The cult of the confused

At what point does a players inability to be above average consistently elevate him from being a bit rubbish to a cult hero? What is a cult hero exactly? I've always associated the term with someone  that wasn't great and bullish enough to tap into the mainstream as a recognised top drawer player. Although you could tag a highly skilled luxury player or someone who played out of their skin and above their grade (even if they were blatantly out of their depth in doing so) for the shirt with the same backhanded compliment.

In modern times you might look no further than Steffen Freund as the perfect example. Plenty of posturing and screaming to make up for his distinct lack of anything. But legend they call him because he played with his heart on his sleeve. And sometimes his inane battle cries worked. But you can't help but love the blokes love for THFC and thus it doesn't matter how average a player he was, even though the fundamental crux of the matter is the football and how well you can play it.

Zokora is another player that had very little footballing astuteness. Loved his rampaging runs forward, single direction, forward in a straight line, no stopping, just forward until he either fell over or blasted the ball to the moon. He too had tenacity. Fantastic athlete just no grey matter.

Maybe cult isn't the right terminology here, but when exactly does a player become much maligned/hated/abused and when does he find categorisation as said 'cult' and thus excused for his failings because, well, he just wont make the grade so may as well accept him for what he is and love him unconditionally for at least giving something back, be it, in spurts of joy rather prolonged sessions of love.

Jenas is hardly cult. But much maligned he is. Why? Is it because we expect so much more from him? Or because he doesn't do a zany dance when we win games? Is cult simply a tolerable level of acceptance? A standard that can sometimes exist outside other standards because there's a necessity for this middle ground of footballers?

When we sat just above mid-table we sort of tolerated the likes of Zoko until we worked out he was not the answer to our defensive midfield frailties. But now we sit Top 4, contenders (we aspire to be) there is no room for this ilk of footballing 'star'. We need finished articles. Not random pages stripped out of comic books.

I find it humorous that one or two Spurs fans have suddenly labelled Wilson Palacios as a cult player because of the over excitable commitment he has shown in recent games, when not too long ago he was a 'destroyer', commanding as the stop-gap in midfield before personal issues consumed his confidence. Some of us are stretching the boundaries a little it seems.

Or say a player like Alfie Conn (if we choose to go back to the past) who was hardly rubbish but had a short yet memorable stay at the Lane and endeared himself to many whether it was ball at feet or sitting on top of it. A good type of cult? Talented but not a world beater.

The other end of the spectrum, you'll find Gary Doherty who was not good enough for the top flight, yet he tried bless him, boy did he try. His awarkdness, his lack of elegance, his ginger hair. A cult followers wet dream. But when you strip away the t-shirts what are you left with? Just a lad who was over-rated by those who signed him and over-used because of the lack of depth at the club at the time.

Would cult befit someone like John White? I don't think so. White is tinged with legend, a life cut short by a freak accident, a storming presence in our greatest ever side.

I've seen the phrase tagged onto the likes of van der Vaart, who is hardly someone benefiting from the vocal support of a minority. Hardly. Bit like calling Dimitar cult for the Berbarotic he subjected to us that had so many blinded for a season. But say vdV left us this summer, would that warrant cult status because his Lilywhite days would be nothing more than a pocket of appearances?

Is BAE cult? What with the two distinctive groups of support, one that rates him the other that is perpetually unsure?

Okay, so let's return to the first sentence of this article. At what point does a players inability to be above average consistently elevate him from being a bit rubbish to a cult hero? Do they simply require an occasional fire in the belly or marauding run and skill or perhaps something side splitting funny (row z again) to gain notoriety? One game or a glut of goals? Or inconsistency tinged with genius?

Is it in the eye of the beholder or is it a polite way of saying, you weren't that good, not great enough to be a legend but you did something that will not be forgotten. A gentle, respectful nod. Nothing more nothing less.

Thoughts?

I haart van der Vaart

Word from the sponsor.

2 points, 8 games, 1 hero and Taxi for Maicon proved a tad popular and what with Studs Up churning out tee shirts faster than Tottenham are reporting injured players it's no surprise that after 'arry's defining catchphrase and Bale's decimation of Inter we're now treated to yet another wonder of fabric for the style concious mods amongst you: I Haart van der Vaart.

It's lovely. A bit like Rafa's wife Sylvie.

Just putting it out there.

When it really isn't more important

guestblog by Chris King

I was planning on writing something witty about the worst Spurs XI of my era.

I’d spoken to a few mates, asking them for the players that really struck them as being so bad – that they were the sort of acquisitions that you’d debate against ever really being Spurs players.

It could even be argued that writing down your worst XI is actually easier than trying to hand pick a team of Spurs legends – limiting your choice to a simple 4-4-2 formation.

And then Dean Richards died. And then the wittiness died with him.

When Richards joined Spurs, he did so for a fee that was then the highest for a non-capped player. He was the epitome of everything that was wrong about the Hoddle management era – a lot of promise, but ultimately failing to deliver.

When trying to plan the piece – for we bloggers do occasionally put a little thought in to the words we write – I put in “worst Spurs players” in to a search engine, and Richards’ name bounced around on more than one occasion. Some defended him, others questioned his fee; a fair amount did agree he was below par - whilst others gave him the benefit of the doubt due to his prolonged injury situation.

What I took from it all was that, and forgive the lazy pun here – he simply failed to earn his spurs. The fee went against him, the fact he only managed 73 games in four seasons went against him – the fact he retired for reasons that simply weren’t concrete went against him.

Yet, what Richards really suffered from was the fact that most of us expected more from him. There are countless Spurs players that were abject, hopeless – simply not Spurs players. Yet we half accepted them for their failings, and would happily buy them a pint should they ever wander in to our local pubs.

