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.

Is That A Tornado? No, Just Our Gareth.

October 21, 2010 / Alan / 11 Comments

A deep trough of despair. Darker than the furthest reaches of an undersea abyss. Despondency worse than watching ‘The Deep’ on BBC recently. Believe me, that is touching bottom.

Soaring skyward, floating high on wings of joy. The freedom born of pure elation. In between, flatline mediocrity. A footballing lifetime in 90 minutes. Euphoria terror disbelief exhaustion. Spurs in the Champions League.

We’re off! Spurs. In the Champions league. In the San Siro. Never thought I would see the day. But Adrian Chiles is on the pitch so it must be important.

Hang on. I saw him coming, why didn’t you? You saw him, Lenny, Zanetti I mean, but you stood still. No one else picked him up. Gomes, arms and legs. No good explaining it to your Brazilian mate, you’ve got to go. The rest, funny lines across the screen. Trouble with the signal, or hands over my eyes.

Graph of My Emotions After 15 Minutes

We’re all in this together. Sounds vaguely familiar. Reality is, some groups suffer more than others, and in our case, it was the fans. Spurs defensive formation was totally overwhelmed by a team playing the highest quality football. There were individual errors but I’m inclined against vulgar finger-pointing. Collective failure requires collective responsibility. We had little idea how to cope until the second half when we slowly sorted out the basics, not a lot to ask, and Milan slowed to walking pace. Even then they made inroads on a regular basis.

Given that we were a goal down after less than two minutes, it’s stretching things to say the writing was already on the wall, but in virtually the first movement of the game, Bassong advanced 35 yards from his goal to confront an opponent. Our goose was cooked. The midfield offered no protection so the back four had to come out. With Lennon looking on, neither back nor forward, Hutton advanced. Zanetti into the space left behind, gratefully, the pass a cutting thrust to our heart. In creation and execution it was beautiful simplicity, but there was so much room.

Inter, all poise and movement, lulling us into a false sense of security as they idled on the ball. In reality they moved in synchronicity, a many-headed single organism. Patience, then the gap and they pounced. Two and three, different players but the same move. Behind the defensive midfield and into the space, Bale and Lennon redundant as they should have come in much tighter to form a barrier at the edge of the box. Inter nonchalantly toyed with us like a cat pawing a half-dead sparrow.

Whilst I admire Redknapp’s attacking instincts, he mis-read this one. With Lennon, attack is the best form of defence: I get it, Harry. Defenders outside the Premier League have found Crouch surprisingly hard to handle. However, he misjudged his opponents. Lennon was the wrong choice, at the start and then when we had to make the substitution. We were too open when we did not have the ball. Modric should have stayed on. We could have remained creative, agile on the break and held possession better, a major fault as JJ was particularly wasteful, his anger at his own failings shown in his pace as he dashed back, sadly, too often too late.

Crouch meanwhile was crazily distant, 10 or 15 yards too far up the field. He could have been an effective outlet for the ten men but failed until the second half when clearly he had been given instructions to fall deeper. Surely that message could have been conveyed to him earlier. Compared with Inter’s superb football, our few hopeful crosses towards him in the box looked utterly pathetic. The one decent ball to the far post, he failed to even hit the target. This is the Champions League, we have to do better.

Late in the first half, Bassong was caught fully 65 yards from his own goal, still trying to get to his man. One on one he’s fine, good pace and timing, but we had learned nothing. If Gallas is supposed to be the wise old head at the back, then I’m not sure what exactly he’s up to. Benny was caught on one move but that was a breathtakingly accurate pass. One of many. Hud and JJ were bewildered, naïve innocents amongst masters.

If you’re four down at half time, the first word that comes to mind is unlikely to be ‘relief’ but be honest, you felt the same. Those fans who had confidently stated before the game how wonderful it was to be there, don’t really care about the score, didn’t consider the possibility of this impending catastrophe. Half-time was both respite and the source of further terror at what was to come.

Or so we thought. Inter strolled around but for the most part we were more resilient, tighter and narrow when they had the ball, set up for damage limitation.

Then came a force of nature, magnificent in all its fearsome glory. Bale could have fulfilled his defensive duties better but in full flight he is one of the great sights of European football. With ruddy cheeks, wide eyes and floppy hair, he looks like a kid in an adult’s body, but he is an awesome, inspiring figure who terrified the defence of the holders of the European Cup.

