Spurs Lose the Olympic Stadium But the Real Conflict Has Only Just Begun

February 10, 2011 / Alan / 36 Comments

Politics. All down to politics, as this blog has been saying for a while. The BBC has ‘learned’ that West Ham will win the Olympic Stadium bidding process. In the language of politics, it’s a leak from a sound source, otherwise the BBC would not have gone so big on it. It will happen. Rejoice, oh rejoice unto the heavens! Yet the abiding feeling this morning is the realisation that far from being over, the real issue for Spurs fans, the plans that will affect our development in the next hundred years, that battle has only just begun.

This decision has nothing to do with football or the clubs. It’s a political settlement based on the promises around the Olympic Stadium that date from the bid itself, the legacy and the perceived public reaction if the nod went to an organisation prepared to knock down Britain’s showpiece. The arguments advocated by Levy or for that matter the odious Sullivan in yesterday’s Standard (“the decision is about a promise made in the Queen’s name”) count for virtually nothing. Coe and the athletics lobby as 2012 approaches, Cameron and Boris with cold shudders down their spines as they imagine themselves pictured with the wrecking ball, the government being seen to renege on Olympic undertakings in the most public of ways – these are the factors.

I’ll tell you why this choice was made – my office. Two blokes in the workplace, me and one other who’s not interested in football in the slightest. The rest are women, only one of whom is keen on sport. Lovely people, and yes of course women like football, but not these. There’s not a lot of footy banter going on.

Except over the stadium move. Everyone knows about it. They have no idea who Daniel Levy is, no club allegaince or the faintest notion of a legacy. But they all know Spurs plan to demolish the stadium and they are livid. Many of them blame me personally, even when I point out my opposition. To them, it’s simple: ‘How dare they knock down our stadium?’ Our stadium. There it is. Not Spurs’ or West Ham’s. Ours.

The fans of both clubs, and Orient’s too for that matter, are so embroiled in claim and counter-claim about territory, heritage, revenue streams and sightlines that we fail to appreciate the big picture so beloved of politicians in local and national government. The public want the Olympic Stadium. They are proud of it and proud Britain is hosting the Games. Woe betide a politician who ignores the public mood, whatever they may consider in private, especially so in these straitened times when election promises are returning to haunt members of the government.

In saying that the arguments advanced by both clubs have been so much pissing in the wind, it has to be acknowledged that West Ham have caught the public mood much better than Levy and his PR department. To me, the notion of the Porn Barons and Karren Brady as champions of the people is incomprehensible and frankly nauseating. However, they have successfully presented themselves as guardians of the Games and upholders of decent, honest values, of keeping promises and keeping faith with ‘the youth of London’, whilst at the same time burying the news that theirs is the option that uses public money. Levy meanwhile has been caught on his heels, belatedly desperate to catch up as West Ham set the agenda and the pace. It helps to have a column in the Sun, mind.

Above all, the public and the media like a simple story, and West Ham have successfully cast Spurs as the baddies. This debate about the future of sport in this country has been dramatised as a battle between good and evil and we have lost. Serious damage has been done to our reputation, unwarranted in my view because this was not what it was about at all, but real in the eyes of the public nonetheless. Levy the Loser is the tag he will find hard to shake off, never mind the public, in the eyes of the media and his fellow Premier League chairman. Remember this is the guy who drives a hard bargain and as the deadlines approach, does not blink. Until now.

My opposition to Stratford has been implacable from the start. I’m pleased with this decision but this is just the beginning, because it throws the long-term problems of THFC into sharp focus. If not Stratford, then where? The club cannot challenge the top teams in the long run in a ground that holds fewer than 37,000 people. Figures published today by Deloittes show that of the top 7 clubs, only one, L’arse, made a profit. Spurs have the dubious honour of making the least loss, about £6.5m compared with Man U at nearly £80m, Chelsea at £70m and Man City £121m. The matchday revenues at Spacecity North London are 5 times greater than ours, their profit £56m last year.

