Peter Crouch

England v USA

/ Alan / 18 Comments

So much for Capello’s transformation: it was the soul-sappingly familiar England last night, unable to pass the ball efficiently or be sufficiently sharp to overcome inferior opponents. Reassuring early promise subsided into muddling mediocrity until a final flourish almost convinced me that we were unlucky. Even if something had gone in, it would have served only to paper over the cracks.

Green’s mistake might end his career, never mind his tournament. The tabloids, scenting headlines and blood, will not be nearly as generous as the pundits on both channels, but it will be nothing compared with the assault from fans behind each and every away goal next season. For years, Campbell scuttled away from the touchline at the Lane but keepers suffer particularly badly because of course they can’t escape the crowd so easily, however much they may be intent on examining the markings on the 18 yard line when the ball’s up the other end. Chelsea’s excellent Peter Bonetti was taunted to the end of his career after the Germany game in 1970, and that was in a much gentler age: ‘Bonetti lost the World Cup, and so say all of us..’. How Green might wish for something that gentle.

His error was down to technique – he didn’t move his feet. Even when he saved later from Altadore, his technique was exposed, this time he did not get his hands together quickly. However, the decisive factor in the match was England’s failure to sustain their control after the euphoria of Gerrard’s excellent opener died down. Instead of passing our way forward and retaining possession, we played the long ball too often (Ledley being guilty a few times, sad to say) and never settled into any rhythm. The US had come with a pressing game and we fell right into their hands. They certainly had the better chances until our last late attacks, and we were fortunate that Altadore remembered everything he learned at Hull last season.

I’m part of the Guardian’s World Cup Fans’ Network, which is a lot of fun but in my case proved only that I can’t concentrate on the game and tweet at the same time. To my twitter followers not interested in football, I can only apologise for the assault on your in-boxes last night. Wasted here, though, because you won’t be reading this. Anyway, my England preview is still up there but has been cruelly manhandled. Just before I retire to the nearest garret, existing for the rest of my days suffering for my art, the original welcomed both Milner and Heskey into the team. Heskey did well as target man but you knew that run and shot was less the 5-1 against Germany and much more about his unerring ability to find the keeper. I also noted how many of the squad had been off-form, injured or both this season. MIlner was one of the few exceptions, until the tournament itself. Clearly he had not recovered from his illness. I wonder if in his understandable eagerness to play he minimised his condition to the medical staff.

Gerrard was excellent but he can’t be expected to do the job of two people, however hard he tries and often succeeds. Rooney grew increasingly frustrated as he was restricted to a central role. When he broke out of the shackles later, he became more influential but in coming deeper, no one took his place further forward.

Now to Spurs. Ledley King’s awareness, timing of his interceptions (you can’t really call them tackles) and his pace over ten yards equip him to excel at the highest level, where he deserves to be. In wanting so desperately for this to be his moment, where the nation and the world could at last join Spurs fans in marvelling at his quality and dedication, perhaps I had deluded myself into believing the legs are stronger than they are. The regular games at the end of our season weakened not strengthened those weary muscles and straining sinews. I feel for him. And for an England back four denied pace in the centre.

Lennon played well. He’s worked very hard on his distribution and decision-taking, the result being that he can take two men over to him as cover, then play a simple ball inside where others can exploit the resulting pace. There’s value here, as well as in him flying down the wing, but against the US he underestimated his ability to get past his man and should have done so more often. he used that burst of pace so well at times. His teamplay and passing were impressive for the most part.

It was an ideal situation for Crouch, coming on to face a Championship defender, but it was a pointless substitution because no one supported him. Two good headers were wasted because no one was near him in the box.

The noise, the infernal buzzing in my head, ceaseless, night and day, can’t think…. And that’s just my neighbour renovating his house. The best part of the World Cup, the giddy days of intoxicating optimism and heady solidarity before a ball has been kicked and it all goes wrong, it’s over. Back to reality. Hard graft rather inspiration is required to get out of a group, and we have enough of that to stagger into the next phase. Let’s march on together to inglorious defeat in the quarter finals.