Television doesn’t truly show how big he is, unstoppable on the go and with the stamina to make lung-busting runs. Close control at full tilt, direct to the heart and one, two, three into the same corner.

Gareth Bale at the San Siro

How can defeat taste so sweet? When Bale is in your team. Scintillating, superlative. I’ll stop now.

We were beaten by a much better team, whose quality will be seldom matched in Europe, and 1-0 in the San Siro is OK. Today it’s the exhilaration of Bale’s hat-trick that remains, although I suspect that’s the mind doing good deeds in covering up some horrible memories from earlier in the evening.

There is genuine reason for optimism, though. They are strong defensively although we never seriously pressured them for any period. With ten men that’s understandable, up to a point, and when they come to the Lane in a couple of weeks they’ll have on their minds a vision of Lennon and Bale running at them, never mind VDV. Whatever, it will be fun finding out.

Perhaps the most significant move of the game was not one of Bale’s storming goals. After about 70 minutes, we pushed the ball around for 30 odd passes before suddenly upping the tempo for Hutton to advance towards their box. He wasted the chance, shooting over with his left foot when others were well-placed, but that’s not the point. In the move, we looked like Inter and that’s a real compliment. Steady, one and two touch, ball and players on the move, then the move on goal. Granted Inter were strolling at the time, but we were transformed from the gauche, naïve waifs of the first half. I think we learned something after all.

True Love Blossoms Against the Villa

October 3, 2010 / Alan / 17 Comments

I demand my rights as a taxpayer and citizen of our great country. A public inquiry, nothing less. Maybe a Royal Commission, I’d accept that if pushed. Never mind Chilcot and Iraq, the might of the nation’s investigative forces should be re-focussed on a single key question: who told Daniel Levy that Rafael van der Vaart was available for transfer from Real Madrid?

The story goes that in mid-afternoon on deadline day, Levy rang Harry Redknapp to say he’d heard the player was available at an acceptable price. Might H be interested? No doubt you’ve heard this one, a moment in our modern history that is fast becoming part of the club’s folklore. What I want to know is, how? How did Levy know? Who called him? Why Levy and not some other chairman?

The reason is, find that person and I will give them everything. The house, the car, new flat-screen TV, that nice art-deco lamp from my wife’s family. Take it, anything you want, I’ll get down on my knees in gratitude because you deserve it, my friend, you deserve it.

Well, actually, you know, it’s a lease car so that’s not really on. And the house, nice little end of terrace but mortgaged to the hilt, so you might have to wait 20 years. OK then, all my worldly goods and chattels. That’s it, I’ll collect all my chattels for you. There’s the watch – no, that stopped 9 months ago and I haven’t got round to fixing it. The laptop! No, from work. This second hand thinkpad notebook that I’m typing on now…. Look, Ok, it turns out that I own nothing of any value whatsoever, but have it. What are chattels anyway?

You all adore him already. Bet I love him more than you. The control, vision, the quickness of thought matched only by the pace at which he moves the ball on. Athletic, squat and bullish. The confidence and swagger. Pointing, the ball here, give it here, now. Let him roam, wander wherever you wish. Where you end up, it’s the right place to be.

More than this, he makes everyone else play better too. They scurry around where before they would be still, waiting for something to happen. Now, now they want a piece of this. So Pav comes off the front man, Crouch peals away in expectation, JJ pushes forward with determination, head up, looking for the channels, Bale and Lennon on the charge out wide, Hutton comes from deep and Luka, lovely Luka, has a partner at last, someone on the same wavelength. Push and probe, up the pace of the attack suddenly at the edge of the box. VDV, just by being himself, opens up space. Defenders are uncertain, on the back foot, anxious. Notice how we had room for one-twos around their box. Not all worked but there was room for willing runners.

Dream away, there are goals too. The first, prosaic. A far post cross (the sight of one striker crossing to his partner, rare with Spurs these days but so welcome) and he with predatory instincts makes a run that Pav, Keane and JD should be able to do with their eyes shut, but don’t. And he’s in there, muscles needed now, no danger that anyone else will beat him to it, the power to force it home, the will to be first.

The second, breathtaking. Another header across the box, this time he’s in the thick of it. He hears Dunne’s heavy tread thundering down upon him, the brave defender launches what he believes, certain, would be another block like that which thwarted VDV earlier…and Rafa shimmys, a flicker of movement enough to take the ball under control…it’s like he has the power to manipulate the laws of physics, such is his ability to create space. Elemental particles bend under his thrall. So there, as the ball bounces to knee height, there is clean air where before there was none. Then the hammered volley. A moment of shimmering brilliance that will live long in the memory.

