Premier League

Spurs Crumble Then Capitulate

/ Alan / 11 Comments

Not like this. Not this way. If we had to go, and we’ve had a miraculous tilt at this European lark, then go down with a passion, a flourish. With the style that swept Inter aside, or the courage and poise that created a victory against Milan in Italy, then the fortitude than saw us through at White Hart Lane. But not like that.

Reaching the Champions league quarter finals is a wonderful achievement, far beyond my wildest dreams when the campaign started. ‘Reaching the group stages and giving a good account of ourselves’ or some such, that’s what I wrote back then and I believed it. To be contenders, to be part of something, that would have been enough for me.

So here we are are, the heady intoxication of the CL quarter finals, and when the camera panned around the floodlit tiers of the Bernabeu, every Spurs fan in the world bit their lip and marvelled. What that, in my eye, just a speck of dust….  At the start of the season nobody expected this but here we were, on merit. We deserved to be there because we had taken on and beaten some top sides. We had done everything we needed to and no one could ask for more.

There’s disappointment but never despair in being beaten by a better team, and Madrid were far superior on the night.. This one wasn’t quite like that. Spurs have so much to be proud of but this meek capitulation means it will take a while for that positive memory to rise to the surface of my steaming and frazzled brain. To lose to a series of self-inflicted calamities hurts. However well Madrid played, however many shots on goal they racked up, all the goals were avoidable to a greater or lesser extent. Two at least made us look mugs, and that hurts badly. They pulled us this way and that, stretching our ten men until we snapped, but two of their goals were unchallenged headers from set pieces that came straight out of the Blue Square. Majestically taken but utterly preventable. An early corner and their main danger man is unmarked. All he had to do was to take a few steps forward and jump. No one was on him. No one.

In other circumstances, you couldn’t blame the team for using a corner to take a few seconds breather. Second half now, under intense pressure but surviving with two banks of four, working hard, thinking hard, still only one nil and thoughts of having something to aim for at the Lane. But against the cream, there’s no respite. Quick corner, Gallas clearly hampered all night by his injury although he did well to make light of it, nothing in his legs to jump, but still criminally isolated as another straightforward header from a quick corner.

I’ve left the worst until now because I don’t even want to think about it, let alone write a couple of vaguely coherent paragraphs. This blog makes a determined effort not to blame individuals but the utterly inexcusable actions of Peter Crouch delivered a body blow that left us doubled up. It was as if you were cornered by a gang of bullies in the park then one of your mates turns round and whacks you. The physical pain will pass but the sense of being let down lingers on.

In my more philosophical moments, of which there are many,  secretly I like it when sportsmen at the top of their profession do something stupid under pressure, because it shows that actually they’re human, they are like you and me. This is not one of those moments. Lumbering in for challenges that he was never going to win, not once but twice, the yellow card warning totally ignored. Lanky leg off the ground, not once but twice. Them’s the rules, Peter, have been all season. To compound the madness, two completely unnecessary challenges, 70, 80 yards from our goal. No despairing last ditch heroic efforts here.

Time and again we’ve stressed the value of experience in Europe and how this team has had to learn so quickly, on the hoof. Yet this is not the case for a 30 year old veteran of World Cups and of European competition. No callow youth this, tanked up on adrenalin and speeding the night away.

This destroyed us. Bizarre though it seems in the cold light of day, Crouch was arguably the single most important player in our formation. His height has troubled other European defences and so Harry teamed him with Rafa, the latter searching for crumbs as the long far post balls not only might have created something up front, they also provided a precious lifeline to relieve pressure on the defence. He might have helped out at corners too…

His absence meant we were under pressure throughout. Rafa lost his role and was taken off as the game passed him by. Ten against eleven would bend us out of shape. No out ball meant we could not shift the ball out of our half. No one to hold it up, back it came almost before we had time to catch a lungful of air. Pressed back, time and again our midfield, harassed and harried, looked up desperately for something ahead of them. However slim a chance of getting it forward at least with Crouch there would be something, but they searched in vain.

Mouriniho needs no second bidding. He pushed his men up to hold a high line. The back four could play it out with impunity. Marcello could get forward, freed from the pressure of having to care about what he had left behind at the back. No Lennon to worry about either. Very odd that, by the way. I’ve not seen the media since the final whistle. I wonder if he complained about something before kickoff and they were forced into making a sudden ‘should he shouldn’t he’ decision. Whatever, his threat was important tactically in keeping the rading Madrid full back occupied. Madird could therefore press high up in midfield, just as Barca do. We were never going to get behind their defence and Bale and then Rafa from the cheekiest of throws, were dealt with by Carvaliho. JD coming on was pointless.

