Betrayal

November 19, 2010January 20, 2011 / Alan / 27 Comments

The significance of the north London derby in eyes of Spurs fans should never be underestimated but this week it has been totally overshadowed by a greater drama off the pitch. The future of the club is at stake, placed in jeopardy by the man who is supposed to act as its custodian.

Tottenham Hotspur’s interest in the Olympic Stadium had been largely dismissed as a bargaining chip to force the hand of planners first in Haringey and then, when permission was granted, in the Mayor’s Office. Many years of effort and considerable expense had resulted in a scheme for a sparkling new ground right next door to the Lane. It would never be the same but would run a close second, with emphasis on fan-friendly stands close to the pitch plus an ‘end’. When the hard-fought battle for planning consent was won, there was general satisfaction in the Spurs community.

In hindsight, perhaps we should have paid more attention to the warning signs. Close to the deadline, we declared an interest in the Olympic site in Stratford. ‘Declared an interest’. Doesn’t sound like much, just a sensible fall-back should there be further hitches, but the signs were there. Spurs were in bed with AEG, a powerful entertainment company not used to failure. A Spurs director, Keith Mills, is on the Olympic board, then, quietly a couple of weeks ago, we pinch another senior executive from an Olympic committee.

However, the biggest error was underestimating the business acumen of Daniel Levy. He may have twisted and turned when it came to decisions about football management but in business he’s cool, decisive and ruthless. The anxiety levels rose early this week with an article by Paul Kelso in the Telegraph. Because of a £50m increase in the WHL redevelopment, suddenly Spurs’ interest in Stratford was ‘deadly serious’. Kelso continues:

“Some people have said that the Olympic bid is just a means of getting leverage over Haringey, but the club is committed to running this process in parallel with that development. If they are successful in winning the bid for Stratford they will have to make a decision, but it is deadly serious,” said a source with direct knowledge of the deliberations.”

Kelso revealed that Spurs have hired Goldman Sachs as advisers. Now I am no financial expert as my bank manager will readily testify but even I know these people are going to charge more for opening a letter than I earn in a month. Serious indeed.

The Spurs plan is essentially the purchase of the site. We intend to knock down the stadium and rebuild afresh. Planning and transport issues would be a doddle compared the tortuous negotiations that are still proceeding in north London. The downside is the athletics legacy enshrined in the site, whereas the main rival bid from Newham Council and West Ham keeps the running track. However, our bid is reckoned to be far superior in terms of the financial structure, and we all know money talks.

Interestingly, AEG run the O2 arena, which lay dormant for years until all previous plans were thrown out the window so the company could create a giant and highly profitable entertainment complex from the place that was intended to be the nation’s millennium legacy. Perhaps an appropriate legacy for the times after all, but the point is, they managed it once and can do so again.

Then yesterday came a tweet from David Lammy, the Tottenham MP and a Spurs fan. A few hours after asking twitter for questions to put to levy, he emerged from the meeting with these few words:

“Devastated – Levy is serious about moving, not a bargaining chip at all”

Twitter is much maligned as a communication medium but it encourages a concise approach, witness his next message shortly afterwards:

“Decision based on what is cheaper – putting profit line before history, fans and community. Really devastated.”

That provoked a deluge of information that continues unabated but essentially that’s it, right there. Lammy himself has allegedly gone much further. He suggests that the site makes Spurs a better prospect if owner Joe Lewis wishes to sell it on in the near future, and that Boris Johnson is actively encouraging us. No wonder he’s delaying the N17 decision.

The Stratford option is a betrayal of our heritage and of the passion of the vast majority of Spurs fans. No amount of discussion about the merits of better access will outweigh the feeling of staying close to our roots. It’s 5 miles or so away but it may as well be in another country. That’s not our part of the world. It’s not Tottenham Hotspur.

Levy’s plan to build next the Lane is a triumph. I never thought we could emulate our north London neighbours by building a modern, spacious ground in our area, yet we are so close.

I’m aware there’s a lack of logic in this argument. I and other Spurs fans vehemently campaigning to stay in N17 are being disingenuous because we live miles away, and frankly would not choose to live in the area if we could possibly avoid it. Stratford would be much easier for me.

But logic has nothing to do with being a football fan. That’s the whole point – it’s about profound emotional attachment, belonging, being part of a culture that stretches back over 125 years. Tottenham is not just where we are, it’s who we are.

Like I say, money talks. Levy is accountable to the shareholders, not the fans. However, he would ignore us at his peril. Football is a business but clubs and their fans are more than mere commodities to be bought and sold. We need to make some noise, at games as well as outside. Confront Levy with a reaction that he can’t ignore. Remind him that whatever he likes to believe, he is accountable to us after all.

