You Make Your Own Luck

February 23, 2011February 23, 2011 / Alan / 35 Comments

Back down to earth with not so much a bump, more like an avalanche. Wile. E. Coyote, maybe, poised atop some improbably sheer mountain range, on the pinnacle of success, then his cunning plan fails, inevitably. He doesn’t just fall to earth. Rather, it’s a slow descent, each painful moment of impact freeze-framed with a resigned look to the camera. Close your eyes and in those moments, see Pav stupefied, JD glowering, Bassong vacant.

Although my mind has been overflowing with all things Tottenham Hotspur since the San Siro, I realised yesterday morning, vaguely, that I haven’t written anything since then. In my head I had, hundreds of pieces stimulated by that great day, but the week has simply flown past. No complacency – it was a feeling that I didn’t want to end and I had fallen under its spell.

Seb Bassong - Latest Picture

It’s tempting to view Spurs’ performance in the same way but I don’t believe they were suffering from a love hangover, or for that matter were up themselves, what with Europe and that. Tempting also to put this one down to familiar failings: on a bad run? Play Spurs, soon put you right! They won’t turn up. This one wasn’t quite like that. In fact, granted we were two down, unnecessarily, but in the face of ferociously determined opponents, we picked ourselves up and attacked consistently hard in the second half, until the third when we faded away to nothing. It was by know means wonderful but past teams would have buckled totally and spent that period looking at their watches and wishing they were in the warmth of the dressing room.

What we did see were a few chickens from this season coming home to roost. Our strikers were awful. Below our best, we nevertheless made more than enough opportunities to win this match, despite Blackpool’s massed ranks. Pav unerringly found the keeper every time, when presented with a few classic striker’s crosses. He moved well onto the ball, great contact and smack – at the keeper. Defoe on the other hand was unable to control his body shape at the moment of impact, falling away in a wild spiral. Predictably the ball behaved in the same manner, flying hihg and wide. Both wanted that extra touch, JD in particular that extra fraction. Yet this implacable Blackpool defence were never going to allow him that.

The strikers haven’t been scoring all season but the midfield have got us out of trouble. That’s fine – in the modern game it’s often easier for them to find space with late runs. No saving screamers this time, however. Forced to shoot from deep and never for a second allowed to settle on the ball, they queued up to sky it.

The signs were there from the start. Jordan, donning his glasses and wiping a touch of old man’s drip from his nose, looked more like granddad from the Werther’s advert than Braveheart, scourge of Milan. More significantly, in the first couple of minutes, Bassong made an error when under no pressure and presented Blackpool with the ball. Nothing came of it but the message rang out loud and clear – Spurs were vulnerable, and our excellent opponents scented blood. Conceding the penalty was needless, absurd and turned the match. From that moment we were always chasing the game.

Bassong is a good player, quick and tackles well, whose weakness is letting players get in behind him. I thought he had turned a corner after a coupe of sound displays, against Chelsea in particular when coming on as sub. However, he likes a run of a few matches to get settled and he was never comfortable last night. The writing may be on the wall. Harry has publicly criticised him this morning: history says this is the sound of the exit door opening. With Kaboul doing so well this season, Bassong is up against it. Having said this, I would have kept Gallas and Dawson together in the centre with Palacios at right back.

It’s the first time I’ve seen Blackpool for 90 minutes this season. There’s more to their success than devotion to the cause and hard work. They move the ball forward and wide, usually through Adam (don’t suppose it occurred to anyone to mark him?). It then often comes back across the other way then is switched once more. Defence suitably stretched, in comes the cross and people coming in late (they have the time to do so because of the movement of the ball in front of them) on the end of it. Campbell for example. Probably offside but our defence had been shredded by then, not for the first or last time.

Two differences from Milan – one, we allowed Dawson and Bassong to be pulled out of their comfort zone. Unprotected by the midfield and with Gallas unsure, they were all over the place. Two, runners didn’t track back. For Campbell’s goal, three Spurs men stop running as they reach the edge of our box, Campbell unchallenged. Basic, avoidable and, again, a problem we have seen before this season. That’s inexcusable.