We give nicknames like the “Ginger Pele” to our bad players. We accept that some might simply have been signed to boost sales of shirts in the Far East market – we even embrace very average players who simply gave their all. There were periods when we expected too much – most of our worst players seem to come from the 1990s – there were other times when we just simply accepted what we had. Yet know one, when picking their worst Spurs XI, ever seems to agree that they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Managers buy players based on a whole host of reasons. Usually it’s if someone has a good game against us, or a scout sees something no one else can – or DML has a highlights reel from Revisita la Liga. There are then a myriad of reasons why players fail to make the grade – to earn their Spurs. Yet the vitriol aimed at them is more often than not misplaced; over the top and not really becoming of fans that will stand up because they hate another team – then slag off their own players when another under-par performance is registered on the pitch.

Dean Richards dying doesn’t reverse his time at the club, but it does seem to have made a few people tweet or text their RIPs and condolences not long after their original view of his time in the side. Is in death, really the only time when we will forgive a player for their sins on the pitch?

There is another player who “we” are all supposed to hate. A player who accepted his 30 pieces of silver to travel, not too far down the Seven Sisters road – in the desperate hope that they may boost their career with a triumph or two. I wonder if, in death, he will be viewed differently – if all the bad Spurs players will be viewed differently when they finally pass away. For you can be sure that the club will wheel out the black armband – and a token minutes silence will fall upon the ground, followed by the customary round of applause to mark their passing – but will you be able to remember the last time you applauded their actual passing, or tackling, shooting, heading etc.

If Dean Richards sits in your worst Spurs XI of all time, does his death change that? Has the sad news that a 36 year old has been taken from us far too early in life, meant you’ve slotted another central defender in, in his place?

Football fans are a cruel bunch. The argument is that if you pay good money, you have the right to pass judgement in what ever way you want – at which ever player is the target of your abuse this time around. But when an ex-player dies, who is only a year older than the person writing this piece – it makes it all seem so pointless; futile, not really worth debating.

Our worst Spurs XI is the side that lost to Blackpool. Our best Spurs XI will be the side that wins our next league or UEFA Champions League game – that’s how football should be viewed. Dean Richards was never going to reach such heights, but was it really his fault – or was he just an unfortunate victim of a Spurs era that made average players look bad?

Someone once said that football was more important than life and death. But then he at least lived to the ripe old age of 68. When you die at 36, having failed to beat a long term illness that took away your dreams, your hopes, your life and than handed you an early death – football must seem ultimately pointless to the people you’ve left behind.

Dean Richards will be warmly remembered by both Spurs and Wolves fans when we meet next week. Very few will talk about how bad he was for us, or how much he cost – all they will do is simply give up a minute of their lives to think what a travesty it is that someone in the 21^st Century is still able to die at the tender age of 36.

Then, when the whistle goes – he will be nothing more than a passing memory to both sets of fans who desperately want three points from the match.

What a waste. What a callous way to view a life.



Dean Richards

Only thirty-six, no age to go. Much maligned during his stint at Spurs thanks to that hefty transfer fee (no fault of his own) and the injuries but the lad always conducted himself like a gentlemen on and off the pitch. Wanted him to succeed for Spurs, but wasn't to be. Equally sad that he had to retire early. And now this.

RIP fella

Anyone for a goal?

Is it safe to come out now? Everyone recovered from the debacle at Blackpool? No irony lost on me as I was ravaged and harassed much like our backline was. Rather illness than DJ Campbell witnessed me waste away (I lost 7 pounds). Offside indeed. Arguably a more damaging week for Spurs losing three points that cannot be recovered. I can at least eat a couple of doner kebabs and apply the lost weight in ample time.

What lessons can we take from the defeat? Other than the routine complaints that our forwards are not up to scratch?

1) Our forwards are not up to scratch.
2) Aided by the naivety of pushing forwards in numbers and allowing us to be punished on the counter.

On another day we might have scored a bundle. Oh for that other day.

JD hasn’t been on form for what seems like forever. Perhaps since the 9-1. Injuries aside, he has now taken an almost Pavlyuchenkoesque aura with his under-performing.  

“He’s only just back in the side”
“Needs to rediscover his touch”
“Trying too hard”
“Thinking too much instead of being instinctive”
“Lashing it when he should place it, placing it when he should be lashing it”

etc

In his defence some of his performances have been selfless in terms of sacrificing traditional goal-hanging virtues for more workman like defensive-forward qualities with JD running back into midfield, working the channels and generally doing all the donkey work with movement and pulling defenders away that many would over look because there’s no glam or end product. In these games you could also look towards the lack of creativity in supplying options to the forwards to strike at goal.

Such is the complexities of the current Spurs side that we’re almost performing to paradoxical levels week in week out.

We have spirit and guile and tenacity and most importantly we have team unity and belief (well, apart from Alan Hutton who is apparently in Goa with some old bloke with a white beard claiming to be Lord Lucan). We also have genuine balls deep world class players. In fact, in some ways we have the ilk of player(s) that transcends the accepted quality we usually enjoy at the Lane. We have players who are wonderfully talented as individuals but work majestically well as part of the team – with no determent for their inclusion. The paradox is, us sitting in fourth, could have been third, with hardly a reliable forward to be found. Ours can be easily located in Dubai.

I’d say ‘Crouch’ but I’d be shot down for mouthing it. But at least he tucks into his continentals whilst others choke on their full English. Although, I guess, he also chokes on his English. All a bit over-cooked then.

The only consistency has been the excuses we’ve all discussed post-match as reasons for our failures to see our midfield and attack combine to score goals (rather than goals being scored from midfield).

Apparently, it’s because of van der Vaart. When he plays everything goes through him (via Luka). Hence why it works with Crouch up top as a foil to the movement and endeavour of the Dutch maestro. If he’s missing, we fall back to a more traditional 442 set up. And we make hard work of it when we do. For example, the 3-1 loss to the Tangerines.

