The Meek Shall Inherit Tenth Place

November 10, 2010November 10, 2010 / Alan / 24 Comments

Now I’m angry. I had no issue in being generous after the let-down against Bolton. Not going to read too much into a single game and anyway I was clutching on to Inter glory for as long as is humanly possible. Not so this wretched, feeble effort versus a decidedly average Sunderland team. We’ve played a lot worse in the past, the recent past for that matter. The matter at hand is that faced with a great opportunity to win two home games against teams we should not fear, we capitulated as meekly as a kitten facing a rotweiler. These opportunities are fast running out.

Same old classic signs of my utter exasperation. Drab resignation at the final whistle gathering momentum as I trudge back to the car. Nearly there and I’m spluttering incoherently to my son who, bless him, has heard it all before. Open the door and it’s transformed into a few moments of bitter complaints plus a few slaps of the innocent dashboard. It’s a sure sign things have not gone well when I start shouting at the radio. Last night I turned on 5Live to hear Steve Claridge ajudge Sunderland as worthy of a point. Now this blog has a history of kind comments from opposition fans who pick this up on newsnow and I don’t mean to offend the loyal band who midweek fill their allocation of seats, but our rivals did nothing. They didn’t have to, and that’s why I’m furious. This was a game where Spurs failed rather than where the opposition succeeded.

Over the last couple of years many teams have closed us down with ruthless efficiency. Hull, Stoke, Wolves, hard work and well-drilled 11 man defence for which we had no answer. Last night Sunderland worked hard and their back four were strong but at no point did they stop us from playing football. Time and again, especially in the first half, we created space with ease, passing the ball around or through their midfield, good interchange between Modric, Huddlestone and VDV plus plenty of support from Hutton, Bale and Bentley on the flanks. Even when we were off colour in the second period, there was room to move. At the back we were sound throughout, bar two moments, and I honestly cannot recall a game when I felt less threatened. Sunderland showed not a flicker of creativity and at times we pushed them back so far, they joined the queue for the Colonel’s burgers in the Paxton Road.

Back to the radio and a shouty man in the backstreets of N17. Claridge then solemnly opines that in the second half, when we attacked down our left, Sunderland let Benny have the ball and dropped two men on Bale, thus nullifying his efforts. Yes, but that didn’t stop him. Repeatedly he bore down on the defence, what went wrong was his use of the ball. He crossed too early too often but he had loads of room. For some reason he didn’t cut into the box, a potent weapon as our opponents tired, they couldn’t risk tackles for fear of a penalty but he never took them on in the danger areas.

Same on the other flank, where we were victims of our own weak-minded failings. Bentley’s Hollywood flicks and long range shooting is evidence of a man keen to impress as an individual, at the expense of team play. He never learns. However his real problem was his robotic preprogrammed compulsion to overlap when he and Hutton advanced. Acres of room inside but every time he goes wide. Just where Sunderland want him and the ball. The full-backs’ thighs were red-raw by the end where all his attempted crosses thwacked into their flesh, and they loved every second of the pain, because he was in their pocket.

Crosses. Teams score lots of goals from crosses. We got one. But they are easier to defend for English teams. Some of the most talented midfielders in the league stood and watched as the ball sailed over, or not as in many cases. Time and again. What is the point of having Luka, Tom, VDV if all we do is cross the ball? We may or may not score a few goals in this way, but that’s where teams want us to be, they’ll take their chances with the cross, thank you very much. To repeat, we had plenty of space in the middle because we were seldom closed down effectively. A mindless waste.

Titus Bramble. Let’s fathom a cunning plan to get at him. Lithe, mobile, lightening quick in the tackle, sees the first yard in his head and anticipates uncannily well. Oh hang on, that’s Bobby Moore, I got a bit mixed up. With Bramble, let’s bring on a big bloke and wang the ball aimlessly into the box for 45 minutes. Crouch comes on, first ball into the box is a good one but he decides that the best approach is a Pythonesque goose-step. That comedy walk gets them every time, eh Pete? I wasn’t laughing.

