Always On My Mind. Spurs Stories: In Hospital

August 5, 2010 / Alan / 3 Comments

There’s always a stir when the ward has a new arrival. Disparate individuals thrown together forge temporary bonds in adversity as a lifetime of carefully tended privacy is at a stroke upended by the indignity of pain and bed-pans, honed by a nurse’s scolding when powers fail.

A fragile culture is shaken whenever a newcomer appears, the tension is palpable if it’s a man. The last man was oblivious to his surroundings, baring the West Ham tattoos on both thighs and when he wasn’t snoring bellowed his suffering down his phone louder than a Tunbridge Wells stockbroker on his mobile in a rush hour train.

We, the regulars, practised in the fine art of hospital visiting, we who long ago said everything that there is to say but still talk, feign indifference but are alert to the swish of the plastic curtains being pulled back.

‘Leave me alone, woman. Leave me alone.’ He’s a shouter.

She sits, she stands, she sits again. ‘Have a wine gum, go on, they’re nice’

‘I’ve told you, I don’t want a wine gum.’

‘Go on, have one. They’re nice’

‘I don’t want a wine gum!’ The whole ward knows he doesn’t want a wine gum.

‘Go on, do you good, you need the energy. How are your pillows? You’re not comfy.’ She’s up again. ‘Let me do them for you.’ She glances around without making eye contact with anyone.

‘Leave me alone woman!’

In hospital nothing happens. The slightest provocation is acted upon, if not created, in minute detail, then discussed with a similar nuanced attention. All undertaken in the name of the patient but in reality it fills the time and provides the visitor with a reason for being there.

She looks around again with a nervous grin. ‘All right if I have one?’

The young man, quiet until now, has had enough. ‘Spurs are playing tonight, granddad. Go and get a coffee, mum. Cup game!’

‘Up the Spurs!’ Animated now, alert and bright. ‘They’re doing all right this year, eh? Told you Harry would sort them out. Told you.’

‘Win this one and they’re at Wembley, granddad.’

‘Ahh, Wembley. Did I ever tell you about when I was there in ’61?’ The boy settles back with the air of someone who has heard this one before, several times, but he’s happy to listen once more. ‘Never be bettered, son, not the same these days.’

‘I couldn’t get coffee. Bloody cafeteria’s closed. Coke from the machine all right? He’s not going on about bloody Spurs again, is he, the old sod?’

‘Mum,’ says the boy, ‘Just shut up.’ He settles down again for the rest of the well-worn saga. His mother stands. Moves the pillows a fraction. Smith scores. Sits. Tucks in the blankets. Blanchflower lifts the cup and he’s lost his hat, tossed high in the air. Stands. Sits.

A few days later, when we are all familiar with tales of Tottenham heroes, of Smith, Greaves, Blanchflower and especially White, glorious, silky, best ever White, I pass the bed on my way out. ‘Good to meet another Spurs fan.’

He stirs and sits bolt upright. ‘Two sugars please!’

He dozes again, as suddenly as he woke. I walk on, past the laminated pledge on the wall that guarantees same sex wards from 2007.

Next day I stop again. ‘Bought you a programme’. I’m not a good visitor, despite the practice over the last two years. I’ve deserted my duties. Even now, under these circumstances, the game and being there is on my mind.

The boy thanks me, ‘Look granddad, a programme. 3-1 today’. The woman, more agitated than normal, thanks me repeatedly, and no, for the tenth time, I really don’t want the money. The boy shows him the pictures, as you would a toddler.

He barely stirs, a flicker maybe of an eyelid buried deep now in hollow sockets surrounded by grey drawn skin. His lips move, ‘What’s that granddad?’, says the boy, ‘3-1 today, Defoe again!’ Faint and barely audible, he summons the strength from somewhere to respond. I swear I heard, ‘Up the Spurs’ but I couldn’t be sure.

Sunday afternoon and I pass the woman in the corridor, on the phone telling someone that she has the money but will be late because she’s at the hospital. The boy brushes past, carrying a small bag with the programme in his hand. ‘Thanks for this,’ he looks at his shoes and doesn’t stop. Turn the corner and the curtains are pulled, the bed empty. It will be occupied by the evening.

Lucrative Friendlies or the Training Ground? I’m with Harry not Daniel on This One

August 1, 2010 / Alan / 17 Comments

On Friday the draw takes place for the final Champions League qualifying round. Even now I’m simultaneously incredulous and breathlessly excited that the name of Tottenham Hotspur Football Club will be included. Yet even before the balls emerge from UEFA’s tacky plastic cannister, our preparation for the most significant match in recent times has been severely hampered in the pursuit of the true goal of Premier League clubs, money.