It’s the World Cup You Know

/ Alan / 7 Comments

Having spent most of my adult life whinging and cursing at England teams with all the cohesion and familiarity of a park-up team on a Sunday morning, it’s unsettling to watch a squad that plays consistent winning football. And just as I get comfortable, it could all be flushed down the pan.

Last time I went up to Blackheath with my mate John Browning, I was first pick, on the basis that this newcomer must be a hidden talent because I was wearing clean socks. Frankly that had more logic to it than the selection policies of certain England managers over the years.

It’s all down to Capello. He understands the importance of retaining English virtues of high intensity and tempo, rather than aping the so-called more restricted style that pundits will mistakenly tell you suits international football. At the same time, the players understand him. Remain disciplined and keep possession. He’s accomplished a feat hitherto regarded as impossible in England circles; the players pass to each other. And the squad are obviously scared witless of him, which I like.

However, in recent months the majority have been injured, off-form, or both. Knackered isn’t on the list only because so many have been relaxing on the treatment tables of Europe. Forced to renege on worthy assurances of not taking injured or untried players, key men like Ferdinand and Barry have not only been included, they are covered by other rehabilitees like King and Joe Cole, while Capello has barely been introduced to several other squad members. Carragher long ago forfeited his right to a part of this, yet back he comes. The weather’s turned for the better but the thought of Rooney’s absence still brings me out in a cold sweat.

Although I’m genuinely looking forward to the World Cup I can’t get into much of a lather about England, or at least not the frantic anxious delirium with which I approach most Spurs games. I’ve written about this before: https://tottenhamonmymind.wordpress.com/2009/09/08/england-v-croatia/

I invest so much into supporting Spurs, England is a bit of light relief. I want them to win and will therefore feel involved and committed, but the feeling will disappear at the sound of the final whistle, rather than permeate my emotions and behaviour for however long it takes for the next match to kick off.

Maybe that’s a better way to be about football. It will certainly increase my enjoyment of the World Cup itself. I’m looking forward to catching as much as possible and taking pleasure in the game of football itself, rather than being consumed by the desperate desire to win. I’d prefer a great tournament to an England win, but both would be nice.

Tottenham players could have a major influence on England’s fortunes. Our defensive record will be decisive if we are to make significant progress because against better teams goals will be precious and rare. And who better than Ledley King to take his rightful place in world football. His awareness, timing of his interceptions (you can’t really call them tackles) and his pace over ten yards equip him to excel at the highest level, where he deserves to be. Criticised after the Mexico friendly, few people mentioned the almost total absence of Ferdinand who spent most of that match wandering vacantly and left Led isolated. King will partner not Ferdinand, as most assume, but Terry, who will dodge the pitchforks and burning torches of the baying mob and rise to the challenge, at least until we get knocked out ingloriously in the quarter finals, on penalties, and the tabloids unleash the rest of the scandals that allegedly await a disinterested public.

As the nation waits in hushed expectation of the next medical bulletin, let us join hands with our neighbours and friends and implore our gods and spirits to focus on just one single tiny piece of cartilage. That’s the spirit of the World Cup right there: Ledley’s knee brings unity, peace and harmony to the world.

If there’s any spare mystical healing energy around, let it have a go at Barry’s ankle and Rooney’s foot. Both in their different ways are key to England’s chances. Barry is the glue to bind the team together, to ensure that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. His movement is good, his anticipation better, and he can not only break up opposition offensives, his excellent passing, short or long, enable us to move swiftly from defence into attack. Rooney is simply world class, whether on his own or up alongside a partner, our only player who opponents will fear.