It’s pretty obvious stuff. We need something, someone special at Spurs. A player at the same level of a Modric or a van der Vaart. A forward, robust and intelligent who can play it on the ground and isn’t too shabby in the air. Some who can also link up play and allow others to flourish. Equally so, if there is no Drogba out there available then all we need to do is find a Lineker. No wonder we fail at each transfer window, eh?

Nothing new here, hardly a revelation. But all is not lost.

The paradox still has us in the top four with only a couple of recent gut wrenching defeats in the league that have seen us falter.

We have a striker who doesn’t score much, other than in Europe, but does assist.
We have a striker who has forgotten how to score.
We have a striker who seems to perform better as an impact player and can finish the ridiculously sublime but not the ordinary.

In fact, all three of our forwards are probably more suited as Plan B’s from the bench. But we still have to make do with what we have. We have no choice. Nothing we can do about wishful potential signings either. Whether it’s one up front or two, we’ve only got three to choose from.

I know that it’s all very dependent on the availability of vdV in how we line-up and from one game to the next and Harry likes to swap and change, but it’s time now to stick and pray. I don’t just mean with the forwards, but in other areas.

We need cohesiveness from one game to the next. Play the best players in their best positions and if they’re on-form let them retain their place. Sure, tactical reshuffles are a necessity for certain games (Milan) but if we want the midfield to link up with our rouge strike-force then a particular line-up needs to retain its shape. Appreciate squad rotation for freshness and injured players has to be accounted for. But sometimes I don't grasp the reasons for the shuffles. But then I'm just a fan not a coach.

It’s not ideal all this. If you have an in-form striker, someone you have faith in who you can stick up front and you know he’ll give you not just 100% but a little bit of composure too...you wouldn’t complain. Even the best have off days and you’d accept that. What’s frustrating is we’ve seen little in the way of movement in terms of improvements from any of our players other than say Crouch who does impress in those European one-offs.

Pav has never been in the zone. Always fleeting on the edge.
Defoe is a confidence player, scores in bursts, and when he doesn’t is maligned for offering little else.
Crouch is hardly prolific, great foil for vdV or an in form Defoe. But can’t be relied on to notch up the goals.

You can’t be too shocked that were not producing the goods. But even with this motley crue, we’re still someone how in the hunt. Thanks to the strengths of our midfield and the fact that we don’t actually lose that many, so our defence must be doing equally good. That’s the defence that also never remains the same from one week to the next.

We need to be better to consolidate. We have to in order to remain in the fight. To suggest we can’t is the type of pessimistic hoodoo we can do without. Last season we had key midfielders missing. We got on with it.

We’re stuck with the intangible again. So based on blind faith I’m placing hope on our trequartista threesome simply because...we have absolutely nothing else to place our hopes on.

Zonal marking, eat your heart out.

Anyone for a t-shirt?

Entrepreneurial webcomic illustrator/blogger/founder of the Studs Up empire (and all round nice guy) Chris Toy has followed up from his simplistically joyful football culture tee ‘2 points, 8 games, 1 hero’ and ‘Taxi for Maicon’ shirts with another essential must-have.

Oh yeah.

You know you want to.

Well that wasn't how I expected things to pan out

War cry back in your box. We've got the hiccups again, although by all accounts the performance illustrated that lady luck will look the other way if there isn't a world class forward up top to serenade her. Didn't peel the tangerines. Got three chucked hard and painfully to our mid drift.

How many clear cut chances did we have? A lot. Lack of defending and naivety in pushing up in numbers (come on Spurs, we know we're more than capable of being patient and mature) allowed for the sucker punches that ended any possibility of a win whilst a reconstruction of the Alamo played out the other end. So I'm told, via text messages and a brief phone call.

I was (yesterday late afternoon/all evening/all night) experiencing my own misery, on my death bed with a virus so potent, you could have stuck it in Lilywhite in a forward position and watched the opposition tremble with the runs. On my death bed indeed. Should have known something was wrong when I woke up to find Harry Redknapp alongside me.

Gone a bit pear-shaped

I guess I need to admit defeat. The only way is the hard way is the Tottenham way. To think we can make it easier for ourselves was/is an incorrect assumption that simply can not co-exist in this particular universe. We function best when obstacles (self-made usually) remain directly ahead of us. When a miracle is required.

We've had a great set of results, and it's come to an abrupt end. It wont matter if we bounce back in the next game. We're likely to go on another run. At least, you hope we will. That's what happened after the Everton loss. Another defeat (following a defeat) and it suddenly all becomes that much harder. At some point it will be a loss too many. But something tells me we'll be fine.

Faith. Doesn't tend to disappoint. Our players on the other hand. But hey, just a bad day at the office, right? Right?

So, over to you now. This is a DIY match report. It will be easy to knee-jerk so I'm hoping you won't. But then I'm sure some of you will. Looking forward to reading your write-ups, player ratings and conclusions when I next get out of bed.

"Tottenham!"

Simply put; beat Blackpool, finish Top Four.

Drama.

Last season, on a number of occasions, we dropped points but never lost sight of the target. It still took a monumental effort to take us into that must win game at Eastlands, makers of our own destiny if we chose to dare. Which we did. This season the trend has been one surrounding the quality of our form, and that we have yet to truly blossom into a free-flowing rampant goal-getting beast humping our way through the herd never asking for phone numbers or bothering with breakfast. But neither has anyone else. Not a b*stard to be had.

To continue to play this shy game of step aside that everyone seems to be partaking in remains one of great risk.

There is something very Spursesque about us doing it the hard way, written off by our own as well as the press. It's the fuel we consumed during the drive through the 2010 season. You half sort of give up hope because it's easy(ier) to prepare for dejection than it is to build yourself up for an even bigger fall because the height will hurt you even more if said hopes tumble. And climbing that ladder is for some, too much to cope with.

Been there, done it, didn't fall down. We've even moved onto a taller building. Ladder is fairly stern too.