The days of a relaxed pre-season to ease the players back into fitness are long-gone. A couple of weeks hard running in the home counties followed by a jaunt round Scandinavia was the traditional precursor to a few friendlies against well-known sides, usually Scottish, a tapered build-up to a long, strenuous season. Now we’re off to the States for three games, back to play at the Lane only four days later, then Portugal, then back to the Lane for Saturday. You can’t hit the ground running if your legs can’t stand the strain.

Harry Redknapp agrees: “Our schedule is crazy. We pile games in but I need to get the players on the training pitch.” The players who went to America have struggled to adjust to the time difference, waking at 3am. Jenas has a thigh strain, Modric and Pavlyuchenko both picked up hamstring injuries in the States, Palacios has a groin strain. Says Harry, “He’s had an injection and I hope that does the trick.”

Two weeks before the opening match and we are using injections to enable a player to work through an injury. All these problems are the natural consequence of athletes pushing too hard too soon. If a podgy panting decrepit jogger like me knows this then I’m fairly certain it’s apparent to the Spurs legion of medical staff. Medics and manager want one thing, the chairman has sorted out something else, a nice little earner.

Pre-season is always a delicate art. If teams start well, you’ll hear it attributed to a good pre-season. If teams fall away in the second half of the season, I guarantee someone, usually the same someone, will solemnly ajudge this to be down to a heavy early schedule. If teams lose their pre-season games, someone will say friendlies are meaningless, it’s competition that counts.

So it can be everything and nothing. Pre-season gives coaches the chance to settle their men into familiar formations and patterns, as well as getting them reasonably fit. The training ground is the place where this happens, not a jolly with half the first team in the states.

This has never been more true than this pre-season. Not only do we have the Champions League, we have players returning late from their travails in the World Cup. Time is therefore precious in order to establish the blend, yet Harry and his coaching staff have been deprived of this most valuable pre-season resource.

Daniel Levy has ensured the financial security of the club at a time when many of our rivals’ self-inflicted wounds have left them vulnerable. For this reason only I’ll lay off the criticism. This schedule was presumably arranged some time ago, indicting that Levy wasn’t so certain of finishing 4th. Of course I realise we need the cash to compete at the highest level but however lucrative the tours, it’s nothing compared with the riches of the Champions League. Oh yes, and the glory but never mind that.

In a way,pre-season proper starts here. Harry has two full weeks and two friendlies with the whole squad, hopefully the injuries will have healed. It’s not just the Champions League: we open against Manchester City, one of our main rivals, who may be bulging with quality but who will be away from home and potentially disjointed with all the new arrivals. One consequence of our lack of transfer activity is at least that the players all know each other. It’s a good time to play them, provided that we ourselves are fully prepared. We’ve not given ourselves the best of chances.

Will the World Cup Influence the Premier League and Spurs?

July 28, 2010July 28, 2010 / Alan / 12 Comments

So here we are again. All those well-intentioned promises came to very little in the end. The World Cup, Spurs history, World Cup Conversations…although it’s time has passed, I must tell you about the waxing woman some day soon….

I enjoyed the World Cup but in the end, it had all been said about England, and anyway as I’ve shared before, dear reader, I don’t get as worked up about the national team as I do about Spurs. Other people with a better feel for the international game were doing a fine job. The Guardian Fans Network was great fun and if you haven’t checked it before, Zonal Marking – phew! Great site. www.zonalmarking.net

It was a reminder of my motivation for writing this blog, which is about a year or so old now. After all these years, I feel so close to the club. In a small way, I’ve been part of its heritage over the last 40-odd years, and the club is as much a part of me as the air I breathe. Inseparable, heart and soul. Some who know me might say that is a bad thing, but frankly it’s too late to turn back now. Always on my mind, so I write about what I know and feel. I don’t feel it for England, so I can’t write. Lots of ideas and just-begun pieces, paragraphs tailing off. Haven’t the heart to finish them.

Although many of you are clamouring for the start of the new season, I enjoy the break. I need it. To not anguish over the last game and plutz over the one to come is a blessed relief. Peace and quiet encourages reflection and a sense of perspective that does not come easily amidst the plethora of pundits during the season itself.

But as always, the world turns and seasons change. Never mind the summer solstice or the calendar – the arrival of the note that my season ticket is ready is my personal springtime. New beginnings, the promise of better things to come.