Reaction and protest is gaining pace. There’s a petition here: http://www.petitiononline.co.uk/petition/say-no-to-stratford-hotspur/434

Got The Love

November 15, 2010November 15, 2010 / Alan / 7 Comments

Feel the love. Lot of it about at the Lane on Saturday. Not what I expected, to be honest, given the edginess that crept in on Tuesday night and its aftermath, but all the more welcome for that. Hallo clouds, hallo sky, hallo floodlights. Goodnight, and I love you all.

It all started with Robbo’s annual pilgrimage to the Park Lane. All good fun as he milks it dry but I wonder what the Blackburn fans think. He doesn’t seem to share as much affection for them. The warmth and generosity is real but it’s odd that he should be the one, considering that he wasn’t a home-grown player and the number of errors he made during his sad decline towards the end of his time with us. During which period, it should be noted, that he took some massive stick from people around me and no doubt in other parts of the ground. Other players such as Carrick or Berbatov, shone more brightly in navy blue and white and certainly have a place in my heart but receive a very different reception.

The interaction between fans and players is a profoundly complex dynamic. Spurs fans have always been appreciative of most returning former players, with the announcer’s comments of ‘and a warm welcome back to…’ reciprocated in kind applause. I’ve never bought the ‘fickle Spurs fans’ argument that is still trotted out today by lazy hacks as soon as the grumbles become audible. Fans of other teams are exactly the same, getting on top of teams or players when they do not perform to expected levels, and our crowds have remained high through thick and thin.

There are many factors in play, including the ability of players, how long they’ve been with us and great moments in their careers, but in the end fans come to an unspoken consensus about two related elements, namely their honestly on the pitch and their feeling for the club. Deficiencies are usually forgiven with the passing of time if we know, or think we know, that our man has given everything in the cause and that he cares about us. With Robbo, we helped him through his bad patch, muting the vocal criticism as he suffered, especially for England after the Croatia goal, which wasn’t this fault. Carrick and Berba were superb for us but indifferent, part of Barba’s charm for me. Carrick might have got away with it but both committed the ultimate sin that overrides any of these considerations – they wanted to get away, and the Bulgarian’s behaviour was awful.

Lots of love for Pav. Glad it was there, we nurtured him over his terrible miss and the penalty, and he responded, finally, with a thrilling header from Bale’s juicy cross. It works, but Crouch would not have been treated so kindly. As I’ve said many a time, I would play Pav in preference to Crouch but I’m not convinced by him. For every glorious volley against Fulham last season or Bolton, there are many clumsy failures. There’s a third factor here, one that Spurs fans have held dear in the forty years that I’ve been watching us. We know what good football is and how good footballers go about things. We know what it looks like, smells and tastes like, because it’s the fabric of our heritage. Crouch doesn’t match up, I’m afraid.

No love from or to another old boy, Chimbonda. His extended, earnest discussion with Pav before the penalty presumably wasn’t about catching up with old friends. It worked, alongside Blackburn’s blatant delaying tactics, and Chimbo reminded him of that fact with a few well-chosen words as the ball smacked into the hoardings. I’m still not sure which foul the penalty was given for. At the time I thought it was Robbo on JJ but I think I fell asleep during MOTD. Maybe my mind switches off automatically when Lineker and Lawro start droning on. That’s evolution, that is.

Not to worry, we felt it in our fingers and our toes. It was all around us, as the Park Lane sang, ‘Harry, Harry give us a wave’. All that bother was behind us, and we like mensches made the first move. Harry’s reaction was way over the top – it never occurred to me leaving the ground on Tuesday that there was a problem – but hey, forgeddaboutit. See, we’re warm and caring, we understand if the pressure gets too much. Just make sure you deserve us, H.

The football helped. Lovely, flowing play, moving the ball purposefully and easing through and around Blackburn’s massed ranks of defenders. Five at the back, haven’t seen that for a while. It seemed to confuse them and certainly didn’t stifle us. Modric and VDV, good interchanges, VDV coming in off the wing to make an extra man in the centre and leaving space for Hutton to overlap, which he should have done more. Two up front and after my complaints about Tuesday’s tactics, fair play to Redknapp for picking this attacking formation.

Even if others demur, I’ve still got the hots for JJ. At least, if he plays like this. His drive and stamina provided an extra dimension, even if not all the passes came off. We came at Blackburn from a variety of angles, rather than just down the flanks, and JJ filled the space on the left created by the two defenders who take on Bale. An excellent all round game and his chance of a richly deserved goal was denied by a good tackle from Jones, who despite the backpass error in the first half, is destined for big things.