Without going overboard here, we did well after the break with 20 minutes at least of sustained attacking effort. We kept a high tempo and worked hard. Lennon deserves credit for supplying enough crosses to pull us back. He works best in tandem with a full back. Last night he was isolated and facing two defenders, yet he contributed a good performance. So not so much about a lack of leadership, more about the unforgiveable missing of chances, mental fragility and an inability to deal with Blackpool’s tactics.

One thing I have noticed about our opponents is the number of managers who say that they have never known a game like it, where they have had so much of the ball and so many chances without winning. Even allowing for the post-match paranoid managerial myopia, this is not a coincidence. Blackpool pack their area, lining up as deep as the penalty spot or even the 6 yard area, massed ranks of drilled defiance. We had 3 off the line, I think, but this is no accident. Blocks in the area or on the line, it’s all the same. No room and no time for our passing and touches on the edge of the box. We made it easier for them because they were defending a two goal lead. They did have some good fortune, the ball that went along the line, right to left then back again, but that’s not the point. Truly, you make your own luck. We would do well to remember that.

In the first half, Arsenalesque, we wanted too many touches in the box. In the second, we missed the ones that came our way, then Benny lost concentration and another mad mad moment. Pav scored, and to be honest, I was disappointed because he should take no credit away from that performance. Gallas shooting left-footed, 25 yards out, several men well positioned inside him, which sums up our night. Absurd and uncontrolled.

Spurs – Just Magnificent

February 16, 2011February 16, 2011 / Alan / 26 Comments

Last night Tottenham Hotspur produced an outstanding 90 minutes of football to dominate, frustrate and then, astonishingly, defeat AC Milan. Mighty Milan, clear at the head of Serie A, bristling with world-class footballers skilled in the particular wiles of winning in Europe, we took them on and left them bewildered and whinging.

This was a remarkably mature and composed performance. Throughout we remained poised and self-assured, playing with purpose and unshakable focus. Injuries, substitutions and our opponents’ calculated determination to disrupt our concentration by fair means or foul, mostly foul, were brushed aside. The game was all there was. Such was their application, if the city had gone up in flames around the stadium, Palacios would still be tackling, Sandro tracking back, Van der Vaart and then Modric prompting, Crouch labouring heroically, Dawson and Gallas a brick wall at the back.

These and others crafted highly impressive individual displays but the victory was all about the team. From first to last they worked their socks off for and on behalf each other. Whether it was the wide men dropping back, Crouch being available up front or Rafa slipping between their back four and midfield, not once was a Spurs player in possession left isolated, nor a defender left exposed. A mate was always around to lend a hand.

Already I’m repeating myself but I can’t get over how smooth and assured we were. Over and above the individuals or tactics, of which more later, we carried ourselves with a confident collective determination that I’ve not seen from this team before. It was a self-awareness, a collective consciousness that transcended the combined talents of 11 footballers. It’s like watching your children grow up. There comes a moment when you suddenly realise that they become young adults. Gradual though it may be, there’s a point at which they appear to transform. Last night, these 11 had a sense of being, of being Spurs.

I confess: this blog is peppered with references to lack of resilience, concentration and leadership and I did not believe that we were capable of playing this way. In Europe, away, against Milan, at the San Siro. I’m struggling to recall a performance as momentous in similar circumstances. I say struggle – lying awake because the adrenalin is pumping hours after the final whistle, thinking about Spurs in Europe is hardly a struggle. However, I couldn’t come up with much. The team of the early seventies produced a draw under intense pressure, maybe also in Milan. I haven’t looked it up so I’m happy to be corrected, but it was the same thing, under pressure we stayed cool and controlled much of the game, Recognise the context: without exaggeration this one is right up there with the great away European trips of the last 50 years.