So there goes another rule of blogging – I’ve praised players of other teams. Regular readers will need no convincing of my wholehearted devotion to Spurs but sometimes, sitting low on the Shelf, close to the pitch, a few greats stride through matches in a style that creates magnificent envy. In the last couple of years, Barry and Gerrard have performed so well, but it was a privilege to watch Rooney at first hand this season. His was a good rather than great performance but his running, power and dedication was revealed in ways that TV cannot ever emulate. I’m sick to death of the cheap shots in the media or by comics grasping at a mistake he made whilst a teenager in the company of family members who should have looked after him better. Or that impressionist Culshaw, the one whose voices all sound the same, in the Saturday night programme that no one watched. Rooney is not Colleen’s lapdog, he’s his own man.

And while I’m about it, let’s get it over with. Ashley – mate – those things I shouted at the Lane last season, those things I wrote, let’s put all that behind us. I’m sure that you’re a decent bloke, if I got to know you…you’re bang in form and could win it for us.

Rooney cannot win every game single-handedly, although that won’t stop him trying. Which brings me to possibly shatter another blog staple: if I’m critical of the England strike-force, I have to criticise Spurs players. Defoe’s link-up play is much improved but he’s not bright enough to outwit top-class defences and injury has dulled early season sharpness. Crouch will always provide a percentage return but this diminishes in proportion to the defenders’ ability. Anyway, a nudge in the back will put him off and his mere presence encourages the unnecessary use of the long ball. Who would have thought I would be wistful for a fit Heskey? Anyone ever suggest that he start by losing a few pounds?

Oh dear, I feel dirty somehow. Let’s end on a more optimistic note. The one thing that will make England different is pace. No single defender can cope with Lennon in full flight, and if there are two men on him, there’s space in other areas, which Gerrard and a couple of Coles, coming from deep, could exploit. He’s fit and raring to go. Just let him off his leash, Fabio, sorry, yes I know, it’s Mr Capello to the likes of me, just him have a go.

Spurs v Bolton. That Will Do

/ Alan / 9 Comments

Job done: one down, two to go. On the morning after the afternoon before, the prevailing emotion is one of raw anticipation for the City clash but at the final whistle sheer relief was the only feeling on my mind.

This is Tottenham – we never make it easy for ourselves. I never for a moment believed that this would be the lull before Wednesday’s storm and sure enough Bolton proved to be well-organised and motivated opponents. However, we had enough space to do what we do best yet seldom passed the ball through midfield. Movement was stilted and we gave the ball away needlessly, time and again.

I didn’t gain the impression that the team were stage struck, immobilised by nerves. Our play was not so much hurried, rather it broke down through basic failings around poor control, especially from the strikers, and a lack of purposeful mobility, which meant that without a passing opportunity, we were often caught in possession.

If ever there was a match when Luka needed to buzz then this was it but he suffered the most. He worked hard but had little impact overall. In my preview I noted concerns at the form of our strikers and take no pleasure in having those confirmed. Pav was awful, consistently out-muscled by Cahill (if we need another centre half in the summer then we could do a lot worse than look at him) and his woeful control meant that we could never hold on to the ball whenever it was played forward.

Not Pav

When the chances did come, one early on and then later as Bolton were stretched, he either fluffed his lines or was in the wrong place, hanging back when he should have been hammering towards the edge of the 6 yard box. In the second half he applauded the Park Lane as they lifted his flagging spirits with the chant of ‘Super, super….’. No one had the heart to tell him that it was directed towards Gary Mabbutt who had been spotted in the crowd.

Defoe looked brighter in the second half and should not have been taken off. That shot that went just wide resulted from one of the very few passes ahead of him into a channel that he has received in the last three or four matches, but again he looked lethargic, the tell-tale sign of his anxiety being the  unwelcome return of his old fault, drifting offside.

The game began in an atmosphere more like that of a derby than a home encounter with Bolton. Not since the cup and league encounters in the same season in the 70s, when we were both vying for the top spot in the second division, has this fixture produced such a noise. They must have been shocked, they can’t be used to this.