It helps if we’re playing well and go a goal up. Ironically it came from a corner, ironic in the sense that Blackburn’s cast of extras from Land of the Giants were set up to repel precisely all such set-pieces and our inglorious failure on Tuesday night to provide anything other than defensive heading practice. A precise ball and a near-post header worthy of Alan Gilzean. There is no higher praise.

Nothing can stop Superboy. His early crosses were beaten away by the second man, one in for the tackle, the other just behind to cut out any stray balls. But Bale learned from Tuesday and put the ball in the air. The cross for Pav’s goal took the breath away, pulled back at full stretch, instep curled around the ball. Pav looked so happy as he was engulfed in the crowd. Relief, sure, but joy and gratitude too.

Bale’s surges are a wonder to behold. I take in every step, each touch, every moment where suddenly he has the ball and does the unexpected, he can’t get through, surely, but he does. Enjoy every moment – this is brilliance of the highest order and he’s nowhere near the finished product. We love him and he loves us, he must do with his endearingly silly heart gesture. That’s what I really love about him. He’s just a kid. Hope he never grows up, that the innocent, fearless ebullience of youth remains everlasting.

Halftime and there’s more love than San Francisco ’68. Hopefully fewer drugs. Ricky Villa had more average games than good, let me tell you, but not only did he provide the moment of my footballing lifetime, his affection for the club is genuinely touching. He means it when he says he can’t quite fathom how he can come from his ranch to be adored by each and every Spurs fan, even after all these years and a World Cup winners’ medal in his home country.

Second half and more cracking football, hugely enjoyable, although both our goals came from Blackburn errors. It will give Crouch some confidence. I hope he’s getting plenty of TLC from Abby because it’s in short supply at the Lane. The game was won by the time they came back into it. If Sam had only rung me, I could have told him that we’re more vulnerable if you attack us, rather than massing the ranks of defenders, but hey ho, the phone never rang. He could have picked it up from Tuesday night but by the time they played some decent stuff, and they did look good, they were four down and Sam spent most of the second half as if stretched out in a Blackpool beach deckchair.

We defended well as the crosses swung towards their big guys, Gallas in particular made two fine headers, against bigger men, plus one off the line in the space of a few minutes, but we were less strong with the second ball at the edge of our box. I think he’s been injured but I’m pleased Dunn stayed on the bench for so long.

Time and love to spare for Gomes, patting his badge and his heart but with this pleasant, modest man, it’s real. We’ve looked after him through his bad times and he’s grateful. Not the cocky know-all celeb reaction from him, for him we are important and he wants to give something back.

Let’s stay buoyant in this sea of love but keep an eye out for the sharks – two late goals plus two off the line, that equals four… but an enjoyable, open game and plenty of the good stuff from Spurs.

Not All About the Clattenburg Clanger

November 1, 2010November 1, 2010 / Alan / 5 Comments

Let’s do it then. 93 minutes of a fascinating and, for lengthy periods, pulsating match at Old Trafford can be dismissed because only 60-odd seconds really matter, or so you would think if you followed the media this weekend. You want more, don’t you, there’s not been enough about it.

It’s a while since I’ve seen so much go wrong in such a short space of time. Kaboul was fortunate to get away with the foul on Nani, then the winger took the most definite hold of a ball since Michael Johnson’s last basket but the turning point comes a few seconds later. Clattenburg’s decisive signal that he was denying the penalty appeal was not matched with a similar sign indicating advantage. Where Gomes placed the ball is irrelevant: all keepers pinch a good few yards if there is a free-kick close to the byline. Also, the ref could easily have thought our keeper was about to shift the ball upfield quickly. Then, Gomes hesitates, he knows something is not right. Scoles and other United players are urging Nani to get over his childish sulk and get on with it. Gomes looks to the ref, hands forward, and is met with a shrug. Up to you, old son, the ball’s in play.

The linesman’s late flag was reasonable. He had every right to assume the ref knew what he was doing but just in case, he wanted to tell him about the handball. There was an interesting discussion about refs on 5 Live last night. Some refs tell their linesmen not to flag for a foul if the ref is in their quadrant. I bet Clattenburg falls into this category. He likes to be in charge and be seen to be in charge. Linesman says handball, ref says I know. If the referee allowed Ferdinand to join in because he just can’t be arsed once again to tell players to shut up and go away for the zillionth time in a match, I might have a little sympathy, as players haranguing refs drives me bananas. But for a guy who wants to be in charge, it was a sign of fatal weakness. At least it offered further evidence of what a dipstick Ferdy is, abusing the linesman even after it’s gone his way. Not like our lovely nice boys – the stream I watched replayed pictures and sounds of the Spurs players around the ref at full-time and not a swear word to be heard. So sweet.