The crosses, the Crouch, it’s tactics and they are Redknapp’s responsibility. On the evidence of his movement, dropping deep and linking front and back in the first half, Redknapp decides to push VDV to the edge of the box in the second half, where he waits for the good ball that never came and Bramble and Turner can head them away all night. At half-time, we had played well without having much of a cutting edge. Gallas and Kaboul were untroubled at the back and Hud was supreme in midfield, the pick of the players. Luka was busy and creative, whilst Pav’s movement and committment was good. We were comfortable and on top with the 4-4-1-1. Some tweaking was required and the goals would surely come. Cut down on the crosses and we’d get one or two. Crouch’s arrival ended all that. Whilst Sunderland’s two up front pressured Hud, it left others with room to move, yet we criminally failed to exploit it. If there are two on Bale, there’s room somewhere else. VDV couldn’t fill it, he was told to stick to the edge of the box. Luka can’t do it on his own. Anyway, the ball’s in the air, and Turner and Bramble are heading it away….

We get one, no danger from them, we should be fine. Then a moment when…I’ve not seen a replay so I can only go on the night – how on earth did that happen? Our fault again, letting a team back into a game under no pressure. We nearly did the same at the end when Gomes fouled at the edge of the box.

That wise sage jimmyG2 summed it up perfectly in the comments section of Bolton – ‘I give Harry credit when it’s due and the blame when its not’. I’m conscious that I’ve been banging on about this problem for a bit. I genuinely have no axe to grind but this is plain wrong. Granted we have scored three goals from a far post crosses, Crouch knockdown and VDV a yard out. This is but one tactic, not the only one. This is about potential – we have the players to do so much more. If this is how we’re going to play, buy Kenwynne Jones or any bruiser and go the whole hog. This about the best team we’ve seen at the Lane for ages, and what they could do. This is about finishing in the top four. The other top contenders don’t play like this, because it doesn’t work. Brainless.

Not So Much a Match Report, More a Celebration

November 3, 2010November 3, 2010 / Alan / 23 Comments

Last night Spurs produced a fearless, compelling and utterly irresistible display of bravura football, the like of which I have seldom seen in my 40 plus seasons of watching my beloved team. Inter Milan, proud champions of Europe, a defence the envy of the competition, were repeatedly torn to shreds. One of the greatest nights in our modern history, but with football like this, there’s scant need to be parochial – this morning the eyes of Europe are upon us.

At the end of the night, a shy, modest young Welshman was anointed as a world-class talent. Gareth Bale shattered Inter with an unstoppable combination of muscular direct running and devastatingly accurate crossing. Top class players with every trick in the book, pace, hard tackling, positioning plus the arcane dark arts of international defenders, they’ve seen it all before but on the night all they saw was his backside as he powered past them. As they thrash around in the middle of the night in storm-tossed demented half-sleep, the number three will float into their consciousness and torment them for evermore.

I’ve seen a game or two in my time but I’ve never seen anything quite like Bale. In full flight this big man is a fearsome sight. he needs a stride or two to get moving but once he gains momentum he’s away. Yet despite this, the most remarkable aspect of his play is the final ball. Viciously swerving crosses that are nigh on impossible to handle or the far post ball on the ground, they are dispatched with great accuracy whilst he’s stampeding through at full tilt. The touch to the byline, the amount of times the ball does not cross the line but is pulled back as his instep curls around it and into the box. This is not a reflex reaction. Rather, he’s learned to pick his passes much better, witness the second and third goals last night. As the blood pumps furiously and every sinew strains, his mind remains focussed and calm. He is twenty-one years old.

It’s not as if Inter were unprepared. Not only was there plenty of first hand evidence from the first leg, Benitez knows the English game intimately, yet his team offered too much space. Even if they had closed him down, Bale would have escaped their clutches. This signals a new strand of defensive tactics. Against Bale, formations are no longer described with players spread across the pitch horizontally. Goal-line to goal-line, 5-3-2. It’s the only way.

This was no one man band. Modric was outstanding in the centre. Low to the ground, seeking space and then filling it with an angled ball or a short stabbing run to collect the pass and move on. Always active, he provided both an outlet for team-mates and a steady supply of creativity. Little arms outstretched, give it to me, give it here, I want it give it to me. The opening goal was exquisite, a simple natural beauty rather than the glamour of those that followed but nonetheless it took the breath away. The touch and turn, head up, how can a football rolling 6 yards be so sumptuous? Van der Vaart, on the same wavelength, as one and in. Stunning.

