Child Abuse campaign. Wearing a t-shirt during the warm-up may raise awareness temporarily but establishing a local project leaves a real legacy for the individuals concerned even if it seldom reaches the papers.

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This is what I do for a living. Children and young people in care are amongst the most vulnerable in our society. All experience disruption and poor care at some point in their childhood, some much worse. Many walk a rocky road through the care system. For these young people, adulthood comes very suddenly. At 18 they leave care and whilst they are entitled to ongoing support and advice, because of severe local authority budgets cuts, the actual provision varies from the patchy to the virtually non-existent.

Many find themselves in trouble with the law. In November the chair of the Youth Justice Select Committee Sir Alan Beith highlighted the lack of services for young people: “We were shocked by evidence we heard that vulnerable children across the UK are effectively being abandoned by children’s and social services.”

Before Christmas I attended the launch of the Care Leavers’ Charter , an initiative begun by care leavers themselves and taken up by the Department For Education to ensure services are in place. It’s sobering to hear young people’s stories of rejection and isolation. We wouldn’t kick out our own children at 18 but the state often sees fit to do so. The speakers asked for very little. This was not about material goods or income, rather, they wanted security and safety, respect and guidance. Someone to turn to, someone to be there for them when times got tough.

Defoe is personally involved in E18ghteen, offering mentoring to young people as well as being the public figurehead. After the death of his brother in a fight, he approached the Foundation. Speaking in the Guardian last year, Defoe explained: “There were quite a few moments that made me think I need to put something back in the community. Watching the news and seeing all the gun crime in London. Young kids were dying, getting stabbed outside schools. Then what happened to my brother Gavin was a big thing for me. And one of my cousins was actually in care but is now in prison. I thought I’d love to do something to try and help the kids and try and stop this from happening.”

I work for a charity. We say – come back to us if you want to and whenever you want to. That simple gesture is the first step. No barriers or eligibility thresholds. Talk and we’ll help if we can. You can have all the resources you want but there is no substitute for being there. E18ghteen provides mentors to reach out and enable young people’s full potential to emerge. It’s a model piece of community work. Defoe does his best work in the area but this piece of thinking outside the box has been a huge success.

Photo from the official site. If you want to see what JD’s up to at the moment, here’s his video diary in the England camp: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HinKMHMfxD0&feature=youtu.be updated daily.

If you are interested in these issues, Conscience, a film by a care leaver, carries a simple and powerful message.

 

Futility and Nothingness

/ Alan / 16 Comments

Can’t hang about. These tenders won’t write themselves, you know, and Ofsted will be here tomorrow. Endless pages of submissions, evidence and method statements. 11,368 words to be precise. That’s an eighth of a book, just for one tender. Not that I have time to write a book. Too busy doing bloody tenders.

I’m pleased to be able to tell people about our work. The only problem is, no one will read it. They’ll read some of it of course, hopefully most of it but consider the maths. There’s my 11,368 words, which doesn’t include the business aspects because quite rightly they don’t let me near the money, I would just pile in and give children everything they need and deserve. Then there’s the 11,368 words, give or take, of the thirty or forty other providers. Then this bid is one of four lots. So that makes 1,818,880 words that have to be digested and compared precisely to find the preferred bidders. Just a guess but I reckon they won’t be able to do that properly. And that sense of futility runs from my brain through deadened nerve fibres to every stroke of the keyboard.

Anyone who saw yesterday’s game will understand futility all too well. What’s the point, I daresay you asked yourself, especially in the long, long second half. Plenty of time to think – at times yesterday there was more noise in my kitchen when the washing’s on spin than there was in the ground. There’s been comments about the booing but it was the silence that scared me. Nothing going on, in the stands or on the pitch.

Ofsted will soon arrive. It’s all hands to the pumps in the office when they are visiting. Evenings and this weekend, the team have all put in time, while I swanned off to football. Working to prove they do a fine job. They don’t have to prove it to me, I know they do. I’ve seen them blossom and thrive over the years. I tell all my managers to work fewer hours but none of them take any notice of me.