Hard to know where to begin, especially as I’m still reeling with the emotion of it all. I’m so bursting with pride over the efforts of my wonderful team, just hook me up to the National Grid and the surge will mean that global warming is a thing of the past. However, let’s start off the pitch. Redknapp set up the team perfectly. Given what has transpired, I have to pinch myself that this was a makeshift midfield that had never before played together, comprising a winger, one centre midfielder prone to errors, brainstorms and wayward passing, another who is only 21 and who has made only a handful of starts, rounded off with an arrival so recent he can barely find his way from the dressing room to the coach. Two world-class footballers were absent, although one, Modric, came on to great effect later. A matchwinner who has electrified Europe and twice destroyed the European Champions was at home, injured.

Yet we proceeded to outwit and out-battle Milan. From the outset, we pressed and harried, with a few little niggles into their heels, in safe areas far from our goal. Sandro covered and chased while Wilson pursued them like a man possessed. Seedorf, their key link between defence and attack, was pushed further back, rendered ineffective. Deprived of service, Milan’s two strikers were largely anonymous in the first half. Rafa inserted himself between their midfield and the back four, chasing again to prevent attacks developing from deep and constantly occupying the attentions of their back four and defensive midfielder. He prompted and crossed, always dangerous with his shooting, and the turn and chip was utterly exquisite.

Because Milan play with little width, Pienaar could come off his wing to make the extra man in the centre when we had the ball. He’s a skilful, shrewd addition to the team. Here, he helped us hugely with the main task, that of retaining possession. Lennon was a constant threat, upping the pace and the anticipation as he repeatedly took on and beat his full-back. Just as valuably, both men dropped back to cover when we lost the ball. Noticeably we learned the lessons from earlier this season, from the San Siro in particular, where the wide men stayed too wide. By staying tight, we restricted Milan’s space in front of our area, precisely the space that VDV was exploiting so effectively at the other end.

Another confession: loving it, I was equally waiting for it all to end. i thought we would be pegged back at the start but no, right into our stride and on top. Flowing effortless movement on and off the ball, diagonal crosses to Crouch causing problems. Only a matter of time before Milan pulled themselves together. Ok then, 30 minutes gone now, nothing from our opponents but we had gone quiet too. They decided to handle Crouch by giving him a sly nudge with the keeper coming way off his line to claim the ball. His substitution could upset that tactic but we sat back and didn’t pressure him.

Half time now, we’ve dominated. Pato on, we’re pushed back, can’t get hold of the ball. But still Milan fail to make serious inroads. Palacios and Sandro diligently track back, patiently waiting for our chance. Two men out when the Italians attack down the flank, bodies between them and the goal.

VDV brilliant but tired. Luka on, two weeks after a serious operation yet as fit as a fiddle, smoothly settling in slightly deeper but what we needed, collecting the ball, moving it on, foot in with the tackle. probably pre-planned, kudos again to Harry, knowing we needed Luka’s game at this point. It was then, as we got onto the ball once more, that I realised this wasn’t going to change. We stopped Milan from playing. Flamini would have been sent off in the Premier League, no question, but he achieved his gaol – do some damage. I feared Gallas on the flank could be a problem. he was caught out once and scampered back, no damage done, never again to venture forward. Otherwise, immaculate. Benny’s expression, unchanging mild surprise, up and down the flank, calm in defence.

Don’t want to dwell on Gattuso’s ill-advised confrontation with Joe Jordan – I know who my money was on – for fear of drawing attention from our wonderful victory. Suffice to say that needle is part of the game whether we like it or not. Gattuso tried to take us on. He says Jordan had been having a go throughout the game ‘in Scottish’ (has the joy caused me to become delirious or is the Italian married to a scot?). Whatever, Gattuso failed on and off the pitch. A sign of our superiority that that had to resort to the roughhouse to put us off but they singularly failed to knock us out of our rhythm. Spurs won that confrontation too.