Someone once said something about aiming high and something about an echo. Words mean little without action. We lived the words through our actions which is why, even if it's hardly 'glory' to finish fourth it was a necessary step that had to be fought for and celebrated when achieved.

Plenty believed our season was over at least four or fives times. Just when I thought I was out...they pull me back in. Agony, followed by glee, followed by agony. Would rather this time there was no debate around being anything but in.

Mind your step on the ladder.

Don't care if it's ugly, pretty or lucky. We have to win at Blackpool. I wont go as far as suggesting it would kill any ambitions we have to reclaim a Champions League position. Simply because of how this season has panned out and with the end in sight, nobody has yet to take a stranglehold with their consistency.

Yet. The key word. The same tired excuse to protect the dream.

It's time for us step it up and let others concern themselves with the catching up stuff. The less pressure we have on retaining a top 4 (screw it) a top 3 position as the weeks fly past the better. Our form is actually very good. We've been consistent, accumulating a healthy tally of points. What's required is avoidance of those occasional blips, hiccups that can cause hope to rise in others.

Harry claims (tonight) it's as big as the Milan game. It's not, but it is. It's the most important game we're going to be involved in this evening.

Of course it's frigging important.

What we've achieved in Europe has been nothing short of, well, Tottenham. Our unique brand of swash buckle, heart in mouth comebacks and unexpected (and devastating and patient) dismantling jobs - we've done it all. And nobody can pretend we've not made an impact on the continent. We have proven, without a shadow of a doubt, that we can compete at the very top level. Our learning curve has been one of fizzy refreshment in the usually bland and stale group games and maturity (thus far) in the knock-out stage. Perhaps next season we'd have to adapt further as we'll no longer be unknown entity. If there is a next season.

Blackpool and Wolves away, on paper, easy. In reality, hardly. We all know how the Wanderers have faired this season against the 'big' sides. And we all know how tireless and spirited Blackpool can be. But in paying respect, there's an admittance of the possibility of defeat.

We've yet to cement ourselves as a side that will finish top 4 season in season out. The landscape of the Prem might not allow another monopoly to exist. Others are expected to awake (Chelsea) and take (Man City) what is suggested to be rightfully there's based on the norm and money spent.

And what do I want? All I care for is the monopoly of one. The Tottenham paradox. Even the critics who were scoffing a season and a half ago are now drowning themselves in Lilywhite drenched plaudits. Bizarre but acceptable. But not enough, more is needed. The very thought of defeat pains me. Not that long ago it was almost a bi-weekly emotion. Spent most of the 1990s accepting its inevitability.

And in the present we've been written off more times than I care to count but now expectancy weighs down on us. Time for us all to just admit that we are now a very good side and that when hiccups are suffered, they're just that. And not throw-backs to a disease that still might plague us. We don't choke. We just sometimes, individually or collectively under perform. Like the vast majority of sides. Which is why we have a Spanish Inquisition when it happens.

No under performing tonight please. Let's under perform when we play West Ham and only beat them by three clear goals instead of five.

I know what you're thinking. It's only Blackpool away, get a grip of yourself you drama queen.

It's bread and butter and we need to eat it up. If we're going to truly elevate ourselves onto that next level of competitiveness then we need to show reinforced tenacity, as displayed in the last couple of Prem outings. Every game is a must win, right? But not every game is winnable and there are some games where less than three points (that being quite obviously a draw) is acceptable in the grand scheme of thirty eight games.

I've used that 'excuse' to defend my belief we would finish fourth last season. I've used it once or twice this season. Faith and all. I'm scrapping it for the purpose of our next two games.

This time, I'd rather not do it the hard way. Even if the hard way is the Tottenham way. Even if the hard way is more nail biting, exciting and entices that never say die attitude that makes us perform on an electric level of intensity that can sometimes give ample juice to the adrenalin that drives us beyond limited expectations*. And breathe.

*Best illustrated by the run-in last season which was and still is 'special'.

Belief was the key last time. Momentum, the buzz word for the present. Our progression, evolution - it doesn't stagnate. It hiccups, it's an annoyance, we down a glass of water, it sometimes works, we move on. Not always solving it the same way the next time it happens. But we don't look back. And we always move on.

We are spirited and driven. The culture of comfort at the Lane is long gone and we have players who play for the team, for each other and for the club. Hungry for success. Wanting to better themselves.

We might still lack a cutting edge and perhaps (arguably) there remains doubts on the consistency and delivery of Harry Redknapp's astuteness with tactics. We have key players missing. But yet here we are. In amongst it domestically and swaggering continentally.

Time to prove we can switch on for those wet wintry mid-week games as well as the high profile glamour ties (equally wet). Not just tonight, but Wolves in the next away game too. I have no more nails to bite and my heart is whimpering from the relentless emotional pulls.

The metamorphosis from plucky lucky pretenders to sustained genuine gritty yet silky contenders has to start somewhere.

This rallying war cry is probably going to fall on deaf ears, what with Redknapp citing 'miracle' for us to finish in the top four again. Backs to walls, bare bones. It's how he works his magic. Perhaps the hard way is the only way and I need to stand down from painting myself navy blue and white and screaming at the dodgy internet stream of the match like Mel Gibson in Braveheart. He failed (William Wallace) in the end. Aimed very high. However, even in his failure there was an echo of glory.

Hanged, disembowelled, drawn and quartered. Let it be the ones in Orange not the ones in Lilywhite.

Hiccups? Hold your breath.

Either way, I'm still going to need a heart transplant.

 

Not Tonight Sandra, I've Got A Headache

guestblog by chrisman

Sandra Redknapp is going to have a lot of time to catch up on her knitting over the next few
nights, because her husband Harry has a case of what's commonly known as 'selection headache'. Usually he's a sexual tyrant, but recent events have given him a bit of a 'narky miff' and left him unable to 'smash it' with any real conviction.