Spurs passing and movement was poor and we gave away the ball so many, many times. Luka was unexpectedly at fault. I looked to him for something different. However, Madrid gave them absolutely no room to move and any team in the world bar Barca would have struggled in those circumstances.

After the early disruption caused first by Lennon’s sudden withdrawal then Crouch’s brainstorm, we regrouped and defended well for long periods by conceding territory and crowding the space in front of our back four. Jenas and Sandro worked hard, the latter dropping back to central defence to limit the room Madrid wanted to play those little angled passes. Dawson was the pick of our defenders, determined and strong. Not sure where he was for the second goal, though, and at times Madrid pulled him out of the comfort of the middle. He seldom missed a tackle. Gomes was admirably decisive and his clean handling would have inspired an increasingly desperate rearguard effort. Then an error at the near post. Those shots are harder to save than they appear on TV. It came from behind a defender and was swerving, but he still should have got a stronger hand to it to save.

Ultimately it was too much. Ten men plus wave upon wave of eager  attackers, probing away. Bale not fit enough to both attack and drop back to defend, three men on him instantly he received the ball. There was room on our right. Corluka was often left unprotected too, then injured. We’ve run out of right backs for the league now. Gallas couldn’t jump. The pressure told as we tired, giving the ball away more and more, unable to close down every forward.

Not the end of our European adventure but an ignominious night none the less. 4-0 is a sound beating. Given the  nature of the defeat, it will be so hard to be inspired by adversity to league success. Self-inflicted wounds take an age to heal. Stoke will be looking to steamroller us on Saturday, knackered, injuries and depressed. Never mind the top four, the struggle to hold on to the top four will test Harry’s powers of motivation to the limit.

 

No Wigan report this week. New piece of software, pressed the wrong button when in the final paragraph, no time to re-write it. You were mortified, weren’t you. Regards, Al

If Spurs Were United, We’d Never Be Defeated

/ Alan / 11 Comments

Tribalism is the essence of being a football fan. United in support of our obscure object of desire, Tottenham Hotspur Football Club, we pledge everlasting love and set aside other relationships in preference to the one that truly matters. We have our colours, our temple of worship, our rituals. At games or out and about, I strike up conversations with perfect strangers because  they are navy blue and white. The Lane, just before kick-off, I shake hands with people I see more frequently than I do most of my friends and relatives, people with whom I feel a deep common bond in a place where I am more at home than anywhere else on earth. I don’t know their surnames, where they live, what they do or think, anything of any significance, yet none of this matters, because we are Spurs.

Scratch the surface, however, and deep fissures shatter this fragile unity. At least, that’s the conclusion I’ve reached after reflecting on how this blog has dealt with some of the major issues that face the club. Two topics have produced more comments than any other articles that I’ve written over the past couple of years, namely Stratford and the Madrid tickets.  Not necessarily more views than other pieces, in fact ironically my most read article is an innocuous match report on this season’s away game at Everton that was picked up by Everton sites and messageboards, Surprised and pleased at my even-handed approach, they extended fraternal greetings as fellow football supporters and wished us good luck in Europe.  It’s the reaction that has been markedly different, revealing deep divisions not just on the topic itself but, significantly, on the very nature of being a Spurs fan.

There are several pieces on Stratford; the comments sections on a couple are not for the fainthearted. The single biggest issue to face Spurs since the club was in deep financial distress under Scholar was bound to provoke a meaty debate. Last week I offered some constructive criticism of the ticket office’s appalling treatment of fans trying to buy Madrid tickets but the fascinating comments section, which as a regular correspondent noted somewhat disconcertingly for an author was as good as the article, revealed distinct differences of opinion about the solutions.

To be very clear – keep the comments coming. I read them all, often respond and don’t censor or delete them. If you take the time and trouble to not only read the blog but also comment, I’m genuinely grateful. Interaction is what blogging and the internet is all about.  This piece is not about who is right and wrong. Perhaps I was being naive but the ferocity with which some people got stuck into to fellow Spurs fans did take me by surprise.  With the OS, for example, I’m anti-Stratford but understood the concerns of people who see it as the way forward. The fairest way of distributing tickets for big games is via the loyalty points system, not perfect but the least worst. However, several people rightly pointed out that if they have a membership, they are just as entitled to go for the tickets as anyone else. In fact, a wider distribution encourages a broader based support.