VDV roamed wild and free in the first half. Not everything came off but Inter could never rest. Hud was solid in the centre, spraying the ball wide and undertaking defensive duties diligently. Gallas had a decent match. He bounces around like tigger, hopping up, down and sideways, alert and balanced, barking out instructions. No thought of bygone days, only Spurs on his mind and new challenges ahead. Lennon occupied Inter’s attention, if only the final ball were better but he made his fair share of opportunities. Another word of praise for Kaboul. He should be way over his head in this company but he’s not having any of that. He wants it, wants it bad, and he had another good game. For our third, the little Inter forward had possession, edge of the box, back to goal, and Kaboul stayed patiently on his feet rather than diving in. Result? We gained possession and Bale disappeared into the wide blue yonder.

Yet the really wondrous aspect of this match was the team itself. No hint of the disjointed, aimless play we’ve seen so often with this squad. They produced a sustained display of attacking endeavour, moving as a single organism with one intent, victory. The movement was excellent throughout with barely a moment to catch their breath. They supported each other magnificently and played from the off with sustained purpose and high tempo. From the kick off Bale took a waist-high pass under pressure and first time knocked it back, to Benny I think. A footnote on a wonderful night but it was a sign of confidence. Spurs imposed themselves on their illustrious opponents from the beginning and never let up. My head was spinning as we tried to break down the Italian barrier – both wings, running, passing, onetwos, the entire gamut of creative football.

I suspect Benitez had no sense that Spurs would dare to attack so consistently. It’s the Champions League, a group match, you want to win but are cautious because losing is a crime. Everyone knows that. Kudos to Redknapp and the coaches for setting up the team in this way and for instilling the will to win. The fluency up front was a joy to behold. Not just VDV and Luka, but Bale making diagonal runs off the ball into the middle and pushing JJ forward when Rafa went off. Inter had barely a moment’s respite from this unceasing assault.

So Bale, this giant of the game, runs amok then amidst the tumult of celebration absent-mindedly checks his hair. In the post match interview, he looks at the floor, says he’s still learning. Last week he had a few days off. Went to stay with his mum. Just a kid of twenty-one. Me, I’ve seen it all before, but I’ve not seen anything like this. Past 1 am, can’t sleep, watch the recording and waves of goosebumps flow down my body from head to toe. After all this time, I should not surprised by what Spurs does to the emotions, but once again they’ve floored me. A head-spinningly joyous night of wild passion and wonder.

Not All About the Clattenburg Clanger

November 1, 2010November 1, 2010 / Alan / 5 Comments

Let’s do it then. 93 minutes of a fascinating and, for lengthy periods, pulsating match at Old Trafford can be dismissed because only 60-odd seconds really matter, or so you would think if you followed the media this weekend. You want more, don’t you, there’s not been enough about it.

It’s a while since I’ve seen so much go wrong in such a short space of time. Kaboul was fortunate to get away with the foul on Nani, then the winger took the most definite hold of a ball since Michael Johnson’s last basket but the turning point comes a few seconds later. Clattenburg’s decisive signal that he was denying the penalty appeal was not matched with a similar sign indicating advantage. Where Gomes placed the ball is irrelevant: all keepers pinch a good few yards if there is a free-kick close to the byline. Also, the ref could easily have thought our keeper was about to shift the ball upfield quickly. Then, Gomes hesitates, he knows something is not right. Scoles and other United players are urging Nani to get over his childish sulk and get on with it. Gomes looks to the ref, hands forward, and is met with a shrug. Up to you, old son, the ball’s in play.

The linesman’s late flag was reasonable. He had every right to assume the ref knew what he was doing but just in case, he wanted to tell him about the handball. There was an interesting discussion about refs on 5 Live last night. Some refs tell their linesmen not to flag for a foul if the ref is in their quadrant. I bet Clattenburg falls into this category. He likes to be in charge and be seen to be in charge. Linesman says handball, ref says I know. If the referee allowed Ferdinand to join in because he just can’t be arsed once again to tell players to shut up and go away for the zillionth time in a match, I might have a little sympathy, as players haranguing refs drives me bananas. But for a guy who wants to be in charge, it was a sign of fatal weakness. At least it offered further evidence of what a dipstick Ferdy is, abusing the linesman even after it’s gone his way. Not like our lovely nice boys – the stream I watched replayed pictures and sounds of the Spurs players around the ref at full-time and not a swear word to be heard. So sweet.

I don’t want to defend the ref – he did not deal with this well – but in the end, play to the whistle is an adage drummed into the youngest schoolboy and I presume it’s the same in Brazil. This season, referees are allowing more advantage and they do bring the ball back if none is gained. Clattenburg could have done so here, as Nani advanced towards the ball. If the FA followed rugby’s example and issued clear guidance to referees to permit a few more seconds for the advantage to pan out, football would be a better game. I remember saying that when I was a schoolboy, too.