Now that we've all calmed down and had a chance to think about Tuesday's Triple Epic-Burger, a few things are becoming clear. One fact, lost in the ethereal San Siro mist, was that it was our first away win in this season's Champions League. Actually, it was only our second away win in the competition, ever (the other being over Feyenoord in 1962-63).

More importantly, the win was based on the defensive stability that served us so well in reaching the Promised Land in the first place. These may not seem like things that would normally give you a headache, but when Harry starts thinking about why we were suddenly so solid, he might come to some troubling conclusions.

So what was different from the away days of Bremen, Enschede and Milan last year? The obvious answer is that the Gallas-Dawson axis is now in full effect. But that doesn't explain the often-frantic defending and lack of shape and discipline against Sunderland, Blackburn and Everton (to name a few). Nor does it explain it's absence in Milan on Tuesday.

Sure, the players raised their performance levels for the big one, but if there is one thing you can't really accuse Spurs of these days, it's lack of effort in the 'smaller' games. The commitment is there. But the stability of last year is not. King has been a big miss, but we have a good replacement in Gallas. Huddlestone's absence has been more keenly felt, simply because no one has been able to adequately fill his shoes. Until now.

Sandro, please step forward. You are the man to pick up the gauntlet laid down by Big T's vastly-underestimated defensive displays. People tend to throw around, in a willy-nilly manner, all kinds of comments about Tom's defensive abilities, or lack of them. 'He's slow, lumbering, lazy, a big girl's blouse'. Well willy this nilly - he's a bloody good defender.

We sometimes forget that he started life as a centre half. He has an ingrained defensive nous that other midfielders will never have. He instinctively knows where the centre-half wants him to be. He knows how and where an attack is going to develop. He knows when to tackle and when to jockey. And as well as Wilson and JJ have played at times this season, neither of them will ever have any of these abilities. Physically, they have it all. Technically, they are excellent. Mentally, they lack that extra couple of percent of discipline, concentration and decisiveness that separates very good players from great ones.

JJ and Wilson are both at their best when they are running, and using their fantastic pace and athleticism. But when your main role should be as a shield to the back 4, it's often best to restrict your movement to a few square yards. To really work effectively as a unit with your 2 centre-backs, you have to be close to them and move with them. JJ and Wilson are too erratic and spasmodic with their positioning and movement. Both could potentially work well in a 2 or 3 man midfield, but with someone to sweep up behind them and allow them to maraud around the pitch.

Sandro on the other hand is at his happiest about 5 yards in front of the centre-backs, ready to make a challenge outside or clearance inside the box. When people talk about the Makelele role, they usually associate it with passing and starting attacks. What they often underestimate is the selfless and disciplined nature of the role. Rarely should you pass the halfway line (an attitude people criticize Big T for having). Even the full backs can get forward more. Sandro loves doing that grimy, filthy defensive work.

Against AC Milan, with Sandro match-fit, bedded-in and playing well, we comfortably repelled their attacks. Ok, there were a couple of headers, but we followed the tried and tested template of last season - sit back, let the defenders defend, and hit them on the break. Apart from the 2 headers, Gomes was untroubled. We kept them at arms length on the edge of the box. Calm, controlled, clinical. The compact triangle of CBs and DM could not be penetrated by the trio of Ibra, Robinho and Pato.

So where from here? The easy answer is 'straight ahead', with a simple tweak of swapping Palacios for Modric. But will Harry be willing to effectively have Sandro do a double-leapfrog over Wilson and JJ? Or will he be a bit sly, and with a nod to pragmatism 'rest' van der Vaart and go with JJ or Wilson in the middle with Modric, and Sandro behind?

In reality, if we're only playing 1 up top, van der Vaart needs to be in the team - if fit. That leaves 1 space in the midfield alongside Modric and van der Vaart, and considering  you want the magical pair to have as much freedom as possible, it makes sense to play a disciplined, selfless player with them. That player is Sandro. There are, however, other options....

One idea I'm sure Harry has toyed with is playing van der Vaart in a wider role. Van der Vaart excels most when he has space and time, and he doesn't always find that when playing in the congested central area with big bruising PL players. So moving him to a wider starting position may give him more room to pick up the ball and use that murderous left foot. He played wide right in some games earlier in the season and it worked. It could easily work again.

Another positive for this formation is that Lennon is apparently pretty comfortable switching flanks and cutting inside with his dribbling. So you get 2 great creators out wide, and 3 solid men in the middle (Sandro, Modric, JJ/Wilson). Essentially all you are doing is swapping Pienaar for JJ or Wilson, and in doing so are giving yourselves more speed and power in the middle to give your match-winners more freedom to win matches.

Despite all of this, I'm sure it's also going to be hard for Harry to resist the temptation to re-unite Crouch and Defoe up front. Blackpool will obviously come forward and leave us lots of space. Defoe could bag a couple and get his confidence back in time for the run-in. But will loading the strikers and leaving the midfield relatively bare (Lennon-Sandro-Modric-VDV) play right into Blackpool's hands?

The pragmatist in Harry surely will not allow him to be so gung-ho, and that means dropping one of the seemingly undroppable trio of Modric, Lennon and van der Vaart. All logic therefore points towards a 5-man midfield, but then again Harry's feelings for the Defoe-Crouch partnership have always been about more than mere logic. It's just something he feels comfortable with. But on recent performances, both from the team and Defoe individually, it seems the days of the 4-4-2 may be numbered, especially away from home. And since the next 2 games are indeed away from home, Harry is going to have to make some tough, emotional choices.

Sandro, Palacios, Jenas, Modric, Pienaar, Kranjcar, Lennon, VDV (edit: not so fit). That's 8 fit and on-form midfielders. Good luck Harry, and Sandra...call me.