I hope we can return to the NDP: I understand the costs have risen but remain wary of Levy’s sudden change of tack. Let’s leave the specifics for another day. One thing is certain, that Daniel Levy remains the key figure who holds not only the balance sheet but also our hopes and dreams. There’s no one else we can turn to: he’s the man in charge. Yet after this mauling, I wonder if he still has the stomach to fight a series of new, possibly protracted battles. We need him to be at his best but he must be feeling battered, sore and bruised. Despite his decade or so in the hotseat, he’s never given the impression of being a passionate man on a mission. Whatever you think about Stratford, it will be hard for anyone to generate the motivation for the challenges to come. It would not be a surprise if he walked away.

This to my mind is the biggest problem Spurs and Spurs fans have to face in the coming weeks and months. If there is a lesson to be learned, it is that Levy should have done so much more to take the fans with him. Most accept his arguments that the club must change in some way. The fans and board united has to be the way forward. I’ve been an opponent, at times showing a degree of bitterness that is not part of my character, but Daniel, here’s my hand. Reach out and take it.

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.

Bucketful of Joy

December 8, 2010December 8, 2010 / Alan / 9 Comments

A typical spurs performance in Europe. A mixture of judicious possession football, incisive attacking and reckless abandonment of defensive duties. Three times we went ahead only to let our opponents back into the match. A penalty needlessly conceded let slip the initiative presented by a lunatic own goal (and for fans of a certain vintage, it’s good to see the return of fat goalkeepers) but meh, this is Spurs, this is Europe, we’ll just run up the other end and get another one sometime soon.

Quite how we made as much space for Twente as we did, I’m not sure. Somehow we manage to enlarge the pitch when our opponents are in possession. Repainting the touchlines when the ref’s looking the other way. It was especially bad after JJ went off and we missed Modric’s influence terribly, but a pleasure to see JD so sharp again. As on Saturday we wasted good opportunities with a final ball that lacked precision. Sometimes the number of alternatives created fatal hesitation but Lennon curbed the instinct to shoot, only a little dink, so simple, so effective.

At the back, Bale and Lennon were too wide when Twente had the ball so…look – this doesn’t matter. Leave it. Today is not about analysis, it’s about celebration. I’ve only just about got used to associating Tottenham Hotspur FC with the Champions League. I still blink at the Sky ads, Champions League, JD’s on the poster, why… This morning I’m repeating over and over – Champions League. Knock out stages. Group winners. If you see me today, I’ll be at Waterloo in a minute, then the old County Hall, I might say hallo, buy a coffee, chat even. Bit overweight (I’ll shift a few pounds. promise. After Christmas. New Year), black woolly hat, that’s me but the eyes are blank. Champions League. Knockout stages. Group winners.

I was going to debate the list of possible opponents. Nah… we’re there. All that matters. Who cares. Bring them on. Bring them to the Lane. Europe has learned something about us this season, they don’t want to come here.

In a world full of hyperbole, where a loss of perspective is routine, this is a remarkable achievement. Genuinely outstanding. Take this, a bucket of superlatives. Astonishing, pulsating, glorious, unbelievable, transcendental, fab gear, brilliant, there are more, those are just the ones on the surface. Pick it up and empty it out, that’s us today, covered in glory.

In qualifying, we’ve scored more goals than any other team in the group stages and I believe are the only team ever to score at least two goals in every group match. (We’re allowed to leave the dodgy defending to one side today). Last night had been inked in my diary for months. Last game, if we were still in with a slender chance, maybe just maybe in the so-called group of death, have to sit down and watch that one on the red button. But we were through already. With a game to spare.

This has led to yet another bewildering phenomenon. In these days of tribal fandom, people like us. Spurs are popular. Fans love to watch us play. Many of the comments that I received on the blog this season from opposition fans have praised the team. Some criticise my conclusions but most end up by saying something like, ‘But good luck in Europe, I really enjoy watching your adventures.’