It will be interesting to see how the World Cup affects the Premier League in general and Spurs in particular. The often-repeated statement that the Prem is the best league in the world may still hold good in terms of excitement and competitiveness but if England’s finest can be so readily put to shame, our tactical and technical backwardness has been ruthlessly exposed.

This may not matter to most punters, but by charging inordinately excessive admission prices, clubs put themselves under increasing pressure to deliver. Fans have a tendency to become more disgruntled more quickly than ever before, and consciously or subconsciously one factor is surely a demand for value. We blanch at the credit card bill but it’s all worth it if we are watching top quality football. If it falls below that standard, the tetchiness begins and can easily overflow into anger.

The same goes for Sky: if they had their way it would be Super Sunday every day of the week but over the summer we’ve seen for ourselves how unsophisticated and technically deficient our so-called top league has become, even with foreign players. Sky’s publicity behemoth can’t fool all the people all the time.

The World Cup is bound to influence tactics in the coming season. The main message is: the team is the thing. The whole is greater than the sum of the parts. This of course has always been the case, but this summer in particular we saw a tournament where there were few individual stars. Rather, we purred at the combination play of, say, a young-ish German team who supported each other phenomenally well or marvelled at the passing and ball-retention of the Spanish.

Two up front has been severely discredited. The search around the leagues of Europe will intensify for the lone striker able to do, well, everything. Hold it up, run into space, drop back and chase, finish with lethal precision. For Spurs, does anyone fit that description? Not for me. Interestingly, Keane has been tried there. Friendlies this early in the season have no significance whatsoever in the outcome of the season but they do sometimes shed light on the manager’s thoughts. Keane at his best does fit the bill but he’s not exactly dynamite in the air, essential for the Prem. We can’t tell – it may that he’s up there simply because Crouch and Defoe hadn’t returned to training and Pav had a knock.

Harry is keen on 4-4-2 and has set up our squad accordingly, but if the rest of the league have five in midfield, like England we will be outnumbered. We had enough trouble against the likes of Hull, Stoke and Wolves last season.

Finally, two defensive midfielders is the fashion sweeping the metaphorical catwalks of European football. I say defensive: again, they require the whole gamut of skills. The familiar traditional midfield destroyer will take you only so far if he can’t pass. Here we are in better shape. Huddlestone, Modric and Palacios (but the passing…) are good for a start, and whilst we shouldn’t have unrealistic expectations of a young Brazilian not used to the league, Sandro is by all accounts a quality player in precisely this mode.

Our offer for Scott Parker has been declined but to me he’ll fit in just fine in the centre of midfield. He has plenty of skill, energy and experience, great positional sense, is a fine passer of the ball, shrewd, a leader on the field who can take over a midfield. Hudd and Luka will fit right in around him, he’ll help our developing players. Last season he carried West Ham and with better men around him he’ll look great.

A sound buy for the right price. And that’s the issue. He’s had injuries in the past that have disrupted his career, so we can’t go over the top. Sullivan’s public determination to keep him is all about creating a tough guy image with his fans. For him, everything on earth has its price and he’ll sell his grandmother’s kidney if the offer was right. I’m not inclined to become sucked into a bidding war. 5 or 6m, then leave it.

Otherwise, it’s early days. We are probably making lots of enquiries but there’s no need to rush. High quality men will take some persuading to come to Spurs because other mad chairmen will agree unrealistic salaries that we won’t match. Also, the market will unblocks itself once one big deal has been done, likely to be James Milner. We are keen on Young and Agbonlahor, they like the look of JJ, Bentley and Keane, City might like our cash for Richards….and so it goes round.

Whatever, don’t sell anyone until we have someone better signed up. Where that top class centre forward will come from, well, this will stretch all of Harry’s powers of talent-spotting and then persuasion to get him to come to the Lane.

The Premier League will provide great entertainment again next year. The trend towards 4-5-1 will continue but we may see teams adopt a more containing frame of mind. In the World Cup, the best teams used that formation to flow and pulsate, many used it to frustrate and minimise risk. If so, Spurs may have to discard our faithful 4-4-2, in which case we will require at least one new striker with different skills. Harry’s way forward could be pace and mobility. Bellamy, the two Villa players, plus Bale and Lennon – it may not happen but it could be an indication of his thinking.