Five minute update

Had to take the day off work. Not spent that much time on-line other than fleeting looks here and there. I've been dealing with projectile vomiting and diarrhoea. Baby isn't well, bless her. And having projectile vomited myself listening to the verbal diarrhoea of the resident workplace Arsenal fans yesterday, I thought it best to remain home today and sing Spurs lullabies to my daughter. And whilst she sleeps off the virus spend the time constructively, removing items of ghastly clothing from her drawers, as the missus still doesn't quite grasp the concept of 'never red'.

No Spurs game this weekend, thanks to the capitulation at Fulham that appears to have sent Alan Hutton into exile. If you're wondering, he's currently on a remote island with no means of escape punching in numbers every 108 minutes.

Talking of the Cup, good luck to Harry Kane and co over at Brisbane Road. There's a match going on there that our loaned trio are involved in. Apparently.

Blackpool up next for us. And I guess its all eyes on the fabled European Hangover. Something we've hardly suffered from and shouldn't really look to fall back on it as an excuse considering the 'rest' we have until we play them.

Sandro and Palacios in the middle again? Not for this game. Attack, relentlessly attack. No need for clever, cultured and canny dismantling here. Look to score more than them, although it would be equally mature to go there and win 1-0 or 2-0. Doubt we'll keep a clean sheet, simply because of the type of tempo the game will be played at. And we're going to concede from a set-piece, right? Ian Holloway's men fighting for the lives. Pound for pound, we need to show our quality and out box them. Knock-out punch. Although if we do happen to underestimate their plucky resistance, then happy to slug it out to remain in the top four. Make the ones looking up at us sweat a little more.

Back to the midweek win, at this rate a DVD box-set of our CL adventures could probably go towards funding a viable version of the NDP. Or perhaps we could build one or two of the new stands out of unsold copies of The Opus and save on cost. You'll have noticed the quiet removal of all the Northumberland rhetoric from the official site. Northumberland what you say? I don't know. Never happened, did it?

At least the 'S' word has crawled back into it's spacious cave in East London. I can't even recall a single sound bite from Brady in the past week or so. Happy days. However, have had one or two Hammers iron out an opinion in my direction.

"We're moving into a 60k all seater", they smugly tell me.

I guess they're make up the numbers by inciting Orient fans from across the road. Perhaps they could even look to start the migration a little early, get them in the mood. All those unsold tickets and half-season tickets, no need for empty seats at Upton Park. Not while there's Prem football on offer.

Elsewhere:

Gattuso 'afters' continue to dominate most of the post-Milan chat. Joe Jordan denies he said anything racist to provoke the hairy Italian. Still loving the footage of him punching the pitch. No, hold up, you've mis-read that. I'm not suggesting Jordan punched Gattuso. Although I'm not alone in thinking the Milan captain behaved like a female dog.

Ibra apparently lifted Bassong up with one arm in the tunnel in more post-match face-offs. Too hot to handle off the pitch. In Dawson's back pocket on it.

Champions League final prices have been released. £26 admin charge on tickets that will range from £150 - £300. Doubled the prices of last seasons final. Football: The peoples game. UEFA deny rumours that a large Coke will cost £79.

Connor Wickham. He scored a hat-trick. In the Championship. Tag him with a £15M price and link him with Tottenham. Don't shoot the messenger but I reckon there's a probability of him joining. I'll confirm the percentage after the press conference for the club he signs for towards the start of next season.

More BAE positivity. Waiting on Hansen to review his opinions. Heads up, interview on this weeks Football Focus with the coolest man in the game (Ekotto, not Alan).

Bale's return. His proper return. Meant to be AC Milan at home. I just wet myself. The good type of wet. The Italians will no doubt come with a game plan to score an early goal. No need for us to contain and counter. Width with Lennon and Bale. Trickery with Luka. Leadership with vdV. Take the game to them. No fear. Something we should make them regret after their reluctance to go for our jugular in the first leg. They are no mugs, even though they behaved like mugs at the San Siro. We should take nothing for granted. Attack them as if we're the ones losing one nil on aggregate.

Corluka. Not as bad as it looked when he was stretched off. Back in training soon. Someone not back in the side any time soon is Huddlestone. Apparently, not fit to run yet. Massive shame.

Woodgate. Out injured (shock horror) after his cameo. As if the footballing Gods were ever going to allow us to have another CB available for selection.

And finally, Jenas has tweeted. Got a white Bentley for his birthday. Giving 'em away, those Bentleys. Just giving 'em away.

Peace. Out.

Facebook discussion
Twitter musings

We made the Italians cry

After watching this, you'll never be able to sit back and enjoy Gillette Soccer Saturday again, simply because it pales in comparison. Genius television. Even though I don't understand a word of Italian. Then again, you don't need to.

I dare you not to find this entertaining. Especially when Spurs score and when Ibra's is disallowed. If you don't have time to watch it all, forward to the 4:40 mark and then the 7:00 mark.

Enjoy.

To Dare is to do 'em

Meelan 0 Tottenham 1

Football at the best of times is unpredictable. Expect the unexpected and such. It’s mostly unpredictable when attempting to assess how a game might pan out based on, well, based on form and selection and tactics and formation – which all stem from plenty of pre-match discussion in the build up to kick-off.

Myself and quite a few of you made a series of assumptions, much like we always do before a game. In this case, it’s AC Milan away and we’ve got a long list of missing players. I won’t talk about you here and instead concentrate for a moment on my preview of the game for a moment. Rather than attempt a zonal marking styled deep thinking analysis, I just opted for the subtle war cry based on the power of belief, emotion. You know, the fluffy stuff. With some controlled attacking football and plenty of heart and tenacity. It’s the easy way to write up a preview. Just ask and hope that the team stand strong together and give it some.

I was naive with my predicted starting eleven but then I hardly care for my foolishness. Because Harry Redknapp, that’s tactically astute Harry Redknapp, got it completely on the money, so much so that perhaps some of the non-believers will nod a gentle acknowledgement in his direction as a way of a thank you for leading the team out in the San Siro in possibly the most unexpected of circumstances in terms of performance and end result. Mature, disciplined and unequivocally focused from start to finish. What’s that? Magnificent? Go on then, and throw me a superb and a great to go with it.