Before I go on, one more thing: what a fan-bloody-tastic game of football. The second half in particular pulsated with excitement, end to end, thrilling football, high drama, top quality skill from both teams at breakneck pace, near misses galore, heroic individual performances, old-fashioned physical challenges, frustrating mistakes. We are lauding a fine victory in what has been a great week for the club, while any Villa fans glancing at this will be aggrieved at not picking up a point to reward their excellent counter-attacking, but in the end we all love this game of ours. Here was a reminder of why football so captivated us as kids and weaves its magic spell to this day.

One reason for such an open game was that neither defence was able to get on top. Villa brought 10 or 11 men back without hesitation and for once Spurs deserve great credit for consistently finding a way through rather than floundering on the massed ranks at the edge of the box as happens so often. Movement, purpose and the ability to come down the flanks as well as through the centre created several chances, Pav, Hutton and Pav again failing to hit the target in the first half when well placed.

At the other end, our 8th choice centre half was targeted by Villa as our weak link. First Heskey then Carew was pushed up against Big Tom to exploit his inexperience in the role. Heskey destroyed Huddlestone. He had no idea whether to come tight or to drop off, and Villa wreaked havoc in the opening exchanges. Young was excellent throughout: I had long since dismissed his potential but in a freer role he will prosper. Always a danger yesterday. Albrighton looks a real prospect too.

Heskey it was who bullied the hapless Bassong into conceding the ball, then a bulish run into the box led to the goal. Coincidentally, he was a celebrity audience member in last night’s Comedy Roadshow. Michael McIntyre duly took the piss re the World Cup. Nothing like a bit of topical humour. Heskey smiled sweetly throughout his humiliation as the crowd roared their derision, but his wife’s fixed grin was truly terrifying. Astonished that this could happen, she then gazed at the stage with a rictus grin, eyes burning laser beams of hate straight into McIntyre’s heart. His performance today was a reminder that with all his faults, and there are many, he could have been so effective a player. His injury was a turning point – it relieved the pressure on our ailing defence and allowed us to move forward with less risk.

After the break, Harry allowed VDV more freedom in the middle and Lennon out wide kept Villa’s left side occupied. Most significantly, Jenas was stronger in the centre, offering more defensively and coming forward into the gaps ahead of him. Another fine performance.

However, there were still wide open spaces at the back that became a series of heroic individual contests, Benny and Seb one on one with their attackers, deep in the box. Great stuff, and they both did so well. Bassong is much better alongside some experience, playing off another centre half, but he had a good second half. Benny had a stormer, hurling himself into challenges and barely putting a foot wrong. Positioning not so hot for either of them but one on one they won their battles.

I would have liked Hutton to have tucked in more to assist Huddlestone but Harry was urging him forward. On the other flank, Bale as ever a danger.

In the first half, Villa counter-attacked at pace, effective indeed but we gave them the ball all the time. back it came, pinging off Pav and Crouch’s feet. This was another thing we handled better in the second period, keeping the ball.

Luka played in fits and starts, good combination play with VDV in particular but he does not look match sharp as yet. Together as regulars in midfield – dare we dream?

So a marvellous game and a deserved win, just about. Villa obligingly refused to spoil our week when two players missed the same cross and whilst they were always threatening, Gomes did not have to make a difficult save.

Rather than losing momentum in the international break, it will provide precious healing time for our injured centre backs. Without wishing to sour the mood, we won’t get anywhere without at least a couple coming back to full fitness. Then watch us go.

Monday Meanderings – Time to Take Stock

September 27, 2010 / Alan / 19 Comments

Time to take stock. Two defeats in 5 days against London rivals concentrates the mind wonderfully but the state of play is best judged over a longer period. As time passes, the fixture list metamorphoses from a series of randomly generated matches into little sequences that within the context and meaning of an unfolding season form intertwining patterns, our DNA of 2010-11.

Disregard our rivals from north London (I’m avoiding the A word as I’m not up to the massive interest from their fans that my last post created via newsnow). Our weakened team was worse than their weakened team – meaningless.