In the time I’ve been a Spurs fan, we used to be well liked by neutrals or least there was a fondness for the club that dated from the Double and our attacking teams in the late 60s and early 70s. I knew a good few Welsh and Irish people who followed us, rather like Manchester United are followed today. After the Villa Cup Final, I wore my Spurs scarf and badges in London and five people during the course of a single tube journey congratulated me on a thrilling game. You wouldn’t get that these days. Indeed, when we were down, other fans constantly accused us of having ideas above our station,living in the past, not a big club. We wanted success, they reveled in our failure.

Now people look for our matches. They’ve watched football from a bygone age, end to end, bags of goals, attack. They’ve seen heroes, especially a young full back come midfielder who is a character straight out of Roy of the Rovers, stampeding through packed defences in series of unstoppable runs with players bouncing off him from all sides.

Yet this is real. Gareth Bale personifies the talent, enthusiasm and spirit that Spurs have brought to the tournament, culminating in a pulsating encounter that saw the European Champions defeated and left an indelible imprint in the ancient rusting girders at the Lane. The old place has seen it all, but they’ve not not seen anything like this. The ground was rocking and is rocking still.

It’s unfair to single out one player, however outstanding his impact. Van der Vaart has taken centre stage and Modric has done increasingly well as the competition progressed. Huddlestone anchored the team, perfect in Europe where he has a fraction more time, while Crouch, maligned in these pages I confess, remains a mystery to foreign defenders.

Above all the team has played as a unit in the three key home ties, resilient and indefatigable. The first half Berne is a distant memory, a treatment room full of injuries overcome.

And Harry Redknapp has done us proud. He wants to attack, a strategy that has looked risky during frequent buttock-clenching incidents and which is perhaps dictated by the absence of a truly dominating defensive midfielder. But for now, who cares. He’s made it work to dramatic effect. Just enjoy. Savour every last succulent moment, because this is entertainment and pleasure of a rare quality. I love this club.

What Have We Learned?

November 8, 2010 / Alan / 11 Comments

I doubt very much if there is a team in the League that is more frustrating to watch at the moment than our beloved Spurs. Capable of so much, we deliver so little at times. Used to asking the question pre-match, ‘which Tottenham team is going to turn up?’, after yesterday we now have to pose the same query at half-time as well because who knows what they are going to come up with? Problem is, I suspect they don’t have any idea either.

Players make mistakes and teams go through bad spells. Intensely irritating but after all these years I’m used to it. What really grates, what digs around deep down inside and contorts my innards into a tight aching throbbing mass of bile-filled fury that bubbles and froths until it is fit to burst open the lining of my stomach, shatter the rib cage and spew into the light drenching the room with rancorous acid, is when we don’t learn. And round about now, it feels like we never learn. A few days ago we dominated the match by imposing ourselves on a quality team and by sustaining our effort and application for 90 minutes. Our centre midfield ran the show. Watching from the high television position at the Reebok, at times our team looked like Subbuteo figures on a giant pitch, spread out far and wide and just as mobile. I would have given them more than a flick to wake them, I can tell you. Memo to HR- at the next team talk make sure they understand that when you talk about making space, it’s not supposed to be space for the other team.

I refuse to lose that Tuesday night feeling and neither do I wish to infer too much from Saturday as a stand-alone performance. 99% of Spurs fans would gladly have exchanged defeat at the Reebok for the experience of victory against the European Champions. Left to myself I would have gone for 100% but I do know people who left the Lane muttering about the real bread and butter of Bolton away.

So I’m not going to get too maudlin about this tawdry little effort. But all this ‘would have taken that’ stuff is a sign of restricted horizons. We have huge ability and an even larger potential, so let’s fulfil that and see where it takes us. I want it all, wins against Milan and in a slog at the Reebok, not because of unrealistic expectations but because that’s what we should be capable of.

Bolton played well, especially at the beginning of the second half where they pre-empted our 4-4-2 by pressing higher up the pitch, holding possession and generally making a right nuisance of themselves. We expected to settle into a rhythm at that point and didn’t recover until we were three down and beaten.