I don’t want to defend the ref – he did not deal with this well – but in the end, play to the whistle is an adage drummed into the youngest schoolboy and I presume it’s the same in Brazil. This season, referees are allowing more advantage and they do bring the ball back if none is gained. Clattenburg could have done so here, as Nani advanced towards the ball. If the FA followed rugby’s example and issued clear guidance to referees to permit a few more seconds for the advantage to pan out, football would be a better game. I remember saying that when I was a schoolboy, too.

Gomes was daft but I feel for him. This bizarre episode will be endlessly replayed over those blooper reels, with ill-informed D-list celebs ripping the piss out of our keeper to get a cheap laugh, and I don’t want that to happen because it’s so undeserved. He’s a fine keeper who had an excellent match. Often exposed by wayward marking in front of him, he was a redoubtable last line of defence.

Now we have Harry banging on about it, including in the Sun, where he just happens to have a contract and column. He seemed philosophical at full-time, chuckling away ruefully with Fergie. If the pressure on him to comment leads to a touchline ban, he’s more stupid than the ref.

Enough already. I’m curious as to why this one incident has occupied so much attention in the media this weekend. Sure, it’s crazy in itself, let alone in a top of the table Premier League clash, but the coverage has been way over to the top. It’s not as if the match hinged on this one moment. It snuffed out our final desperate efforts to seek an equaliser but we were a goal down and flagging. To me, it’s symptomatic of one of the most harmful aspects of the modern media coverage of our great game. It is reduced into micro-moments. ‘Let’s have a look at those penalty appeals’ and the TV pundits snuggle up to replays of 37 angles before pronouncing that they’ve seen those given. Football is about the ebb and flow over time, territory fought over, assaults repulsed and swift counters, all balance and guile, sweat and toil. On Saturday, the first half in particular was a pulsating advert for the much maligned Premier League, full of open, flowing and skillful attacking football. It’s like nobody bothers about that any more.

Also, from Spurs’ point of view, the Clattenburg Clanger is a convenient smokescreen to mask the limitations of our play. Harry doesn’t want to get into this, and neither does the media, because it doesn’t fit their current perception of our team. We are getting great publicity: our squad strength is praised consistently, rightly so, and our attacking football has won friends, especially in the Champions League, where if you want goals, choose the Tottenham Hotspur option on the red button. However, take a closer look, as we fans do, and there are a couple of problems that are not going away as the season goes on.

There are genuine positives to take from the match, especially the way in which we took the game to United in the second half. It’s not much, but we forced our opponents back for lengthy periods, holding possesion and probing for the gaps. We compelled them into making changes to bolster their defensive shield, and it’s a while since you could say that about a Spurs performance at Old Trafford. Van der Vaart was again brilliant in the first half. His turn and shot utterly breathtaking. Modric took a greater part in the second half, showing how well he can perform. We were not strong up front but at least we made some chances.

But there we are, what’s going on upfront. Not much. Keane’s selection was a brave one. He played well in that role in preseason and in theory it means we could keep it on the ground. However, he was largely anonymous, so it was left to VDV to provide the punch. Pav did well enough when he came on but there’s no disguising the lack of threat from our strikers, whoever plays there.

At the back, we were far too open. If United had not been so unusually wasteful, we could have been three down by half time. I’m always talking about how the midfield fail to protect our back four, so I won’t bang on about it again. Suffice to say, Superboy may appear invulnerable but in the end he’s human too. He has to get goalside and do his fair share of defending. Too often on Saturday he was drifting in no-man’s-land, 5 or 10 yards outside our box as United got in behind us. Same goes for Lennon and Modric to some extent. I don’t wish to be over-critical of these excellent players – but they have to do it and it is holding us back because it leaves us vulnerable.

Kaboul did well once again, a fine prospect, but part of his particular learning curve is when to get in tight and when to bounce back a fraction. Against Everton and on Saturday, unnecessary free-kicks led to goals. On Saturday the error was compounded by downright useless marking in the box. It was criminal to leave Vidic with so much space. Our injuries at the back are beginning to make me maudlin. If only. If only Daws and Led were fit. If only Woody could have come back…it means so much, and could mean real might-have-beens come the end of the season.

Is That A Tornado? No, Just Our Gareth.

October 21, 2010 / Alan / 11 Comments

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

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

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

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

Graph of My Emotions After 15 Minutes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gareth Bale at the San Siro

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

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

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

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