Gomes was daft but I feel for him. This bizarre episode will be endlessly replayed over those blooper reels, with ill-informed D-list celebs ripping the piss out of our keeper to get a cheap laugh, and I don’t want that to happen because it’s so undeserved. He’s a fine keeper who had an excellent match. Often exposed by wayward marking in front of him, he was a redoubtable last line of defence.

Now we have Harry banging on about it, including in the Sun, where he just happens to have a contract and column. He seemed philosophical at full-time, chuckling away ruefully with Fergie. If the pressure on him to comment leads to a touchline ban, he’s more stupid than the ref.

Enough already. I’m curious as to why this one incident has occupied so much attention in the media this weekend. Sure, it’s crazy in itself, let alone in a top of the table Premier League clash, but the coverage has been way over to the top. It’s not as if the match hinged on this one moment. It snuffed out our final desperate efforts to seek an equaliser but we were a goal down and flagging. To me, it’s symptomatic of one of the most harmful aspects of the modern media coverage of our great game. It is reduced into micro-moments. ‘Let’s have a look at those penalty appeals’ and the TV pundits snuggle up to replays of 37 angles before pronouncing that they’ve seen those given. Football is about the ebb and flow over time, territory fought over, assaults repulsed and swift counters, all balance and guile, sweat and toil. On Saturday, the first half in particular was a pulsating advert for the much maligned Premier League, full of open, flowing and skillful attacking football. It’s like nobody bothers about that any more.

Also, from Spurs’ point of view, the Clattenburg Clanger is a convenient smokescreen to mask the limitations of our play. Harry doesn’t want to get into this, and neither does the media, because it doesn’t fit their current perception of our team. We are getting great publicity: our squad strength is praised consistently, rightly so, and our attacking football has won friends, especially in the Champions League, where if you want goals, choose the Tottenham Hotspur option on the red button. However, take a closer look, as we fans do, and there are a couple of problems that are not going away as the season goes on.

There are genuine positives to take from the match, especially the way in which we took the game to United in the second half. It’s not much, but we forced our opponents back for lengthy periods, holding possesion and probing for the gaps. We compelled them into making changes to bolster their defensive shield, and it’s a while since you could say that about a Spurs performance at Old Trafford. Van der Vaart was again brilliant in the first half. His turn and shot utterly breathtaking. Modric took a greater part in the second half, showing how well he can perform. We were not strong up front but at least we made some chances.

But there we are, what’s going on upfront. Not much. Keane’s selection was a brave one. He played well in that role in preseason and in theory it means we could keep it on the ground. However, he was largely anonymous, so it was left to VDV to provide the punch. Pav did well enough when he came on but there’s no disguising the lack of threat from our strikers, whoever plays there.

At the back, we were far too open. If United had not been so unusually wasteful, we could have been three down by half time. I’m always talking about how the midfield fail to protect our back four, so I won’t bang on about it again. Suffice to say, Superboy may appear invulnerable but in the end he’s human too. He has to get goalside and do his fair share of defending. Too often on Saturday he was drifting in no-man’s-land, 5 or 10 yards outside our box as United got in behind us. Same goes for Lennon and Modric to some extent. I don’t wish to be over-critical of these excellent players – but they have to do it and it is holding us back because it leaves us vulnerable.

Kaboul did well once again, a fine prospect, but part of his particular learning curve is when to get in tight and when to bounce back a fraction. Against Everton and on Saturday, unnecessary free-kicks led to goals. On Saturday the error was compounded by downright useless marking in the box. It was criminal to leave Vidic with so much space. Our injuries at the back are beginning to make me maudlin. If only. If only Daws and Led were fit. If only Woody could have come back…it means so much, and could mean real might-have-beens come the end of the season.

Rodney You Plonker

October 25, 2010October 25, 2010 / Alan / 14 Comments

Like a splinter under the skin, it’s usually a minor irritant, but sometimes, if you don’t get it out straight away, it festers and infection can quickly spread. Another two points dropped at home in a match where despite Everton’s effort and organisation we were the better team, another game where we go a goal down, another opportunity slipping away.

We’re a quarter of the way through, give or take a percentage point, and patterns are revealing themselves. This promises to be a tight league from top to bottom. Battling for a top four where Chelsea lead but Liverpool are floundering and United surprisingly vulnerable, there’s everything to play for and to establish ourselves in the top four we must show the ruthlessness that goes with that status. From that perspective, we have to bank points from games like these, rather than allow them to slip from our grasp.