In the end, we’re all Spurs, right? Wrong apparently. As the debates raged, the nature of a being a fan came into dispute. Are people who have been attending games for many years more a fan than others who come once or twice a season? Younger fans in this equation will always be at a disadvantage because of their date of birth. Family circumstances and money prevent an increasing number of supporters from coming to see the club they love. When I was in this position for a few years, I remember listening on the radio to a home game when we were near the bottom of the table and physically being in contortions of agony until victory. Would I have been more of a fan if I had been at the ground? Yet who can deny the phenomenal dedication of  those who give up their time and money to follow them around the country. Some tried to find the coefficient between the two. With Stratford, both sides saw themselves as defending the club’s future, both with very different views as to how this might be achieved.

To repeat myself, I’m not talking here about who is right or wrong about Stratford or ticket distribution: I’ve written about that elsewhere, feel free to comment. Rather, I’m taking this as evidence of divisions within Spurs fans that are exposed whenever problems arise. I’d say that the one thing we agree about is that we get behind the team, but the fact is, there’s disagreement there too, the two extremes being those who cheer on regardless and those who feel justified in complaining openly by booing or abusing our own team and/or players. Most of the time it’s a comforting and humbling experience to be part of the worldwide Spurs community. Sometimes, that comfort is an illusion.

Ironic that I’d been mulling this over in a week when a 4% rise in season tickets has been announced. I’ll pay of course, and Daniel Levy knows I will. More importantly, he knows that if I don’t then someone else will. For the record, my ticket has gone up by over 6%. Increased operating costs are the reason, apparently. I work for a charity. We have cut our costs as much as we dare because of the current climate, but Spurs are seemingly immune from the pressures we all face because the law of supply and demand has come down heavily in their favour. Increased revenue from Europe and TV ( did I see an increase of over 40% mentioned?) has not been reflected in concessions to the fans. There’s no moral imperative to consider the loyal fans – but again, I’m being naive. Levy knows we are divided. I’m reminded of the industrial disputes of the 70s and 80s. Two factors overruled everything else – the unity of the workforce and how real was the possibility of a strike. Levy knows our weaknesses and will exploit them.

League Leaders Spurs in Ticket Office Farce

/ Alan / 62 Comments

Ten days ago the Football Supporters Federation, the country’s largest representative organisation for football fans, published the results of a nationwide survey of club charters, documents that set out standards of customer service. Clubs were graded according to a number of criteria, including accessibility, timeliness, quality, complaints procedure and contact details. Sitting proudly on top of the table are the mighty Tottenham Hotspur, scoring an impressive 31 points out of a possible 35 and fully 8 points clear of our nearest rivals, Arsenal. Where’s your St Totteringham’s Day now, huh?

Try telling that to anyone who went for Real Madrid tickets yesterday morning. The charter is on the web, if you have the time and inclination to work out where anything is on that messy and counter-intuitive  official site. It’s glossy, carefully constructed in well-modulated, easy to read language and about as useful as Aaron Lennon in the air, because in reality Spurs treat fans with withering contempt.

Madrid was always going to be busy and frustrating because demand massively outweighs supply. The boards and sites were bulging with tales of joy and despair as the infamous online site maroon bar tantalisingly stuttered from left to right along the screen. As ever the abundant ingenuity of fans reached new heights of creativity. Entire offices mobilised online and on the phone in pursuit of a single ticket. Different, non-premium rate telephone numbers. One person I know queued for 12 hours at the ticket to be successful.

We all understand this. Until we have a bigger stadium, sadly many fans will be disappointed for the big games. However, what truly infuriates is the manner in which the club handles these moments. The disappointment is bearable, a sense of being kept in the dark and of the club not caring is not, especially when some problems are entirely avoidable.

Yesterday I logged on to the system at 12.10 on behalf of my son who wanted to register for a Chelsea away ticket – applications closed at 5pm and he wasn’t near a computer. On the home page of the official site there was no direct link to Madrid home tickets. Plenty of knockabout hilarious banter between JD and Bale over today’s international or the breaking news -hold tight to something solid – that Crouch was looking forward to that game. Nothing about the single most important thing that any fan wants to know about their club – match tickets.

I went onto the online ticket section to be greeted with the usual message about waiting a queue, don’t refresh you putz or you’ll lose your place. Nothing happened. About 20 minutes later a sliver of maroon appeared which steadfastly refused to budge for another half an hour. By 1.20 I was about an eighth of the way along, an hour later not much further.

This could only be due to one thing – people still believed they were in with a chance of Madrid tickets. Yet a messageboard post at 10.53 stated tickets had sold out. On the ‘forthcoming matches’ page Madrid was listed as sold out but you would not access this page if you clicked on ‘buy tickets’ and were taken straight into the system. Just after 2 I had another go on a different browser. This time, a message came up saying the tickets had gone but people who logged on hours earlier had no way of knowing this – “don’t refresh” and still nothing on the home page of the main site.

