sports

One Touch Too Many

/ Alan / 14 Comments

One touch too many, a phrase that sums up Spurs’ performance last night. A radically altered team seldom captured the flowing passing style that’s been a feature of our season and we couldn’t score against 10 men despite having all the possession and territory in the second half.

This was like a trip back in time, all the way back to, oh, last spring at least. Players wanting three or four touches on the ball when one or two would do. Turning back into their man when a simple lay-off would keep the ball moving and stretch our already beleaguered opponents. Haven’t they learned anything from playing alongside Parker the master?

As a result we were continually caught in possession and allowed PAOK time to regroup after half a break had been made. Their massed ranks meant our one-twos in and around the box bounced off knees and ankles as well as feet but they didn’t mind as long as it stayed far from their goal. Many like Defoe and Pienaar tried too hard, setting the ball up for the perfect effort rather than catching them unawares with the early shot. Pienaar in particular failed to exert any authority – let’s be kind, he was finding his way back to match fitness and leave it at that.

The fact that it looked so dire is a tribute to how far we have come since last season. We play at pace, in set patterns that rely on Walker and Bale as well as Lennon to be quick and direct out wide and for Modric and Parker to shift it swiftly and accurately in the middle. On three occasions in the second half, we played a ball wide right from about 30 yards out and there was no one running on to it. Not making excuses for shoddy passing (there was plenty of that), but this sort of move is rehearsed in training and encouraged on the night, barely look up because that’s what has been coached. Yet Walker wasn’t there, not until later. We’ve grown into comfortable patterns and couldn’t readjust in time.

It’s not so much the individual, it’s the blend. Quality players in an unfamiliar line-up are just that, individuals and by the time the worst of the shambles was over, we were two down and beaten, despite the penalty and sending off that brought us unexpectedly back into things. We couldn’t finish them off, that old familiar Tottenham. Balls into the box, no one to finish it off. Their keeper was excellent but seldom tested. Ah, the good old days.

I say it’s not so much the individual, that doesn’t excuse some of the desultory efforts on show. Rose showed why he has so much to learn about the art of the full-back, especially positional play. Corluka, a defender I have a lot of time for, was appalling. Looking to him for basics of good positioning and solidity, he failed with the basics of passing and covering all night. I realise he wants out but we looked to him for leadership by example and there was none. However, twice it was the defensive line up that left acres of space between the four of them, twice the Greeks scored. The guy with the first goal seemed almost apologetic that such a gentle header should count. Where was Livermore and the midfield cover? Where was the tracking back?

Sadly I wasn’t at the Lane last night. I say sadly – this is my foolishness, I would rather have been there to witness a defeat than stuck on my sofa. Anyway, Graham Taylor rightly picked out the ‘one touch too many’ refrain several times. He wasn’t so sure about what to do about it. When asked he chortled, ‘That’s up to Harry!” It’s a cracking gig, being a pundit. They get £2 or £3k a match, I think. I’m available. It’s true that I haven’t actually been England manager or played football at a level higher than the Oaklands Road Primary 1st XI but at least I have an opinion.

I would have played an almost full-strength team from the start. I’m old-fashioned enough to think that a European competition is worth winning and that winning something is better than coming 4th in something else. I’m also calculating enough to say that on the balance of probability, it was worth the risk, despite Liverpool’s example from earlier this week where Lucus was crocked for 6 months. I’ve praised Harry for easing us on to the outside with the minimum of effort, two furlongs to go and a clear run ahead without breaking sweat. Win this one, effectively play one match at anywhere near full tilt, and we were through to the stage where over 2 legs we could beat anyone. Get there, then take a view depending on how we doing in the league and the FA Cup. Stamina is not a problem for this team and we could have coped with this game.

Credit to PAOK. Unlike the away match, they were organised and determined, refusing to be shifted from their Alamo positions behind the barricades.

So I’m disappointed today, but onwards and upwards. Harry’s heart was never in it and in the end that was the attitude of several players. If we had been 5th or 6th in the league, maybe he would have taken a different view, but we’re third and deserve to be so Bolton it is and three points.

Finally, I’m also disappointed with how many people on the boards and on twitter have written off a few of our young players. I know we all get grumpy after a result like this but to dismiss Harry Kane’s chances totally as many have done, or Livermore’s for that matter, is ridiculous. Kane is just 18 years old, our central striker in a key European game, he worked hard and could have scored on two occasions, would have if it were not for a handball on the line.  It’s hard enough as it is for young players to make it, never mind a reaction like this.

The Real Deal

/ Alan / 15 Comments

i suppose this is what it feels like. Supporting a top team. I mean Spurs, always a top team to me, right up there, don’t anyone try to tell me different or I must ask you kindly to step outside. But this real. Third place, two points behind Manchester United with a home game in hand. Playing the best football I’ve seen for thirty or so years. Lauded by other fans and the media because we have goals, victories, and above all, style. People want to watch us play.