Unfair though it is to single out individuals, Sandro was astonishing. As I said on Saturday, he drops back naturally into the back four when the ball is out wide or tucks in just in front of the back four when it’s in central areas. Alert always, he tirelessly tracked runners into the box then was fearlessly decisive in the challenge. This man could be the lynchpin of our team for years to come.

Plaudits to two men I have criticised in the past. Alongside Sandro, Palacios gobbled up the yards and the ball whenever it was in reach. The two of them shielded the back four so they had to do their work where they are at their best, in the area. The mighty Dawson did not let us down. Only twice was he forced out of position, such was the protection, and on both occasions he won the ball. And Crouch, dear Crouchie, Simply – on the night we could not asked for more.

Then, a moment dreams are made of, where legends are created. Humble beginnings. Sandro wins the ball for the umpteenth time and Luka touches it on. Suddenly, Lennon’s pace takes the breath away, he’s off into the wide open spaces, defenders shattered in his wake. No aimless run this, the ball is perfectly under his spell. A touch just a little touch sideways and it’s in the back of the net from Crouch.

Normally I like to hold the real-time memories of goals in my head, the blur, the thrill, the exhilaration, but this one, in the low angle replay, Crouch turns to the camera, arms outstretched, no choreographed goal celebration, just genuine joy, while in the background Lennon wheels away in the opposite direction, in his own world, arms similarly outstretched, the joy of the provider as great as that of scorer.

Let’s end it there, although I could go on for pages. Because the game is ultimately not about the formation or tactics. Rather, it’s about the blissful exhilaration from moments like these, the unconfined overwhelming joy of such a complete performance plus, lingering today, a glimpse of the future in the staggering potential revealed last night. To unashamedly borrow a well-worn phrase – this is glory, this is style. One of the best displays in the last 30 years. Magnificent.

Learn From This or Fail

January 31, 2011 / Alan / 15 Comments

You can’t turn it off and on again. Form, I mean. You can’t decide to leave it one afternoon, then come back to it the following week. It’s not tucked up snug and warm inside airtight bubblewrap, waiting to come out when the classy influential guests come a-calling.

Form has a life of its own. You can’t see it but you know it’s there. You can feel it, sometimes believe you can taste it, it’s so much a part of you, you almost don’t have to think about what you’re doing. It has a momentum all to itself, gradually gaining pace and shape like a snowball rolling down a hill.

But never, ever forget. You own it because you made it. All down to you. Your efforts, struggles and talent, mind and body slowly combines to be indistinguishable. Skill plus motivation with a healthy dollop of coaching to provide the organisation to play together, as one, united.

First, you concentrate. Every game, first until last. In the Glory Game, your illustrious predecessors Chivers and Peters talked of coming off the field exhausted and with a splitting headache not so much from the physical exertion but from the mental strain of focussing for each second. One mistake, one mistimed tackle for example, and you are a goal down, punished for your lackadaisical attitude.

Michael Dawson, a mighty warrior for the cause. You are our leader. You should have the honour of wearing the armband on a permanent basis but whatever, we look to you for an example, a leader in a team that’s crying out for leadership on the pitch. That’s why we love you, because you give everything, but you of all people cannot panic. Mistakes we accept, no one is perfect, we are realistic, but panic and that spreads through the team, to each and every one of them. You can’t turn that on and off, even if you would like a weekend’s respite.

I know that sometimes you will give everything and be beaten by a better team. I will be down and disappointed, more than I should be at my age and after all this time, but I will accept it. What I will not accept or comprehend is giving up. After ten minutes. I don’t care if it is the Cup in a world overly obsessed with the Premier League and the Champions League. We paid our money, same as when you could be bothered. We have – had – a great chance of winning that cup. A match for any team in the country, on the day, over 90 minutes. This new Tottenham – they are scared of us, of how we can sweep down upon them from all angles, Bale, Modric, Lennon, Van der Vaart, they fear us. Now they know we will give up, if you give us a little nudge, if things don’t pan out. That’s the message.