The pressure’s on all over the field. Every element of the team has to function to their peak. The focus is always on the strikers, especially so if we’re playing one up front. it’s becoming a well-worn path, but Crouchie -what are we going to do with you, you downright plonker. This absurdist masterclass was surely surrealist performance art, a slapstick satire on the post-modern society. Effort is futile and wasted, we may as well accept our pre-ordained fate. No matter how much we try to control the world, time and again it refuses to obey, often wildly and unpredictably spinning off into the ether, just when you think progress is being made. Have you noticed, the ball and the world are the same shape? Worthy of the Turner Prize, I have a clearer, more humble sense of our place in the cosmos but not our top four prospects.

It was so unco-ordinated, when he sarcastically applauded the Park Lane’s ‘Super Pav’ chant I’m surprised he managed to make left hand strike the right. If it were possible to make things worse, take the piss out of your own fans, why don’t you.

This blog is all about the team. We stand or fall as eleven not one. However, when our single striker is so off and when so much is played towards him, frustration is the very least of the emotions. Modric and Van der Vaart are programmed in their genes to play the ball into channels or slide the ball in behind defenders. They’ve being doing so since they were kids, yet so often they turned away in frustration, as if to say, ‘Of course, forgetting myself, can’t do that, silly me’. It makes things so much easier for defenders.

Once again we started brightly enough without making any real inroads. Promising signs of interplay between Luka and VDV and a welcome ease with our passing. Luka is taking a while to play himself back into form and there were signs that he’s on the right track. Twice in this period he was prominent in and around the box, and he makes things tick. They talk about strike partnerships but if Luka and VDV get it on, we have something to look forward to. However, certainly as the match wore on, we could have done with more drive from midfield to overcome the increasingly frequent flat spots.

Talking of plonkers, this week Wilson got his mum to write him a note so he was excused detention. Next time he may have to play in his underpants as punishment for flying into to tackles. The early, needless booking helped in the short run because, wary of a second yellow, he stayed on his feet and had a better game as a result but the half time substitution was inevitable. It disrupted the team and used up a substitution that would have been handy as we struggled to score the winner later on. It’s a sign of his anxiety but he’s had a long time to learn that remaining upright is an option.

After a decent start, Everton came back into things. They defended with application and were busy in the middle without ever being negative. In the past they’ve lacked potency up front but Yakubu was always a threat. It was a fascinating struggle with Gallas and Kaboul. Both had good games. Kaboul once more emphasised his potential with another useful performance. Unafraid to impose himself on opponents, he did well. A fraction impetuous at the edge of the box, a foul, just, and Baines punished us with a superb free kick.

We were back on terms quickly. With Crouch pulling away to the far post, he makes defenders uncertain, or in this case the keeper, and Crouch’s deadly knee left VDV with a simple touch. On the far post, a decent ball will take out the centre half and leave him one on one with teeny tiny Baines, but the little guy is shrewd. The art of the good defending includes how to nudge and touch without conceding a freekick and the full back used his height to snuggle into Crouch’s back, secure in the knowledge that the ref would keep him safe. Once we had a good shout for a penalty, first half to the left of their box, but that was it.

Games are won and lost in the periods when teams get on top. We made chances early in the second half but they fell to Crouch, who proved the toe-poke is a less potent weapon than he presumably believed at the time. Pav was no better when he came on, similarly fluffing his one big moment.

Heitinger kept his compatriot VDV quiet during this time, effectively patrolling the area in front of the back four. We could have done with JJ’s energy and drive to lift us as Everton dropped back towards their goal. Instead, our efforts petered out, epitomised by one of the best attacking full backs, Hutton, launching a series of high balls from 35 yards out, easier to defend than going to the byline. I would have switched VDV and Luka with VDV more involved in the centre but we have to get both of them into the box as often as possible.

Bale had a reasonable game. Despite the evidence from Wednesday, he’s not superman but as he was surrounded by two and three men, he used the ball intelligently without making the breakthrough himself. He could have worked back more, not only to help out at the back but also he’s better coming from deeper positions. Galls had a good game, doing that bouncy thing he does to stay in touch with the man he’s marking and barking instructions at the back four.

I know what you’re thinking. I admit, the Turner prize cannot be awarded for performance art. Oh, and we are in a good league position. Forgive me if I’m asking for just a bit more in matches like these.