Perhaps part of the misconception pre-match was spending too much time on those assumptions made about how the game would play out. A lot was made of Milan and their defensive and offensive qualities in their domestic campaign. Plenty of superlatives were made of their forwards and their experienced Champions League seasoned performers. Whilst most of us took extracted moments of indecisiveness and weakness from our league games and continued agendas against players we either dislike or don’t rate simply because of inconsistency and frustration back in the bread and butter of the Prem.

Equally so, many critics and neutrals cited our swashbuckling ‘we’re gonna score one more than you’ mantra from the group games and the additional possibility of a re-occurrence of stage fright.

So many potentials. Which is why I kept it simple before the game. Show some heart and some intent without playing over elaborate football that would leave us open to punishment.

‘Would still rather get knocked out giving it a right proper go than conceding defeat by allowing fear to consume us’

What we did instead, and kudos to Harry, is set the team up to be highly competitive in the middle – the foundation to build on for the rest of the side to retain the ball, work tirelessly off it to regain it when lost and endeavour to push into forward positions to possibly carve out an opportunity.

I’m not going to be critical at all at the lack of massive chances/shots on the Milan goal. Let’s just remember nobody gave us a chance of winning, most of us thought we’ve do good to lose 2-1. The application and delivery of the team and instructions the gaffer gave them is testament to what we can achieve when we are completely focused – no matter who is missing.

Doesn’t matter if one of the assumptions made was over-rating the Italians or even under-estimating Harry. This was no fluke 94 minutes of football. This was a set of players proving to themselves, to us, to everybody that they compete at the very top level. I’m sure if we were full strength and Milan had their best side, we’d have witnessed an absolute humdinger. Instead, we got a top class display of character and concentration, frustrating the home side to the point of petulance (go on then Gattuso, have a go if you think you’re hard enough, Jordan eats hairy cavemen for breakfast, turns his milk hairy) and half-chances and cheating.

Tottenham, going all weak at the knees from fear when bullied by Young Boys to standing tall (in one case that extra bit taller) and executing a clinical whack to the back of the head of one of the dons of the European family.

How did we achieve it?

Gomes between the sticks. No dramatics. Just acrobatics. Two brilliant saves, the first game-saving. Did nothing wrong. When this Brazilian is on this type of form you’d let him sleep with your...well, you probably wouldn’t but it’s the thought that counts.

Corluka and BAE both linking up superbly with Lennon and Pienaar down the flanks. Charlie a victim of former scum, always scum Flamini. How he wasn’t sent off for his two-footed tackle is beyond most of us. Big of him to apologise post-game. Wondering how many flowers he would have had to bring to the hospital bed of Corluka if he had broken his leg. Hoping it’s not too serious, he’s (Charlie) a class act and he’s about 1000 times more reliable at the back than Hutton.

Benny was also a class act, as he’s been all season long. Doesn’t care about football, hey? Wish players cared as little as he did. 21 mis-placed passes apparently. Best drop him to the bench then.

Dawson and Gallas were also bang on it. It’s strange how leading up to this game Daws seemed out of sorts, erratic. Both were solid and without error, always in the right place to tidy-up. The whole backline suffocated the Zlatan Zeppelin, burning the big balloon of hot air to the ground. Hardly any time for Ibra, Robinho and the harassed (mostly by Wilson) Seedorf to play clever intricate balls. And even though Pato introduced an improved dimension to Milan’s play in the second half, it still wasn’t enough to generate any ilk of nerves and knee-jerks.

Sandro. Palacios. Our two defensive midfielders in the middle tirelessly biting at ankles. Wilson perhaps over enthusiastic at times and still occasionally too slow to move the ball on when in possession – but enough negatives. His first half performance was part of the catalyst that saw us nullify any threat. Milan’s midfield had no time to think or create and simply failed to take a stranglehold allowing us to dictate our own comfort. Talk about taking responsibility. Well done.

The selection of Sandro was a master-stroke. Pre-match (assumptions) you wondered if it was fair, the baptism of fire. Some doubt lingered, to do with playing him alongside Wilson. It worked perfectly. He’s always struck me as a player that remains unfazed and mentally strong. Just off the Prem pace at times as he finds his feet in England, but in this clash – top drawer. Showed glimpses of the future. Positioning and movement, quick on his feet when using his brain and his tackle (ooh). Just ace. He's going to be a beast. But the type of beast that never looks he's going to break sweat beasting it. Well done Spurs scouts...you do exist afterall.

Outlet of Lennon on the wing and Pienaar on the opposite flank chasing down balls as well as aiding when moving it forward. Azza (with no Bale) was always going to be key to crafting out a chance - what with us set-up with just the two dimensions (Lennon, on the flank, Crouch up top with his head). Got into some great positions, not always the best cross and sometimes not used and found when perhaps his team mates should have looked towards him to pass. But how simple and cool and calm was the only pass that mattered, off the feet of Aaron to the feet of Crouch?

Pienaar, pre-match, spoke about European football being just like a game of chess, and once more, some of us scoffed that this would mean Harry would perhaps look to sit back, defend, soak it up and counter. Not quite sit back and defend with complete lack of ambition, but counter we did – and it was worthy of bishop taking queen, chess board knocked to ground with the opposing player trying to head butt the victor.

van der Vaart, intelligent on the ball, off it, led by example. This guy cost £8M for the love of God, we should write up a cheque to Madrid for an extra £25M because the guilt must be killing us. Cracking effort with the chip, just sublime, just not quite perfect for what would have been the ultimate. What was so brilliant about his role, his responsibility out there, was his link-up play was practically seamless when he left the field of play to be replaced by Modric.