Habit. Winning is a habit. Make that, competing is a habit. This weekend I listened all day to the radio as the Cup unfolded. Lower league managers said they instil a winning mentality. Every game, every confrontation in the field, all over the pitch. Win it. Those little skirmishes won, the whole battle follows.

Transfers. In a few hours we’ll know if a judicious purchase or two (striker and defensive midfield, please) will lift us. Daniel Levy is singlehandedly trying to jolt the ailing Spanish economy into life. It could make all the difference but it’s utterly pointless if he joins a team without the mentality to be winners not posers.

Make it happen. Don’t sit back and wait for someone else. Play and others will play with you. Lead and others will follow. You’re all in this together.

Choke. Murray choked. Sent the message reverberating through his world that talent is nothing without the right mindset. Squeeze him and he falls apart. On the radio I heard another warrior, a rugby player this time, saying that as a coach he judges the true mark of a man not by a defeat by how he copes the next time. How he reacts. We’ll see on Wednesday. Most of you probably don’t fancy Blackburn on a chilly Wednesday. Don’t care. Sort out your head or all this talent and potential is out the window. Learn from this or fail.

Modric Takes Over

January 10, 2011January 10, 2011 / Alan / 3 Comments

You can tell the true value of a player by their absence. On Sunday, Luka Modric jogged purposefully on to the pitch at half time and proceed to transform a lacklustre Tottenham team.

Before and after – the footballing equivalent of a Head and Shoulders advert. Before – dry and dull, all the shine has gone, flecks of ugly debris all around. After – why, bright and shiny, I feel like a new person and the boys love it! Cue swishing of improbably thick and glossy mane, a suggestive look over fluttering eyelashes.

Troubled and toiling as the first period ended, unable to find a way through Charlton’s massed ranks, Luka took over. No fuss or flamboyance. Head down, into midfield, straight into the groove. He came deep to pick the ball up, moved it, then advanced 15 yards, more space, me again, come on, a touch, run again. Suddenly everyone is moving easily, freely, with purpose and energy.

This is what he does. Many players have fantastic skills, precious few have the ability to change totally the way 10 other players behave. And here’s the thing – he just gets on with it. Job to do, no time to pick up the pace of the game, I’ll alter the pace to suit me.

Before Modric...then Apply Well and Instantly...

It was no less remarkable for being against a League One team (is that what the Third Division is called? I still have to think about it). Charlton, buoyed by excellent support from the stands, closed us down remarkably well. Any pretentions to push us back gradually faded as the half went on, although they came close to scoring early on with a couple of balls across the box that stretched us unnecessarily. Nonetheless they erected a solid barrier in front of their back four and we seldom looked like scoring.

Credit to our opponents for an organised response but we also played into their hands. We have a fine squad but the absence of key men always shows. Harry’s team selection of a strong back four rightly gave few concessions to our lower league opponents and Defoe could provide some sparks up front. However, the midfield came unstuck, or at the least the two most experienced members, the ones we were supposed to rely on, did.

Palacios and Sandro, two defensive midfielders side by side, offered no creativity or inventiveness. An odd selection. Both seemed uncertain about where they were supposed to be. To his credit, Wilson looked for the ball and took up advance positions that didn’t suit him but once more he gave the ball away too often and when under little pressure.

I’ve always appreciated what he does and will be forever grateful for his work when we were at the bottom of the league. His was the single most valuable contribution to our rise up the table. However, he looks to have fallen behind our current levels. Simply put, it’s pointless winning the ball if you give it away again. Also, I still think he drifts around at the edge of the box when we don’t have the ball rather than tucking in closer to the back four. I counted at least three Charlton raids out wide when he was loitering at the edge of the box covering a run that no one was making.

..Modric Works Wonders! And It Shows...