Buoyed by the waves of support, we started well but it soon became apparent that we needed something out of the ordinary to break through. Which

The Statue Formerly Known as Kaboul

Huddlestone duly provided, a sumptuous first time clean strike rising all the way into the very top corner.  At such moments, this big ungainly man is transformed into the epitome of athleticism, body and mind in complete harmony. A electrifying experience, worthy of winning a match.

He was our best player because throughout the match he sought to be available for teammates and remained inventive, probing and passing short and long. One deft run from defence carried him past several tackles and set up the forwards, who once more let him down. Under pressure, Tom did not shirk his defensive responsibilities either and when he did make an error tried to rectify it as soon as possible. My main criticism of him in the past has been his lack of awareness and anticipation. He doesn’t read the game well. If the first yard is in the head, the message takes a while to reach his feet. Yet yesterday his positional play was sound and one occasion in the second half he set off to cover a potential gap before his stray pass had even reached the opponent. He’s not played well recently and in the past has hidden in the big games, so all the more reason to praise him now.

In the man of the match stakes, his goal would give him an edge,  such was its thrilling brilliance, but close behind were several defenders. King was unobtrusively dominant. There’s an economy of effort about his play these days. He sort of slides over the ground, a series of rapid short strides transporting him to wherever danger lies, then snuffing it out. This belies his strength: one consequence of his injury is that presumably he has plenty of time to work on his upper body. Davies tried to make him give ground, to be met each time with steadfast refusal. When players make the game look straightforward and effortless, it’s a sign of greatness.

Dawson again performed with admirable solidity, coming into his own in the second half when first Bolton pushed us back and then drove a series of  crosses into the box. But the big surprise, and very welcome it was too, was Kaboul. Formerly known primarily for his statuesque performances, in comparison making Hud look as agile as Beth Tweddle, he repeatedly stampeded down the right, showing pace, awareness and considerable skill. Towards the end he remained calm as the tension cranked up, timing tackles impeccably and using the ball with care. He and Lennon linked well in the short time they were together.

Last but not least, Gomes was decisive coming off his line and sprightly on it, on the few occasions that he was called upon to make a save. He makes better choices now between catching and punching, the majority of the latter achieving decent and safe distance as he emerges fearlessly into the ruck of bodies in front of him to clear the danger. His absence on Wednesday just does not bear thinking about, especially as he seemed to injure himself in a moment of needless effort. Let’s be honest, he can be a bit of softie, asking for the physio to come and tend to a speck of dirt on his gloves. I hope it’s not too bad – it was a good time to break up the play (added time had begun) and if he had been badly hurt, surely he would not have joined the lap of honour, although probably that would have disappointed his young daughter who he carried in his arms and who clearly enjoyed it far more than most of the squad.

If this central defence stays tight and taut, and does not get moved around by City’s pace up front, it provides our best chance of a point or three on Wednesday. They work tremendously well together as a unit and also enable the ball to come smoothly from the back.

We never do it the easy way. Bale and Lennon provided a taste of what we might look like with them both in the team as Bolton came forward and the space opened up, but a succession of good chances were squandered. In the end it did not matter but would have eased the suffering in the stands. The moment when the ball was swung wide to Bale who hit it first time across the box was breathtaking. Clearly a training ground manoeuvre.

Afterwards Dawson took the plaudits for Player of the Year. Waiting in the tunnel, he could not resist nipping out to get a better view of his highlights on the big screen. He’s terrific.

The lap of honour was a desultory affair, the player hidden under rainwear and apparently keen to get into the warm and dry again. No left-over goodies from the Spurs shop tossed into the crowd. No footballs booted into the stands. I’ve come to expect such corny theatrics at the end of the home season. No one was bothered – perhaps like us they had thoughts only for City.