About 2.30 I suddenly shot across to 75%, then was unceremoniously booted off just gone 3. My son called the box office who confirmed my suspicions – so many supporters had by this time been left hanging in the wind for at least 4 hours since tickets had ceased to be available. The club said they were intending to clear the system and start again.

This doesn’t affect me personally as I’m fortunate enough to have a season ticket. My original standing season ticket lapsed in the late 80s when my children were young and family life was busy. As they grew older, we started going regularly to matches and bought season tickets in 1999 (no waiting list back then) because of the increasing problems of getting members tickets for important matches. Even if we couldn’t go to every game, it was still worth it. Yet yesterday makes my blood boil because better communication and a better system could have prevented the frustration and anguish of my fellow fans. It’s made all the more insulting because of the mealy mouthed empty platitudes of the Charter written by club mandarins who keep themselves as far away from the unwashed public as they possibly can. Here’s a bloody charter for you from this fan.

Tell people what’s going on. We are old enough and ugly enough to handle bad news. What we don’t like is being the mushrooms under the crap, kept in the dark. Have clear, updated ticket information on the club home page. If I could do that in 30 seconds on my pony blog, then that’s easy for you too. Use the £3.70 admin fee you charged for the costs of the electric pulse that uploaded my ticket purchase onto my season ticket card, there’s probably about £3.699999 left over.

If tickets have sold out, clear the system and replace it with an up to date message. If the start time for tickets is 9.30, don’t allow people on the system before then, thus avoiding the myths circulating about when you can and can’t log on in the mornings.

The loyalty points system is not perfect but it’s the best we have and by far the fairest way of selling tickets. Use it for games like this. Publicise a number in advance, you can’t apply for a ticket unless you have, say, 200 points. Once you meet that threshold, it’s first come first served. Not perfect as I say, but better that what happens now.

I know nothing about the logistics of ticketing but these measures are straightforward. Perish the thought that any of this might cost the club money…

In my experience the individuals at the club ticket office, including the manager, are very helpful. When Paul Barber was at the club, he used to reply to genuine concerns and enquiries personally, via his Blackberry sometimes. The current system is better than in the old days. My first game at Spurs was against Sheffield United in 1967. As it was the final home game before the Cup Final, ballot cards were distributed at the turnstiles, so I could have obtained a Final ticket on the basis of attending precisely a single game. However, the system could so easily be improved. As for the Charter, not worth the glossy paper it’s written on and the FSF, noble though they are, would be better off surveying the actual experiences of fans with clubs who depend to a large extend on taking our money. About time they put some effort into treating us better.

 

Hutton Causes The End of the Universe

/ Alan / 18 Comments

Spurs deserved to win that one. Under pressure, fought back, superb goals, better team in the second half, almost held out.

Wolves deserved to win that one. Never let up, better team in the first half, probably overall, inconceivable how Hutton stayed on the pitch after the ref gave a penalty.

We should have taken it: hit the post, missed chances, Bale unstoppable when he came on.

Wolves got what they deserved, less maybe, kept making chances, no way Gomes was fouled for the disallowed goal, he threw it into his own net for chrissakes!

Oh I don’t know. You tell me. Reality is, that’s all true, every contradictory word. Wolves played exceptionally well but we had more than enough chances to bury the match, after two poor match-turning decisions went in our favour. But I’m starting again.

Two things are incontrovertible. One, it was an outstanding game, swinging this way and that throughout, drama, stunning goals and the outcome uncertain until the final whistle. Shame I couldn’t enjoy it then. This is because of the second point: our defending was abysmal. I have to admit, I like the idea of the football public characterising Spurs as the entertainers, the team to watch if you are a neutral. When we’re on Sky, I bet people make an effort to watch because one thing’s for sure, it won’t be dull. One reason for that is never mind the skill and verve of our attack, we’ve given up the art of defence in favour of some fifties throwback formation. Future matches will be covered in jerky-framed black and white, the players’ legs whizzing along and the fans throwing their flat caps into the air at every opportunity. Pass the rattle and thermos, mother, I’m off to the Spurs.

Pav Turns Away After Scoring. In My Head.

Wolves pulled them this way and that. Late in the game, chasing a precious win, first Gallas then Dawson were 70 yards from their own goal as willing opponents galloped into the wide open spaces behind them. The full backs were so far from the centrebacks, they were communicating by walkie talkie. Gomes made a couple of fine saves, one full-length tip round the post for a bouncing ball a potential match saver. Crosses were a different matter. He always looked shaky and under pressure chucked one into the goal, only for Halsey to be swayed by his pleading desperation. Whose heart does not melt at that innocent, pleading little-boy lost expression? Perhaps that’s what he works on in training, rather than catching the ball.