We’ve done top four in the recent past, of course. We were fourth because we deserved it over the season before last, but be honest – there was a big gap between us and them, the top three. They played classier football, the way it should be played. Now there’s no us and them. We are them.

It’s taken me a while to get used to it but I’m fine with it now. A little stunned at first, waiting for the wheels to fall off, just like they always do. 40 plus years of support, it will surely go wrong soon enough, just when that sense of false security creeps up on you. Even on this run, we had a bit of luck at Blackburn and Fulham. Yeah yeah, winning ugly, I know, but come on, between you and me, luck, huh? But this week we slaughtered a decent mid-table side and overcame West Brom yesterday. Hey, what the hell. We’re brilliant, exciting, fluent, beautiful, did I say brilliant already? Top three, doing things in style. I can handle that.

I watched the Villa game with someone who likes football but has never been to a Spurs match before. She said she was ‘dazzled’ with the live experience, being close to the players, the crowd, the ebb and flow of the play with the fans being part of it. I replied that I’m on my way to half a century and I was dazzled too. Yesterday we showed some of those breath-taking moves, movement of players into space faster than we spectators can keep up with, the ball shifted from one end of the pitch to the other in the blink of an eye, we saw these on a few occasions, especially towards the end when our redoubtable opponents were pushing on and left gaps. The example was Defoe’s goal, a memorable and stunning moment, one pass from Benny, a deft flick that opened up acres, then a thirty yard run before a bludgeoning finish. Pace and delicacy capped by a sudden eruption of power.

But the real deal manifests itself in other ways too, and that’s what has really hit me. The ball’s played upfield, no worries, we’ll get it back soon enough. Stretching for it, it’s OK, kept it. Always someone available to touch it on to. Long ball down the middle of our defence, meh, Kaboul’s sorted it. Or Brad’s swept it up. Sweet. Any Spurs fan will tell you, we are not used to that feeling. Uncharted territory. I’m still exploring but I kind of like it.

This week we faced two new challenges. On Monday we resumed after a long break against a decent side. How many times have these matches been our downfall? The ones we are supposed to win. Our opponents keep it tight, we go down to a late winner. Not so long ago this was Spurs. Stoke, Wolves, Blackpool. Yet we destroyed Villa. Moreover, they came to the Lane and they were scared. They didn’t see Spurs as beatable if you put in a shift and get stuck in, but intimidated.

Yesterday we faced and overcame a new and different challenge. For the first time this season we were confronted by a well-organised team who pressed us mercilessly, leaving us no time to settle and play our football. Time and again we were pushed back, back passes when we are used to sweeping onwards. No time to set any rhythm or tempo. Modric’s true influence apparent in his absence. Then a goal down, Bale’s ineffectual defending gave Reid too much space, then we failed once again to deal with a cross, albeit a fine one, placed between our centre halves. Not for the first time – it’s a weakness that was nearly exploited by Odemwingie near the end. I’d be interested to hear if anyone reading this is a coach. It’s a tricky decision for defenders – centre forwards have been trying to set themselves up in the gap since football was first played – but I assume Kaboul as the man who can see the forward should leave his station and come to him.

We’ve faced such challenges before and folded. Not now. We have the ability to change and a manager able to get the message through. Under pressure, we shifted slightly, same shape but more attacking. Defoe pushed up to get closer to Manu, who worked magnificently, his movement opening up the defence throughout but he was isolated in the first half. Parker moved up, just a bit but he lead us whereas earlier the match largely passed him by. Full-backs pushing on – Benny superb today, dominating that flank, more passes than anyone else. Bale on the right stopped Thomas’s advances and shut down that attacking option for the Baggies. Sandro, booked and surely one foul away from red, remained diligent and composed. Fearless, he did not shirk a tackle or physical challenge. Such poise and bravery is top class.

We introduced width and upped the tempo. The second half was ours despite West Brom’s continuing efforts. The players responded with relish but Redknapp deserves full credit. Manu got a late third after missing other chances, including a penalty but we make so many chances these days.

So a fine win and a glorious week. Fabulous football, enjoy it with me. I can’t recall a spell quite like this one. Quality yes, plenty of that over the years despite what we Spurs fans might say, but never the consistency. In 82 we might have cracked the league but for a crazy fixture pile-up that left us worn out and with only a dull cup win to show for it. That came close but this is right up there. And the best thing is, there’s more to come.

