Almost Like Being There

October 2, 2010 / Alan / 4 Comments

No alternative, really. I had to go to the meeting. As the cosmic orrery whirrs inexorably into infinity, it’s hardly the equivalent of a supernova but it had to be done.

If it were just about me, no problem. In a heartbeat. Being there is all that matters and I would have put aside most everything else, just as I have for the last 40 or more years. This was about other people, however. I take my role as a trustee of a child care charity seriously, trying in my largely insignificant way to do the right thing for others.

Can you see me?

As a reasonable, aware and generous character, I’ve accomplished a few decent things over the years but amongst the people who knew me best, my legacy will be one of broken promises, mind-numbing stubbornness and scarred relationships, all due to Tottenham Hotspur and being there. Weddings, of course weddings. Not actually been invited to that many, come to think of it. Friends living in sin, perhaps, or so dysfunctional that they can’t hold on to a relationship for long enough. Three invitations turned down, when I was younger. Maybe they just don’t bother asking any longer. As a teenager I dreamed of getting into the school team, or in the coach’s case a nightmare as I was rubbish. But my chance came, early season against the old boys. Could have cemented my place for the rest of the season, but Spurs at home, not selected ever again. Dumped a group of kids in the hands of two colleagues and walked 6 miles along a dual carriageway in the rain to get to the station, when we were in the old second division. Missed the start of a course that was vital to my professional standing at the time because Spurs were at home to Ajax. Rang in from a phone box to say I was ill, pretend cough and sore throat, I was 29 for goodness sake. And best not to think about a couple of women who swiftly lost patience. The natural blonde….oh well, best leave it.

Now many people have other stories about football fanaticism far more crazy than this. Feel free to confess in the comments section. But for me, it’s been about arranging my life to the best of my ability to be there. The course as above – I chose that one partly because it was interesting, mainly because it took place on a Tuesday and Thursday. In those days, children, an immutable law of the universe stated that Spurs played evening games on a Wednesday, the A’s on a Tuesday. T’was ever thus and evermore shall be so. And the thought of football on a Thursday, well, please. Rotas, duty systems, favours stored up for cover. But this was an appointment too far. It’s like I’ve let myself down. In a complex, ever-changing world of compromise and shallowness, a man has to live by some principles, and what is he if he lets slip the fundamentals? I despise myself.

Very pleasant it was too. Excellent company in a swanky restaurant. I know it was good because you could barely see the portions. My sea bass was more like a stickleback. I made out I had not started out of polite deference, waiting for the other orders to arrive, but in fact I paused in expectation of vegetables that never came. What they termed a sauce, I thought was a smear on a dirty plate.

My son texted the half-time score. Regular updates would have been too much, the strain of waiting, anticipating a message that could arrive at any moment. Better for the nerves to wait until 8.35. Couldn’t even pick that up as I was sat next to the chair who chose that moment to begin the speeches.

So we say goodbyes and stroll back to the station. My companions step left to the bus stop and I cross over to the tube. Then…I have to turn back. There’s still about 5 minutes left. 6 screens in the Wetherspoons on the corner, all showing Man U. Oh well. There’s another pub in the next street, 100 yards, may not be open in the City at night, quiet place, I’ve been in there before, pleasant but the lights are just a fraction bright. Just this one, give it a go.

Can’t see through the windows. May not even have a TV. Open the door, it’s reasonably busy, I register the reassuring familiar burble of a commentator’s voice plus a crowd roar. It’s us and we’re 3-1 up. There, in the corner of the screen, 3-1. I smile then in the few steps it takes to get to the bar I’m grinning manically. The barmaid was positively terrified that I was so delighted to see her.

White Hart Lane. Nearly

I dimly clocked a Spurs shirt to my right but my focus was on the TV. I looked up, it’s Bale in the box, it’s in and the whole place goes mental. I’m slapping the backs of total strangers having been in the place for all of 50 seconds. It’s full of Spurs fans. Everywhere. The surge of raw emotion, pent up and suppressed in the days leading up to this most vital of matches to the extent that I suspected the passion just wasn’t there any more, utterly engulfs me. I swoon and sway in the ecstasy of victory, flooding over me, purging the heart and cleansing the soul. The roar is deafening and we’re dancing to ‘Glory Glory Tottenham Hotspur’ over the PA as the players troop off.