Our opponents refused to let us play from the back. Sandro was dropping further and further back yet still he was denied any room. The first time he was tackled, we got away with it but no reprieve for the second time. Holden had a fine match as defensive midfield and Lee is a real talent while Crouch can only dream of a touch like Davies’ for the fourth goal. They took their chances well but we made it simple. Two goals came from us losing possession and the penalty was the sign of a tired mind. Without decrying their efforts, we made it so easy for them.

Bale had a good game; anything he came up with would have suffered by comparison with Inter. He made a series of opportunities down the left: it’s not just about him, it’s who gives him the ball. You can try to stop him getting going but if he plays those one-twos and the ball is accurate, no defence can get close. Modric too was excellent in the first half, plenty of sorties forward.

However, as I’m repeating so often these days, you can’t really play a through ball to Crouch. As the lone striker, he’s all Modders has. Time and again Luka made a little break and had to play it out wide. This is easier for Bolton to defend – Knight and Cahill were great dealing with the crosses, digging out even the toughest of Bale’s swervers, but they would not have been so sure-footed if we had come through the middle.

Over the last 12 months a number of players who were not first team regulars have shown a burning desire to seize every chance when it came their way. Last January Bale had a loan move on his mind, while Dawson’s introduction led to individual and team success, culminating international honours. Even poker faced Benny clearly burned to reclaim his place after injury. Now Kaboul for all his inexperience is determined to take the same path.

If only the same could be said for Palacios and Kranjcar. Not only did they fluff their opportunity, Niko in particular didn’t seem too bothered. I’m a big fan of his: on Saturday it was like playing with ten men. Wilson needs to build up a head of steam, using several games to settle into a rhythm, but he’ll never get the chance if he continues like this. Harry was apparently having a go at him. Whether he was drifting too far forward I don’t know, it would have been ideal if he hovered in front of the back four, because goodness knows there were wide open spaces for Bolton to exploit. The back four were stretched call over the place because none of the five midfielders dropped back. Bale and Niko were nowhere. We simply can’t do this. Didn’t I say that about the United game, in regard to Bale and Lennon? I did you know.

The selection of 4-5-1 against a Bolton team keen to get men forward was misjudged. It made it harder for us to take the game to them. I wonder if deep down, Harry knows that despite our strength in depth, this lot play best with a pattern dictated by certain key players. Tom Huddlestone’s value is so often proved in his absence. We’ve seen him come on this season, Young Boys being one example, when on the surface it’s like for like, DM for DM, but it all works more smoothly. The men around him look more comfortable with his presence.

Pav came on, did nothing, then scores a volley from a ball that dropped from the clouds. Hutton’s effort was superb, but I always feel great goals are wasted if you lose badly. Give me 3-0 and save the glory goals for another time. Hutton was the pick of a bad bunch. Probably the least effective man on Tuesday, he had a good game at the back and coming forward.

So what do know this week that we didn’t know ten days ago? We know how well we can operate if we attack and we have our best men available. The potential is breathtaking. We’ve learned that we cannot afford to chop and change too much, but I reckon we knew that already. We can’t play two games a week to the same intensity. I’m not having this ‘European hangover’ lark – it’s about an overall ability to stay strong mentally and play well even if individuals are tired, in other words something that pre-dated our involvement in the CL.

We’ve hit the heights this week but are still a work in progress. We are developing but fact is, we have to go a bit harder and faster because others are learning too and there’s a danger we will be left behind. As it is, we are as close to the relegation zone as we are to the top four. Two home matches to come are vital – six points is essential as we are running out of wiggle room.

The two opening paragraphs aren’t bad, even if I say so myself. They sum up both the game and the fan’s feelings of frustration. Thing is, though, I wrote them not on Sunday but after the corresponding fixture last season. We are a better team now, no question – the team we dominated before Bolton away last season was Aston Villa, not Inter Milan – and I’m really not too despondent, but it’s a salutary reminder that some things aren’t changing as quickly as we might like.