They work hard because they believe in what they are doing and want to prove it to the Ofsted inspector or indeed anyone who comes into contact with the office. Shame the same can’t said for my football team. Bit harsh. They’ve been great for most of the season and looking back, basking in the glow of late spring sun and the warmth of a Champions League place we’ll chuckle at comments like that. Just a blip. But right now, I’m still numb with the sheer nothingness of it all. Even deep space isn’t empty. Full of mysterious dark matter, apparently, but this one defied the laws of universe because I can tell Brian Cox personally that at White Hart Lane yesterday, there was one big void.

Our Andre has not had a good week. Playing 4-4-2 to protect a three goal lead away from home was misjudged to say the least, although I have sympathy with the optimism and confidence behind it. (No match report, I’m afraid, that tender is oh so very real). Wrong, but his heart was in the right place. Perhaps that confidence in his side was misplaced. I’m guilty too – no worldbeaters these but a decent, hardworking and well-organised side. After the Inter game, he was honest enough to say that the “organisation was not there because the mind was not there”. Yesterday we suffered a collective mental fraility that seemed to have a life of its own because it spread to the five or six players who did not start in Italy. Which is bad.

Come the second half (I’d say the first was forgettable but I genuinely have forgotten it), we geared up for more effort, partly because it couldn’t get any worse and partly because in the last few months we have consistently raised our game in the second period.  Nothing. AVB was at fault again. Players were all over the place. Adebayor as a left winger, Bale on the right mostly, Dempsey, well, I had no idea what he was up to and frankly neither did he. Did I detect a few grumbles every time he touched the ball? I don’t like that but he was dire.

Tempo was the problem. It stayed slow for the whole time and we don’t play well like that. Daws could have got us going but he went off. Last season Parker would have driven us on but it’s a measure of how far he has fallen that the least experienced Spur, Tom Carroll, had infinitely more about him. As soon as he came on, it was pass and move, one touch then pass and move. Simple. It’s what we do but we forgot. Playing badly so back to familiar basics. Bale charging down the left, why not give him 20 minutes, that’s all. No Lennon but width from Walker.  Its what we do and it’s what is needed against massed defensive ranks. Instead we resolutely stick to one-twos down the middle with Bale coming inside to be gratefully swallowed up by the men in black.

Fulham had two shots, one went in. Lloris was presumably suffering from exposure, he had been out in the open with nothing to do for so long. The divine Dimi popped it in. Disliked understandably by many Spurs fans for the way he left us, but what I wouldn’t give for a fraction of his skill and intelligence. In this team he would be a star again.

I’m a realist with optimistic tendencies. It was not going over the top to believe that we had done away with performances like this one. The week before, the Lane was rocking with two superb games in five days. Arsenal beaten, Inter taken apart. Ten days on, unrecognisable. 

There is a simpler explanation, of course. Spurs were knackered. Dembele and Siggy were, Adebayor had plenty of energy but no form. So the fresh players were balanced out with those who simply weren’t there. We can’t play with half a team.

Business continuity plan now. This is newly popular with local authorities. Think Doomwatch, 28 Days or that other wretched BBC show where a virus wiped out most of the population. If the 200 or so people who I work with were all out of action, how would we provide a service? (I haven’t made this up, by the way). Another futile exercise but I will go through the motions. Walking back to the car, I was left to ponder on the futility of hoping Spurs had tuened a corner. Another season, another blast of hope that crumbles to failure before our eyes.

Too early to tell. Maybe Andre needs a rest in the international break to recharge his batteries. Spurs need that break and to return refreshed. Still plenty of time. I’m convinced despite yesterday that the club is on sound footings.