Tottenham On My Mind Meets Jimmy Greaves

June 14, 2010June 14, 2010 / Alan / 5 Comments

At my age I’m fairly certain of what’s important in life. If I haven’t figured it out by now, frankly it’s too late. But even for someone as jaundiced and careworn as I, there are still moments when those priorities become crystal clear. Last Thursday, when my train halted in Kent as St Pancras was evacuated for a bomb scare, my groan turned heads in the carriage. If it had been work, an interview, a woman even, I would have remained stoically philosophical. But this, this meant something, because I was on my way to meet Jimmy Greaves.

I don’t do heroes. I admire certain people for who they are and what they do but in the end they are all flawed, just like you and me, and I’m no hero. But Jimmy Greaves was the closest I have ever come to idolising a fellow human being. As an impressionable football mad only-child growing up in the late sixties, Greaves was the biggest star of many in that Tottenham team. Kids aren’t fussed about records, they have no perspective of history, so I didn’t care that he was our best ever scorer. What mattered was, Greaves delivered. He always scored, or so it seemed. The ball in the box, is he on the end of it, yes and must be a goal.

Jimmy Greaves in His Prime

More than this, he did so with style, and even this sheltered boychick knew it, just by looking. Greaves was different, and ever since I’ve searched for flair, the distinctive individual. It’s hard trying to explain his football to those who never saw him. Goodness knows I’ve tried with my kids, but there is no one in the modern game to say even, ‘Jim was a bit like him’. Was he fast? Not a sprinter, but he outpaced defenders with the ball at his feet, gliding over the turf with perfect balance, the ball two feet in front of him. Was he quick in the box? Apparently not, but he got to the ball first, so often. Powerful? Not really, but the ball sped into the net, passed rather than belted. In these days of inflated superlatives, Greaves was unique and remains so. His was a frail, almost shambling figure who was transformed when the ball was at his feet.

I never dreamt for a moment that I would ever have 15 minutes on my own with the great man, but if it had crossed my mind, the setting would not have been as surreal as the back upstairs table at Burger King, Leicester Square. I shake hands with the PR guy (Jim’s flogging World Cup burgers), glance around and there in the corner, lost amidst the indifference of tourists and office workers gulping down a bite or two before moving on to something better, is a small, rotund man, healthily tanned, chatting quietly into a microphone. One of the game’s greatest goalscorers sits anonymous, surrounded by discarded burger wrappers and plastic carriers.

As he greets us there’s a touch of weariness around the eyes. It’s been a long day already, we are the last in line, two packed into a single slot as time has almost run out, and there’s a car waiting for a radio interview so it’s not over. Yet there is genuine warmth in his firm handshake and a willingness in his tone to talk football. “Ok here we go chaps, how are you, all right? Start, don’t worry.” A legend takes the trouble to make me feel relaxed.

First up, some punditry, and he’s refreshingly honest. Asked how England will get on in the World Cup, he replies cheerfully, “No idea.” He elaborates with care.

“We’re a fair side, don’t think we are a great side. There are 10 teams as good as us, a lot depends on how the competition goes. With a bit of luck and staying injury free, who knows. I’m sure Capello would like to start with the team he feels can win it and finish with that same team.”

I wondered about his appetite for the game these days. Does he still watch a lot of football?

“I don’t watch a tremendous amount of football”, he admits, kindly lining up the recorder closer to him to ensure nothing is missed. “These days mostly the top teams, obviously the World Cup. Haven’t thought about it really, it starts tomorrow and we’ll start watching it. No point in getting excited until it starts. England have as good or bad a chance as anyone else.”

Still on the World Cup, what’s his solution to one of our biggest conundrums, who partners Rooney up front? His response is characteristically forthright.

“Crouch. Don’t see how anybody could be anti with his goalscoring record. We’re talking about a guy who has a great goals ratio. Surely front runners are there to score goals. There’s talk of Heskey making Rooney a better player, well, I don’t really hold with that. Otherwise Alex Ferguson would have bought Heskey a couple of years ago.”

He paused. “It’s every player’s responsibility to do his best and Rooney would know that, whoever he plays with. Let’s wait and see.”

Greaves at a Do Recently

Some of my correspondents last season would not be so certain of Crouch’s abilities, but Jimmy was having none of that.

“Need more? Need more what? He’s scored plenty, more than Rooney. Play him, it’s that simple.”

Time to talk Tottenham. I wondered what he thought of the current team.

“Yeah, Harry’s got a good team there. I don’t know what he’s got in terms of money to spend but they’ll have a good season next year. I can see a good future for Tottenham.” He chuckled, “it’s the first time you’ve been able to say that for a while.”

Regarding any of the modern players who stood out, he was less certain. Eventually he said, “I like the Croats he’s got, they are good players and reliable.”