A couple of blokes by the door bring me up to speed. I watched every second of the drama when I got home but somehow I felt part of it all. So to the regulars of the One Tun in Farringdon, my sincere thanks for evermore. As good as I could get to being there. And in my case that’s the biggest compliment I can pay you.

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.

Strange But True. Spurs v Wolves

September 19, 2010September 20, 2010 / Alan / 14 Comments

So Arthur turns to me, as he often does around this time, and says, ‘So what do you think, then?’ Good man he is, likes to chat, asks about the family, loves his Spurs. Been going for as long as I have. Seen it all before but comes back for more.

I paused. It was that sort of an afternoon. Warm in the pleasant autumnal sun on the Shelf, we basked in our superiority without becoming fully involved. The frustration of missing a series of chances was outweighed by the comfort that another one would be along in a minute.

I leaned forward. ‘Well’, I began, ‘I don’t want to tempt fate but…’

No such thing as fate. The universe comprises atoms and particles that behave according to the same immutable laws of physics that stretch into the unimaginably distant recesses of the universe. My life is governed by decisions and coincidences without recourse to mystical spiritual forces. We are human and make our own destiny.

However, this is Spurs, so better be safe than sorry. During a match I seldom make rash judgements, at least out loud. However on this one occasion, one lousy time I have to smugly link my brain to my mouth, you know what’s coming here, don’t you…. ‘…we’ve outplayed them’.

Well we had. No disrespect to Wolves, who worked hard and were willing to move it forward when they had the ball. It’s just that we were much better than they were. In stark contrast to this fixture last season, we could always find space and time in midfield. Bale was the main outlet, banging in a series of deadly serving pacy crosses, and through the middle Hud and especially Jenas could press on and move into dangerous areas. VDV drifted inside with impunity. We kept the ball and moved it well in all areas. Our opponents seldom ventured into our half.

Literally 20 seconds after I opened my mouth, they scored. I blamed Arthur, for asking me the question, and he graciously accepted responsibility, but the reality is: I confess. Strange but true.

After the interval, I expected some drive and tempo. Nothing. Wolves came right back into it, gaining possession and unafraid to attack. Their 4-5-1 was often 4-3-3, to their credit as they could have easily sat back and retired into their shell to protect their lead. Bale was on the receiving end of a couple of hard fouls and the time-wasting is so tedious but this is not a dirty team. McCarthy gets worked up but he knows a tackle. In the second half a Wolves player and JJ crunched in. The Wolves man stayed on the floor and the stretcher vultures twitched with anticipation but McCarthy remained seated. He knew it was a 50-50 and did not try to persuade the ref otherwise.

So the subs are on but there’s not a lot going on. Pav’s on for his mobility but he remains static, lined up with the others on the edge of their box, waiting for the ball rather than looking for it, easily marked by their back four. This is a real fault if we are chasing the game: we played into their hands.

When the ball is in the air, it’s the great equaliser. Our advantage in skill and ability, nurtured, practised and expensive, is negated in an instant because it takes most of our team out of the game. Crouch may or may not win the ball, but a man on man aerial duel evens up the odds. VDV crosses the ball beautifully- he sees it early,fine control and moves it quickly, class, absolute class. but however good the ball, that class will have a greater influence if we play through the middle sometimes, on the ground. With wide men like Bale and Lennon, it’s a potent brew, but strikers hanging around waiting for something to happen is a criminal waste.

Although Kaboul had another good game – he must be scary for opposition full-backs as this huge bull of a man charges forward at them, football’s equivalent of Jonah Lomu – the introduction of Hutton gave us more options on the right. Eventually, he picked up the ball and ran with it, and ran, ran….

The penalty turned the game. I could not see us scoring until then but whilst McCarthy will have blasted his team for an unnecessary tackle, we exerted sufficient pressure to make it happen. If Hutton had had a run in the side as BAE and Bale had, we would have a true measure of his ability. Better coming forward than defending, I’ve always felt he has been too easily dismissed by many Spurs fans. His ‘unfortunate’ moments against ManU, Birmingham and Arsenal came when he was not fully fit. Let’s not get carried away but with Corluka rightly left out he can press his claims. He and Lennon combined well yesterday and could develop an effective partnership. They used to get in each other’s way but Lennon has more to his game than he did when the pair first played together – better positioning, more options, can come inside and let Hutton carry on wide on the outside.