Our first little run was all the ‘W’s and it’s not worked out quite how we hoped. It’s not so much the dropped points – WH (doing it again, see) may have been down the bottom of the table at kick-off but they played really well – but the manner in which we lost them. This was supposed to be the time when, fuelled by the glory and passion of the CL, we kick on. Finished top four so play like a top four side. Instead, we’ve responded to the attention and pressure that success brings by allowing familiar faults to reassert themselves.

On Saturday we knocked the ball around well enough at times. VDV and Luka were creative, finding space and moving the ball on. However, this was undermined by a lack of graft and drive in midfield, a number of below par performances and above all the distinct lack of a cutting edge up front, a sentence that unfortunately also sums up the West Brom and Wigan game. We were pushed back in midfield too often.

I won’t dwell too much on the defence on Saturday. They did not do well, obviously, but we only conceded once, and no team in the country could perform well in the absence of their entire first team defence. Corluka is effectively our 7^th choice centre back and Hutton had not started a league game for us for over a year.

What concerns me is the way we come forward with the ball. Crouch’s presence means two things. One, we hoist the ball forward too high and too early too often. As I wrote last week, when the ball is in the air, it’s the great equaliser. At a stroke the skill advantage is nullified. It’s pointless having this talent if all they do is watch the pretty spinning logos on the ball. If it’s neat patterns you want, get a Spirograph.

Two, our strikers are too far forward. Crouch loiters on the edge of the box and this dictates the pattern for the rest of the team. He waits, hangs around, occasionally jogging across the line. It’s easier to defend. Sure, he’ll always win a few but by and large our opponents know roughly where the ball is going to be played.

This isn’t about Crouch himself – I’ve whinged often enough about how easily he can be eased off balance or about his poor close control – it’s tactics. Pav does the same when he comes on, or at least he has done this season.

I’m no coach or master tactician. I simply watch other teams. When they gain possession, the top teams in this country do not push one or two men forward straight away. Rather, they begin their runs from a deeper position. The best aim for the gaps that appear in front of them. They don’t wait to be picked up by the defenders, they make it difficult for their markers to predict where they will go. Coming from deeper, attackers can come short, move across the pitch, run into channels, have the ball played to feet or into the space ahead of them. That’s five options right there, without the inclusion of passes from a wide man going to the byline. Normally we have one at our disposal.

Also, our style means it’s hard for midfielders to push on past the strikers. This is a powerful weapon against packed defences but if they have so little space with which to work – if the strikers are hanging around the edge of the box then they have only the narrow strip between the back four and an onrushing keeper – there’s no margin for error with the final ball.

Against Wigan, Wolves and WH, we made it too easy for our opponents. We’ve played like this all season and, more tellingly, last season as well. Versus Wolves we brought on attacking players who just joined the line dancing 18 yards out, rather than trying to move around, take defenders out of their comfort zone, to make space.

In VDV we have a top class midfielder. He’s so shrewd with his movement and his ability to move the ball on quickly is remarkable. Good control, looks up, one touch and it’s gone. On Saturday and against Wolves, so often that quick ball went in Crouch’s direction. I think he’s been told to do that and it’s wrong. That’s not the best use of his massive talent.

Moreover, even if that is the tactic, leaving Crouch or Pav isolated renders it worthless. There aren’t enough players in the box to pick up on a header or knock-down. We have too many hanging around, instead we need strikers and midfielders to bomb on, hell for leather, get in there because that’s where the chances are.

Defoe looked sharp this year and his injury is a great loss. He’s been looking to shoot early, the old striker’s dictum of getting it on target, and it will be effective over the course of a season. Whatever my tactical rant, the fact is that we have missed a hell of a lot of good chances so far. Huddlestone on Saturday did just what I have been asking for, pushed on past the striker, made space, and missed.

Enough. Nothing about Corluka having all the spring of a tangled Slinky. Or Bale and Hud looking lost. Or Lennon and Keane struggling to find form. Maybe a word of gratitude to Cudicini for his saves. Spurs fans are often accused of having unrealistically high expectations, but the fact is, we have not progressed this season. I’m prepared to swallow the pain of a defence decimated by injury but not a fundamental flaw in the way Redknapp sets up the team and wastes the talent at his disposal.

To be fair, we have not had the full squad available and he’s not had the chance to work out how to play both VDV and Modric. However, pre-season fears that our strikers will not be able to score consistently against the best defences have proved to be accurate. Make that, average defences as well.