Jim’s an engaging storyteller and appears more relaxed with reminiscing. He needs little prompting to warm to his subject, in this case Harry’s credentials as a young manager. They played together for a while at West Ham – was Harry always cut out for the comfy heated touchline seat?

“No not at all. The first time was when I was doing a job down in Oxford and I met up with Bobby Moore. Harry was there, I said ‘how are you mate?’ He said he was helping Bobby. What are you doing in non-league, where do you want to go? He said, ‘I want to be a manager, you’ve got to start somewhere’. He started there and has gone from strength to strength.”

Up and running now, there’s no stopping him.

“Bob didn’t have a clue really. With respect, Bobby was a world class footballer and suddenly trying to buy players and know the level of non-league football. Barry Fry, he knew every name of every footballer and every non-league club in the country because that’s where he was.”

Not thought about being a manager yourself, Jim?

“No, never fancied being a manager because I didn’t see a career in football after I retired. If I’d known that you could get millions for being absolutely crap and getting the sack, I’d have been in like a shot.”

Greaves was a fine striker but who was the man he most enjoyed playing with? He had no hesitation.

“Alan Gilzean. I had a great partnership with Bobby Smith. When I first joined Tottenham, Les Allen was centre forward because Bobby got injured. People think I took his place for a while but I didn’t. Les went to centre forward. I had a good relationship with Bobby Smith because we played for England together. Gilly was absolutely phenomenal. We had a great relationship, we could read each other’s minds. Yes, Alan without a doubt, phenomenal touch.”

I expressed my anxieties for Gilly, the subject of a forthcoming book, ‘In Search of Alan Gilzean’, who has largely disappeared from view amidst concerns for his health.

“I know where Gilly lives,” he scoffs. “He’s fine. He can’t understand what the fuss is all about.” He warms to his theme. “I was chatting to Steve Perryman about 3 or 4 weeks ago. Steve sees him quite regularly. He’s happy, just doesn’t want to get involved in anything. He can’t understand this rumour about being a recluse.” So there you are.

At this point the PR intervenes, but Jim wants to make sure we have our time. “Hurry up, any more?”

I squeeze in a quick question about then and now. Does he envy the money of the modern players?

“At the end of the day I was a professional footballer. It would be nice to be on the wages that they’re on but I’ve got to work for Burger King instead!”

As the PR ushers him away, Jimmy remains a true gent. “Thank you, there you go chaps. Sorry we didn’t have longer really.” You and me both, Jim.

He makes time to sign two programmes for me, the first of the game in 1969 against Newcastle where I saw him run 50 yards to score, the second a photo of the goal in the programme of the next home game. No chance for me to ask if it was his favourite, or indeed anything much about his time at Spurs, but despite the urgings of his PR, he took the time to sign it carefully, a full signature rather than an impatient scribble. I assured him that they will not appear on ebay. “I’ve heard that one before” and with another chuckle he looked up and was gone.

On the way out my son pointed to a Chelsea fan in the burger queue, late teens or early twenties, standing near a undignified cardboard cutout of Jimmy grinning and holding the sponsor’s product. We couldn’t resist. ‘Jimmy Greaves. He’s upstairs! Greavesy!’

The guy looked puzzled, as if he was trying to figure out the words of a foreign language. He then turned away and he and his mates shook their heads in sadness. Greaves is one of their finest goalscorers too, but they’ve never heard of him.

It was a privilege to meet him, for which I’m eternally grateful, my only regret being that I didn’t have the full time with him, one to one. Not because I was denied the opportunity to obtain a better interview or ask a searching question, but simply because talking with Jimmy Greaves is an absolute pleasure. Maybe heroes don’t disappoint after all.

I didn’t have the chance to ask Jimmy about the one matter that fellow Spurs fans seemed most concerned about, his omission from the Spurs Hall of Fame. He’s not been honoured, whereas Freund has. Peter from Spurs Odyssey did ask him about it. Full details in his superb piece (link below), but the gist of it is that he won’t do the dinner. He believes that players should be honoured for their achievements on the pitch, enigmatically adding that this did not seem to be the case.

Thanks to Jack Clothier at Cow PR and to Burger King http://whopperlegend.com/ where you can watch a video and enter a competition to watch the World Cup Final with Jimmy Greaves.

Thanks to the lovely Dan at the excellent Tottenham Blog, link in the sidebar. For more, Peter Garnett on the Spurs Odyssey site is required reading http://www.spursodyssey.com/0910/pjmetjg.html