Welcome To The Pleasure Dome

/ Alan / 10 Comments

Building for the new stadium has not yet begun but already it looks as if they are moving ahead on the naming rights. White Hart Lane has become the Pleasure Dome, a place of euphoria and delight. Last night Spurs overwhelmed a weakened Inter Milan side with 90 minutes of sustained flowing football that simply brushed one of the top Italian teams aside as if they barely existed.

Lovely stuff and the fans responded, a wonderful celebratory atmosphere less for the tie itself and more for the football Tottenham are playing, for the manager whose efforts are deeply appreciated by an initially wary Spurs crowd and for the growing belief that promise will be fulfilled.

Measuring my anxiety levels is a complex undertaking, admittedly not quite on a par with the Hadron Collider’s calibrations but a nevertheless complicated cluster of interacting variables. There’s gum-chewing of course, subdivided into intensity of bite and chews per minute, glances at the clock in the second half and that odd hand-wringing thing that I do. The details aren’t important but if blood is drawn, things are going badly.

Yesterday, levels veered crazily into the positive, at times they were off the scale. What a revelation to watch an anxiety-free Spurs game. All-round good performances, an early goal, silky passing, cracking atmosphere throughout. Inter even went so far as to miss the obligatory chance out of nothing, the forward shooting straight at Friedel when clean through. No Spurs cock-up! I did look at the clock but only in the hope that we could have more time.

Once again Villas-Boas selected a very strong team, as he has throughout the competition. Inter? Not so much. I’m no authority on the reserve league in Italy, no really, I’m not, but I’m certain half of this lot don’t see much first team action. By the end they were bringing on players who looked as if they had come for the Beat the Deckchair competition.

Unfair – they had a sprinkling of experienced players and it was a shame to see them in such reduced circumstances. The motivation, organisation and application of Our Andre’s Spurs has been a feature of last few months but nowhere has it been more obvious than in the stark contrast between these two sides. From the kick-off Spurs were willing and eager, pinging it around and by-passing their lacklustre opponents with inventive pass and move football. They know what they are supposed to do and where they are supposed to be.

Parker and Dembele were the pick. Both had an extra yard or so available and they plundered this rare freedom to great effect. Parker’s problem this season has been his release of the ball. At his best when he can win it and lay it off or drive forward ten or fifteen yards and then let it go, he’s forgotten the simplicity of his game or not been able to pick out a man amidst a packed defence. Either way, he ends up holding onto it longer than he has to.

Last night, he had the space to move and his teammates could get into space to be found. Similarly, Dembele had more room to roam. Some of his play was delightful. Lennon was energetic excellence throughout, dashing back to cover as well as whizzing at the Inter backline. It’s good to see Siggy have some gametime. His miss on Sunday, passing when clean through, betrayed his lack of confidence. At Swansea and Reading, his trademark was goals from midfield. With us he’s developing a knack for the alert tap-in, following up Defoe’s shot to tap in the rebound off the keeper. It should help him overcome a lingering inferiority complex – I suspect he’s still coming to terms with this step up in class.

Vertonghen was imperious at the back, Gallas had enough time to charge forward in the second half. Brad was a spectator. The only disappointment was Defoe’s failure to score. He knows goals are the only thing that feed his confidence and his pre-injury instinct for the corners of the goal deserted him. His efforts to hold it and shoot rather than pass to a better placed team-mates became increasingly absurd. They just rolled their eyes and looked to the heavens.

No matter. Bale put us one up after five minutes with a header, because he can do EVERYTHING, and missed another similar opportunity. Siggy next, then Vertonghen with a header. Three and could, should, have been more but no one really cared about what might have been. Fans right across the spectrum came together to experience the pleasure of watching Spurs play good quality football. The guy next to me wore a baseball cap pulled down almost over his eyes and his scarf covered his face. When the ball nearly hit us, he ducked down for fear of the cameras catching a glimpse. I suspect that guy’s been banned…

To my right, a three or four year old with eyes as bright as his new white Spurs woolly hat. His first game and the memory will live long. Glad to share it with him.