Sandro looks a good prospect to me. Raw around the edges and too reckless with his tackling, nevertheless he’s mobile, hard to shift and confident in possession. He takes up defensive positions naturally and when we get it back can drive forward into space to turn defence into attack. He had a decent second half, sure of his place alongside Modric. I don’t want to either write off Wilson or make extravagant claims for the Brazilian, but with Palacios the man taken off at half-time, without being premature it was hard to escape the feeling that one was on the way up as another was falling in the opposite direction.

The rumours that Krancjar is on the move may be true after another poor performance. It’s hard to see why he’s wasting his considerable talents. He seems bulky and below peak fitness, and not that interested in doing something about it. He wasted this chance either to force himself back into the team or at last put himself in the proverbial shop window. His limited defensive abilities and lack of pace make it hard to see where he will fit into the present team. A real pity, he’s so talented.

As it was, he was asked to drift inside but we are used to having width these days and Benny didn’t overlap into the space he vacated. Then, Niko was gobbled up by the waiting Charlton defenders, shooting increasingly forlornly from further and further out, apparently oblivious to the presence of defenders between him and the goal.

Pav was in the middle of another of his ineffectual days. He dropped deeper to look for the ball and hopefully to shift Doherty and Dailly out of the back four but he lost control so often that they were largely untroubled. The ginger Pele therefore stood resolute and, well, not so much tall as slightly stooped. According to Wikipedia he’s not 30 til the end of the month…. Never the most agile of footballers, the Doc finally got it together at the start of one season, rather like Dawson started to blossom. Then he broke his leg in a televised match at Everton and was never the same again. He would have moved on anyway, he’s a lower league natural, but that leg break did him much harm. He’s not changed in the interim – first touch the ball slid two metres from his foot, but in the first half we kindly played to his strengths. We crossed it and he and Dailly headed most of them away. I liked the way he looked to the Park Lane at the end of the game and we gave a round of applause. He still feels it, being a Spur.

Enter Luka and we took them apart. For 15 minutes he was faultless. Just as I was about to moan about another aimless long shot, Townsend scored a debut goal, not the hardest shot but perfectly placed inside the post from 20 yards. Defoe was rampant, taking the ball right across the box before slotting home for the second, then the third from a rebound. We missed a few more and Cudicini made three decent saves but we were never in much danger. Like many sides, Charlton had the organisation but fell apart once they had to move forward. They have nothing up front.

It will be fascinating when Huddlestone returns, because earlier in the season this very different style of player made the team feel most comfortable. He and Luka could become a combination that dreams are made of, if Big Tom does more defensively. This could really be something big. And I don’t mean Tom’s tuchas.

Before the game the Charlton left back must have been delighted that Lennon was absent. Little did he know. Azza at his trickiest could not have given him a harder time. Repeatedly Andros Townsend took him on and took him apart. Twisting this way and that, right foot on the outside, left foot coming in, Townsend on this display had it all, including a couple of posey tricks and flicks to rub it in. A fine debut full of promise. He had good control, keeping the ball close while he ran at full tilt and as I said could come off both feet.

In other news, David Beckham is training not playing now, but by the time I finish typing this sentence it may all have changed, or he may be having twins. I don’t know. I’m less bothered by this than I am by Harry’s clear irritation on 5Live. When asked about it, he snapped at the interviewer.

“I don’t know what the issues are… and I don’t know the answer. I wish I knew…it’s sorted about above my head. I don’t think there’s a problem with the insurance, I had that wrong.”

Sounds like he’s in the dark and that Levy is pulling the strings. In playing matters the manager must have overall control, although Harry added that he said he would like Beckham at the club.

One reason for Beckham’s arrival is in this column by financial journo and Spurs author Martin Cloake:

“The news sent shares in the North London club shooting up on Friday. This morning, they are back down. Between the hot rumour and the cooling down, the team comprehensively beat Charlton to qualify for the fourth round of the FA Cup. This fact did not have the same affect on the share price as the rumour.”

http://www.dailyfinance.co.uk/2011/01/10/fa-gets-new-sponsor-beckham-update/