After the game Harry took the credit, saying what a good player Alan is. Typical Harry – as with Pav last season, he excludes men then when they appear because he has little alternative, if they do well he always knew their potential. Still, Redknapp was able to not only make the substitutions but also to shake up the team by resting Lennon, keeping JJ in the middle, dropping Corluka and bringing Gallas in. These changes did not affect the balance or effectiveness of the team. Also, players who come in are motivated to take their chance, JJ and Kaboul being the two best examples. They have seen how Harry will give men a run in the team – Benny, Bale, Dawson – and he deserves credit for creating that culture of opportunity.

Strange but true – we dominate and get nowhere, then score three times during our worst passage of play. Even after the penalty, Wolves pushed us back and in their best spell could easily have scored before a deflection fell to Pav. He took it calmly – one chance one goal, can’t really ask for more….today anyway. Then Hutton with a bit of luck, but again he made his own luck. The players seemed genuinely excited for him (was that sheer relief?). Except Benny, who half-heartedly ambled up to the collapsed scrum of delight under which Hutton struggled for breath, then strolled off again to get on with business.

Jenas had a fine game, looking mobile and strong in the centre. His hesitation when he drove forward, ball at feet, was frustrating and a glimpse of what he could have been, but as a DM he did just fine yesterday.

Gallas and King were solid and largely untroubled. I confess that I never, ever thought I would see the day when William Gallas set foot on the White Hart Lane turf in a white shirt and frankly I’m not sure I ever wanted him to. However, he’s Spurs now and the boos he received were vile and moronic. He’s Spurs, for goodness sake.

To be fair to Crouch, he won much of the ball today but little came of this. One good header, well-saved but too close to the keeper.

For Keano I feel no anger, only pity. Sadly off-form and out of touch, his eyes are hollow and dull. His chance in the first half begged to be hit first time but he took a touch, the tell-tale sign of a struggling striker. He missed one in the second but at least it was an instant strike. Maybe he can play his way back into some sort of form but it promises to be a painful business, for him and us.

So a welcome win, deserved overall, just. At half-time the three flags on the West Stand roof each blew in a different direction at the same time. Strange but true, rather like the rest of the day.

Sad news today of the passing of the great Bobby Smith. I never saw him play but from the moment I was a Spurs fan I knew he was a genuine legend. The half-time round of applause was warm and richly deserved, even before the news was out. Seeing him recently on the pitch, it’s clear that this was a fearless warrior of a centre-forward, proud and unbowed by the passing of time. My very best wishes to his family and friends.

Spurs v Bremen – Intoxicating, Infuriating, Ultimately Satisfying

September 15, 2010 / Alan / 14 Comments

Spurs opening match in the Champions League was an intoxicating mixture of breathless brilliance and the downright infuriating. Just as we became accustomed to the new model Eurospurs, dictating and dominating to the manor born, as if this were our 51st game in the competition rather than our first, familiar frailties threatened to expose it all as a giant conceit. In the end we discovered a measure of equilibrium and the result not only provides sustained satisfaction, it also heightens the anticipation for the home game against Twente in a fortnight. A point to begin with is fine, four after two matches and the possibilities are staggering.

Wide eyed we marvelled. Pass and move, smooth, purposeful and easy on the eye, punctuated by a few moments of swooning beauty, like gazing into the eyes of a stunning woman for the first time and she looks right back. Two mesmerising moves for the goals, both moving the ball 60 yards with two passes. I roared at the first, gasped open-mouthed at the second. A move of classic simplicity, made to look effortless by outstanding skill and finished with a header that was glorious in its perfection. The opening passages were truly the stuff of dreams.

Our five man midfield was set up to avoid being over-run but we proved how effective an attacking option such a formation can be. The proviso is, we have to have the right players. Last night the blend was almost perfect. Huddlestone and Jenas toiled unstintingly in the centre and crucially could also deliver the ball accurately when required. JJ in particular was excellent throughout, his stamina and passing adding another dimension to that key area of the battle. His selection to replace the off-form Palacios was a bold move by Redknapp and the manager was rewarded with a fine display.