Harry’s renowned powers of man-management were on display again. Slaughter Hutton, let him know you don’t rate him and he’s off in the summer, then bring him back into the team and all is forgiven. Or maybe, just maybe, consider the possibility that shorn of all confidence it might affect the way he plays…  Hutton duly produced a performance of uniform awfulness that by the end was remarkable in its consistency. It’s not easy to get so much wrong for 90 minutes. Perhaps he was making up for the fact that he clearly should have been sent off for the foul that conceded the penalty. On that occasion, he was guilty of letting the man inside him. We’re all entitled to a mistake but not to repeat it, which he did for the entire game. Their runners come into the gaps in the back four. If the full back can see a man, he’s got to come across, surely. Hutton stood and gazed on, steadfastly marking space. To be fair to Harry, other players in Hutton’s situation have found the motivation when they have come back into the team through injury, whereas the Scot appeared disinterested. Unforgivable.

Amidst the joy of the Milan game, I soberly noted that the Corluka injury was highly significant. He’d come back into the team and we looked all the better for it, defending better and the Lennon/ Charlie link on the right was back in the groove. We’re really missing him. The same can be said for Kaboul, who not have given Wolves an easy ride.

Benny was better but still too far wide and in trying to retain possession gave it away too often with some poor decision-making. Gallas chose to have his worst performance for some time, uncertain and off the pace for the most part. However, it’s time to bore regular readers with my well-worn observations about defending as a team. in the first half, Sandro and Jenas didn’t pick up those loose balls at the edge of the area or do much to break up Wolves’ play in the midfield. The fact that they markedly improved in the second period only served to highlight our major weakness on the day. Wolves were more than willing to go wide because they had the freedom to bang in a series of crosses, which caused no end of trouble. They were beautifully judged and we were unable to handle them. Doyle unchallenged in the midst of our box for the first, the equaliser a classic far post header that I thought was down to good play on their part than poor defending. The player knocked it a yard to his right, out of Sandro’s tackling range, and delivered a perfect ball.

Our Defence Moments Before the Universe Implodes. I May Have Got That Wrong

Fact is, we did nothing throughout the game to stop that flow at source. Both our wide men have instincts that drive them inside. Pienaar was invisible, while Luka had a better second half. Neither prevented the flow of crosses that was our undoing. Later that evening, shattered, I dozed in front of the box. Brian Cox’s soft tones were taking me through the ultimate demise of the universe. As he spoke of the very atoms of the cosmos slowly becoming an eternal infinite nothingness, I dreamed he’d covered our defence on MOTD 2.

The amazing thing is, well though Wolves exploited our frailty, we could have easily won the match if we hadn’t determined to avoid all goals that were not possible Goal of the Month candidates. JD and Pav queued up for twenty yard thunderbolts, although that’s doing Defoe’s second an injustice, because that was a top class finish. Luka and others had been studying L’arse and were determined to have 25 touches in the box before even onsidering a shot. What a waste. All the talk of JD| breaking his duck and then the floodgates will open, the same can be said for Luka lately. He badly needs one to go in to encourage him to shoot more often.

Full credit to Defoe for a fine performance. He and Pav combined well – one went wide whilst  the other  stayed in the centre. Sometimes off-form strikers work too hard for the team in an effort to make up for the lack of goals. This is counterintuitive: they are selfish beasts at heart. Defoe is so much a confidence player – this should do him good. The same can be said for Pav – neither have technique to be relied upon and again his control let him down at important moments but he did better than in previous matches.

We looked so much more comfortable once Lennon and Bale were on, even though oddly they swapped wings. Bale was on to help out Hutton, a good call from Harry, and to introduce the element of surprise. We didn’t need reminding how much we’ve missed him, but what a threat he is. Sandro and Jenas could potentially offer so much, particularly mobility and drive in midfield. JJ overstretched himself at times in the pursuit of possession. He did well but neglected his defensive duties. I would like to have seen him nestling close to the back four. Sandro  had a decent second half, more willing to come back into

Rest In Peace Dean Richards

the box to take decisive action. Both should not have needed the presumably harsh reminders from Harry to get going. From the first whistle next time. We had similar problems at Blackpool, though with different personeall. We looked a very different prospect there  after half time – I fear this is becoming a problem.

 

In an era when football and footballers are heavily criticised, the assured dignity with which Dean Richards’ memory was celebrated will live longer than the match itself. Thanks go to Wolves for organising this with such care and respect, and to fans of both sides who raised the rafters. My thoughts are with his family.