Breaking Rocks In The Hot Sun, I Fought Oh Never Mind

/ Alan / 14 Comments

Although I normally detest DIY, knocking down a brick wall in the garden today with a 14 pound sledge was curiously therapeutic. In such trying times, I’m grateful for small pleasures.

As Daws slipped, so our dreams were replaced with dread and disaster. 48 hours on, what rankles is not the pitch or the injustice – we were easily the better team – nor even the lost opportunity of another cup final. It is the realisation that fourth place, a proper tilt at our great London rivals and the glory promised by this momentous week is fast fading away. Weary legs and shattered morale is no condition for the eve of the Arsenal derby.

More talented than Redknapp

So who’s fit? I mean, really fit, not someone passed fit by the medics and written on the team sheet by an optimistic manager, but people who can last 90 minutes in the white heat of this bitter contest against one of the best teams in the country. Redknapp thought he could get away with it on Sunday. Play them for 60 minutes, we’d be a couple of goals up, replace them with someone else who could last the rest of the match. Or maybe he didn’t have much of a choice, and he may not tomorrow.

Word is that King is available. The plan to save him for Saturday and Drogba may be out of the window, or stick with Dawson and Bassong. Bendtner is (astonishingly) in a run of form and alongside Van Persie will pose a greater threat than we would have expected a week or so ago. Walker may not be risked at right-back so Kaboul could slide in there, but he may be required elsewhere. Benny may be on the left with Bale pushed forward.

Hud and Nico were both nursing leg injuries on the coach home. Kaboul is the obvious replacement defensively, alongside Luka. Led’s not mobile enough for this role these days. But wait, who’s this riding over the horizon? Jenas is reportedly fit, is this the moment for redemption in the eyes of a crowd who have become increasingly critical of his abilities in his absence? Spurs may not have passed him by after all.

Jenas is third from the left

Up front I have no place for Crouch. Nothing personal, but his presence discourages the movement and invention that is required to beat Arsenal and Chelsea. Enough with the long crosses. Bentley, get in to the byline – Walker’s pace may help here, so let’s be bold. It has to be Pav plus one, Defoe if fit for me.

I know it’s not the done thing, and remember I have been hating them for longer than most of you who are reading this, but they’re good, you know. They also point up the crucial problem with our team. Redknapp is expert at grouping players who at their best will play to their strengths and dovetail into a team. They know their job and stick to it, which is why Harry’s players like him. In this strength, however, lies the problem also. There’s no flexibility, whereas our opponents have their team ethos and shape. Whoever comes in, it’s easy for them to fit in, whereas our performance suffers if one or two are at anything less than their peak.

The key to the match could lie down our left. If Bale, whether at full-back or midfield, comes forward he may push Walcott back and prevent his pace doing much damage. He’s not much of a defender either. But if young Theo keeps him occupied, then we are diminished as an attacking force. It will be a compliment to Bale if Wenger leaves him on the bench.

Redknapp said this week that in order to bounce back from the semi-final defeat, there’s no team he would rather meet than Arsenal. This is the dated media posturing of a man with his back to the wall, desperate to put a positive spin on impending doom. Anyone but Arsenal more like. Yet we don’t know the mood of the players. We shouldn’t project our own despondency onto the squad. In a manner worthy of my maturity of years and character, I reacted to the defeat in the normal way. Ignore all media, stick my fingers in my ears and sing ‘lalalala’. Eventually I read two newspaper reports, both of which were sympathetic towards us – we were unlucky. And if that is the mentality that the club take into tomorrow’s match, determined to make amends, then we are in with a chance. The sub-text to these reports was that there was nothing much to worry about. However, fans are clsoer to the true state of play that most journos. Our sub-text is that the semi revealed our chronic lack of resilience, in which case we could crumble under the pressure.

Honestly? I fear the worst. But we can rely on one man to give his all. Michael Dawson will be burning to make up for the cruel fate he suffered on Sunday. If even a fraction of his determination and application rubs off on the others, we’re in with a chance.