Definition of a class midfielder: Rafael van der Vaart. This guy has got it. In spades. Strong, shrewd and skilful with a great touch and sense of where to be, right time right place. The Bremen defence were permanently on edge as he moved around in the area between back four and midfield. He wasn’t averse to dropping back when we lost the ball.

In the delicate balance between our attacking instincts and the need for prudence lay the destiny of the match. On the left we clearly ran out winners. After the group stages are over, Gareth Bale will be the most talked about young footballer in Europe. He slaughtered an international opponent in a battle-hardened team. In fact the most grief he had all evening was from his manager who appeared to be giving him an ear-bashing for not doing more of the same in the second half.

Over on the other side, the scales tipped the other way. Lennon failed to sparkle but even so he provided width that stretched their defence and kept their left side occupied. His lack of tracking back, however, left our flank ripe for exploitation and Marin took full advantage. In the same way that Bremen did not close us down in the centre, Marin was given far too much room: too often he faced only one man when he should have been double-teamed. His sense of freedom was enhanced by Corluka’s wretched evening. Left exposed, he appeared to have totally lost his bearings, a dyspraxic lost at sea. In vain I waited for this solid player to gather himself. His form has been poor for some time now and is becoming a major concern. His positional play and sound timing always has to be sharp to compensate for his lack of pace, and these resources have deserted him. A favourite of mine, I’m so disappointed.

The strength of our centre backs provided a solid platform at first for our early enterprise and later for some hard defending as Bremen pressured. Kaboul was the pick. This raw talent is maturing in front of our eyes, His application has been superb this season, taking Dawson’s determination to seize his chance in the middle of last season as his example.

Benny. Ben. Benjamin. Benny boy. Benny the ball. Ben Dover no not that one. Ben Jovi. What on earth. You know I like you, wrote about it a few weeks ago. But we’ll never know what passes through your mind. Lovely passes, good support of the attack, nicely timed tackles. Then a wildly misplaced hack up the field. I’ll actually let you off the goal. You could have done more but even if you had, he’s a big bloke and would have beaten you to that ball.

But here’s the thing. Don’t give the ball away unnecessarily. Regular readers (I can dream) know what’s coming…I’m retitling the blog. From now on it will be called ‘Giving It All Away’. It could be sub-titled ‘Severe Ball Retention’ but that would get the wrong sort of interest from Google searches. Here’s the infuriating bit. Keep the ball. Don’t give it away, let them come and get it. Time and again we presented Bremen with possession. Even when we played keep-ball in the last 10 minutes, we had that throw-in and free kick in the far left, in or near injury time, and no one took it to the corner flag. This will come with experience, or so I would wish to believe, but we’ve heard it all before, in the Premier League. It’s the hardest lesson to learn and frankly Bremen should have punished more severely.

As it was, our defence was pierced too easily in the second half. The midfield who were sound by and large, were asleep after the restart. All five of them were upfield, presenting Bremen with a open path to our box, uncluttered by tackles or pressure. Well-finished by Marin but he could not believe his luck in getting that far.

A combination of good fortune, wayward finishing and some good blocks saw us through. Cudicini could have come for the cross that led to Bremen’s first but it was a decent ball (delivered with any pressure being applied) and he was solid enough on his line. Notably his distribution was an asset – on several occasions he passed the ball to team-mates from the box where most keepers would have hacked aimlessly downfield.

The contrast between VDV and Keane could not have been more damning against the Irishman. I say this with no pleasure as in his experience and all-round game is welcome in a substitute. However, he too gave the ball away and wasted precious opportunities, opting for over-complicated passes and making runs that look good but in fact ask far too much of his colleagues. Notice how often his runs require a ball of such precision, into the narrow strip between the back four and keeper, or a ball right into the corner that takes him into safe areas for the defence.

I detest the popular phrase ‘settle for a point’ because it denies potential and restricts ambition. However, the fact of the matter is, an away point at Bremen is a fine outcome. Undoubtedly parts of the second half were excruciating – I covered my face with my hands on more than one occasion – but this morning I was quietly delighted, a feeling that has stayed with me all day. Driving late last night night, I found myself switching from station to station, just to hear the sports bulletins, opening item, “and in the Champions League tonight…”, followed a few moments later by ‘Tottenham Hotspur’. These words are so familiar, yet so distant. Until now that is. Exhilarating and excruciating, this is the Champions League and we are part of it. And I want more.