End Of An Era

/ Alan / 10 Comments

Earlier this week I received formal notification that Tottenham Hotspur PLC is proposing to de-list its shares and become a private company again. As a shareholder, I’ve been kept fully informed even though the postage on the thick wad of legalese cost twice as much as the value of my holding. I have one share, literally a share holder, so that’s very sweet of them, although as a responsible shareholder I feel disappointed and concerned that the board have wasted this expense on schmucks like me for whom it makes no difference. Add up the postage, labour and paper, it’s enough to pay Manu’s wages for at least 12 hours.

Frankly I have no idea what it means for the club’s finances. Daniel Levy says the listing “restricts our ability to secure funding for its future development.” That is, the new ground is easier to fund this way and if that means we are a step closer to the NDP, I’m delighted. Levy is a master of his world, finance, and has always looked after the club in this respect. Even with our low capacity we made an operating profit of £32m, a rise of 42%, boosted by the Champions League pot of gold.

Management Today(what do you mean, you don’t read it daily?) takes a more cynical view, wondering

spurs blog 57

Buy Al's Share, Buy! Buy!

if the furore over the Olympic Stadium has lead Spurs to prefer life without the added scrutiny of external shareholders. Then there’s Redknapp’s forthcoming court case which is scheduled for January, the same time as the de-listing. Pure coincidence, but the assuredly bad publicity can now have no affect on the share price. It doesn’t mention suspicions that the ‘I’ in ENIC means they have half an eye on a future sale.

What I do know is that this is the end of an era. Nowadays it’s commonplace for football clubs to be listed companies but Spurs were the first and it wasn’t that long ago. In 1983 an ambitious businessman called Irving Scholar was determined to make his mark as our new chairman. Before then, the club had for many years been run as a private company by the Wale family but by applying the same business principles that had made him a wealthy man, Scholar aimed to drag football finances into the twentieth century even though it was almost over. In the process, Spurs would become the richest team in the land.

As well as going public and raising money on the Stock Exchange, Scholar took over two clothing and sportswear companies, including Hummel, fondly remembered for providing Alan Ball’s revolutionary white boots. The ground was empty save for one or two days a month, so use it for alternatives at no extra fixed cost. The space under the Park Lane became a factory. The income was to be ploughed back into the club, a secure stream unaffected by the uncertainties of league position.

Scholar shrewdly assessed the zeitgeist. Leaving aside the rights and wrongs (not easy for me to do but anyway..), we were in the midst of Thatcher’s property-owning democracy where the public could buy pieces of the de-nationalised industries, make some easy money and feel part of things. To borrow from contemporary politics, we were all in this together, except that times were good.

On top of that, Spurs fans were offered the unique chance to be a part of the club. Long excluded, unlike like any other fans we could now have our say and influence the future. It proved popular. I don’t have any statistics to back this up but I reckon the number one Christmas present for Spurs fans that year was a share certificate.  There’s no doubt that the share offer caught the prevailing mood.

spurs new stadium

I've helped buy that

I was given a hundred shares by my then girlfriend. It was worth about £160 but to me it was a priceless token, sealing my attachment to her and to the club. These were the only shares I have ever owned and I kept an eye on their progress, all the while thinking that like the family heirloom on the Antiques Roadshow, I will be delighted to be told it’s worth a fortune but I would never sell. Many fans of different clubs have their certificate framed on display, proving it means something.

At one point they were valued at over £500 but soon they plummeted, as did the relationship. By the time I was kicked out and the shares sold to get rid of a painful reminder of happier days, they raised less than £100. Spurs’ romance with the new ways faded just as brutally. We sold our finest players Waddle and Gascoigne to stave off financial ruin and the businesses failed. Maxwell was a telephone call away from taking over the club so perhaps we should be grateful for Alan Sugar sorting out the mess Scholar left behind. Actually, perhaps not, but again, that’s a story for another time.

It was then that the true nature of the new era became clear. Thatcher’s meritocracy was nothing of the sort. Power and wealth became concentrated in the hands of the few and the gap between rich and poor widened. As with society, so it was with football. The advent of the Premiership and the Champions League meant that the top clubs and Sky TV held sway. Rocketing admission prices transformed the fan experience with many alienated for good, never to come back, and others priced out of the game they loved. Kick-off times were at the whim of television. PLC not F.C. Far from being part of things, football fans had never been more helpless.

Now we’re all experts on football finance. We have to be because it’s all over the back pages and otherwise we can’t keep up with events at our clubs. Never mind 4-4-2 or 4-3-3, it’s the income to salaries gearing that holds the key to success. False 9 or false accounts? Ask some of the clubs that have gone down the tube. Despite the sterling efforts of fans’ organisations and protest groups, the legacy of football shareholding is that many of us feel more distant from the game, our game, than at any point in living memory.

I’m still in play, mind, thanks to the gift a few years ago from my daughter of a single Spurs share. It came in a fancy tin box (safety deposit, just in case?) with some blurb about the club. Now that’s a juicy business to be in – buy the share for next to nothing, add cheap packaging and charge £19.99. Football fans are nothing if not loyal and gullible.

So what to do about the de-listing? I don’t know where the certificate is but I recently found my last dividend cheque, £0.04, proudly un-cashed. The PLC tell me my share is worth 33p and I have until 11th January to decide. I could sell, and use the results of my foray into the murky world of high  finance to buy, say, a 6th of a cup of instant tea or coffee on matchday, or two gulps of water. I expect that I won’t be bothered, however, and will keep it as a souvenir of the days when the club couldn’t be bothered about me either.

Spurs v Villa – A Two Goal Thrashing

/ Alan / 8 Comments

A nondescript autumnal evening in a mousy part of north London. Monday night football, a game on the dullest day of a week that’s barely got started. The ground’s not quite full, acres of blue until 5 minutes or so before kick-off. A game we should win, and did, by a couple of goals at home against a mid-table side. In the history of Spurs, less even than a footnote, a dash or a comma maybe.

But when we look back and talk about the best performances, the days or nights when Spurs really turned it on and played with the verve and daring that marks us out from the rest, those who were there or who gaped open-mouthed in wonder at the television will fall quiet and with a far-away look in their eyes softly whisper – Spurs v Villa, November 21st, do you remember?

A performance of style and shimmering beauty not so much took the breath away as sucked it forcibly from your lungs leaving you gasping and swooning with astonishment. In the second half there was no let-up. Wave upon flowing wave of movement and inventiveness dazzled the hapless Villa defenders into submission. Attackers ransacked from all angles. Bale steaming down the left or muscling his way into the middle, scorching swerving missiles impossible to handle. Lennon tricky on the right, Van der Vaart sliding across the edge of the box, no one could have picked him up, let alone a bedraggled Villa side. Modric and Parker driving on from midfield, and again, again, no stopping them.

We’ve seen great players and fine displays many times before but seldom one of this intensity and consistency, an attitude that spread through every player and lasted for almost the whole 90 minutes. At the end of the first half the tempo dropped and we were less effective, although still dominant, but flagged only at the very beginning of the second half where, as with QPR, we seemed distracted. It was however only a momentary lapse. For the rest of the match we played as well as I can ever remember. If you want to know what I want from my Spurs, replay this spell of glorious attacking football, of unstinting effort, of intelligence, power and guile. Brilliant.

Churlish to pick out individuals when the team is the thing. Not just the runs from deep, the understanding of team-mates’ abilities that mean Parker can loop a 60 yard crossfield ball 30 yards ahead of Walker and still he gets it, or Modric can slide a ball through for, well, any of the several men who made runs from deep or came short. Not when Benny nonchalantly sprays passes into Bale’s stride or picks out his man inside, or when Kaboul mightily heads away pretty much everything.

But there’s Luka, under pressure, two men, dips his shoulder and turns in the same movement and is gone, not pausing but head up, eyes bright, searching for the next ball. Luka driving us forward time and time again or dropping deep to sweep up. Luka, having excelled to a level few others can dream of let alone achieve, makes a rare error and holds head in hands in self-admonishment. Because he cares. Chelsea, the transfer, wages – forget it, he cares.

Here’s Scott Parker. At 30, finally, he has the chance to make it at the very top and he will not allow his ambitions to be thwarted this time. Failed transfers, poor choices of club, injuries, he won’t get a better opportunity, so without breaking focus, face etched with the effort of concentration, he runs, he holds it, waits for others to reconfigure into the right place, short passes, long passes, through balls, cover tackles made as if his life depended on it rather than being in just another Monday night league match. He inspires the players and the fans. We watch him and we believe.

Kaboul, learning alongside King the master, they shall not pass. Villa are potentially dangerous in the air and on the break but when you have power and pace like this, there was no way through. Kaboul would not allow it.

Bale, not one but two full backs in Hutton and Cuellar to beat, and beat them he did. Over and over again. I don’t blame the Villa defenders for not dealing with that cross -see it live, in real time, how can anyone handle it? Manu, two goals and a couple of misses, not at his sharpest but once again his movement and ability to hold up the ball transforms our attacking options. Rafa roaming, unleashed. Should have scored, uncharacteristically over-playing a few chances at the edge of the box and passing when normally he would have shot but a fine game all round.

Ask people around my generation about the great games. Sure we have tales of finals, of Europe and Wembley, but many will give a quiet mention to another evening game, in the early European rounds at home to Feyenord with Cruyff and a young gauche Ruud Guillit. We scored four in a scintillating first half attacking unsurpassed in my memory when we got everything right. Last night the only difference was the number of goals. A victory to live long in the memory.