Both players, obviously not 100%, yet both imperious to making it tick, what with the overwhelming physicality of our DM’s allowing pockets of freedom to roam. Luka, armed with remote control (the ball has an electronic chip in it) hardly ever losing possession, dinking here there and everywhere – always looking for a touch and a pass, always making sure we didn’t stagnate and remain motionless. Earlier in the game, especially the first half, I kept thinking had he started I would not have been anywhere near being nervous. The game was so made for him to dictate. It was just good to have him back and no surprise he was involved in the goal.

Sandro interception, Modric releasing Lennon, Lennon running full pelt, finding Crouch, superb finish. 0-1. Bask in a classic counter-attack. What I thought we couldn't do, we did. Soak it up, hit 'em on the break.

And what of Mr Majorly Maligned? Did not expect him to be fit (I guess that was the closet thing to kidology we got pre-match), possibly wasn’t completely in prime condition (sorry if I missed it but I’m guessing he took injections to play?) showed us that on the right stage and most definitely in Europe’s elite competition, he is imperative to how we line-up. It just works. Doesn’t matter how or why, it just does. Diagonal balls to his head (not that he got many of them thanks to the panic marking), the flick-ons, the chest downs and holding up of the ball, his touch and his composure when handed the golden opportunity for that all important away goal. Yet another player who did not stop working till the final whistle. Also did well to keep the dog on its leash. Plenty of bark, no bite. And no problem for Peter to laugh off.

They all worked their socks off. What topped it all off was Woodgate coming on (still having to rewind and re-watch...it’s him, it’s not CGI, I’m certain of it). Niko also impressive when taking to the field.

All of it, the way the script unravelled itself, just perfectly. Selection, temperament, tempo and belief. Confidence simply oozed.

Sure, we had one or two heart in mouth moments, great call at the death from the assistants who disallowed the Ibra bicycle kick. Would have been tragic to draw, even though that would have been more than acceptable before kick-off.

The first half – one of the best 45 minutes I’ve seen in terms of how we conducted ourselves. Owning their patch and dominant in application.

The second half – Milan asked more questions, but just fumbled and stuttered as they attempted to make a statement. Spurs making paper aeroplanes out of the crumbled paper-thin attempts. And on the occasions they did manage to be concise and to the point, we (Gomes especially) countered it with a sterling comeback, faltering any chance of a sustained argument.

Meelan, not having Pirlo in there was very much detrimental to how we all expected them to perform. I guess, perhaps in some way, they were disjointed (something I would have tagged us with when witnessing Sandro and Wilson starting) and they struggled to get to grips leaving us to take the initiative. Even on the back foot we remained tight and crowded out their attacks. Gattuso summed them up. Uncertain, erratic and nervous. He's also apologised for his actions. He'll miss the return. Says he and Jordan were both talking Scottish to each other on the touchline, during their fiery incidents. What's Scots Gaelic for 'you're missing with the wrong man son'?

So, in conclusion, I wanted us to have a go. And we did, but we did so with an unexpected twist. We birthed offensive play from the sheer gritty defensive qualities we displayed from start to finish. Even if it was partly one-dimensional. It was enough to come away victorious. We did not allow anything to rattle us. Even when it got a little tasty and dirty. Although I found myself laughing at Gattuso punching the ground (if that’s meant to rile up the home support perhaps we can get one of our players to run out with a spade in the home leg and dig a hole for the Milan players to hide in).

Wasn't pure Tottenham in terms of exhilarating pulsating expansive football. But it worked. And kudos again to the gaffer for it. Milan, out-smarted. Defensively, flawless. Italy's top side contained. Clean sheet – what more can you ask for? Away goal? Got that too. Every man a hero. Would dearly like to understand the psychology behind how teams can produce football performances like this. I dare us to perform like that week in week out. We won't, but then if we continue to play like this in the CL, our adventure might yet continue into the quarters.

Professional and mature Tottenham. What happened to the 4-3's then?

English clubs have a habit of getting results in the San Siro. Looks like we've gatecrashed yet another party. Outstanding performance. This team proved on their day they can compete with anyone. No fear. Belief, it transcends individuals and players to the next level. We have to win games like last night to breed that winning mentality. The further we get into this competition the better we'll be for it. Take this attitude to the Prem please.

Our evolution continues.

As for the return leg? Harry has to make sure that the players understand this is far from over, backs to wall regardless of last night. We should play out the return leg like we're a goal down. Some of that Spurs v Inter intensity. Bale should be back. Modric and vdV might start. I expect us to revert back to a more traditional controlled attacking style, marauding down both flanks with devastating pace. Refer you again to the dismantling of Inter. That’s how we should set up to play. It’s only 1-0. And even though the likes of Ibra and Robinho flatter to deceive and tend to disappoint, both are more than capable of scoring something out of nothing. Especially as many now would pencil us the favourites to get through.

We can worry about that in three weeks time.

Football, it’s about moments. So please do stick this one in your history books. Until we meet the The Rossoneri again, go get drunk on the fumes of yet another Glory Glory night.

COYS

To Dare is to do 'em.



European dreams

guestblog by Chris King

It’s the 23^rd May. The Year is 1984.

A nine year old boy is watching his mates run around on the stage at the Curzon Cinema on Shaftesbury Avenue. His Mum leans in to him, nudging him on the arm. She asks why he is not up there playing with his mates; why he looks so serious, on this his birthday. She offers popcorn, sweets and a sip of fizzy pop, but nothing seems to wake him from his near trance.

“Come on” she says. “Don’t be sad, do you not want to see the film?”

“It’s not that Mum”

“Well, what is it then?”

“Mum. How are we going to stop Enzo Scifo?”

Some of that has been Hollywoodized for the narrative to introduce this piece, but I did spend the afternoon of my ninth birthday watching the Fox and Hounds at the Curzon. I can’t really recall much about the film, it wasn’t until I saw it on video some months later that I realised the fox…. Well, I won’t spoil it for those who haven’t seen it.

Only one memory burns bright from that day, and “If you know your history” the opening sentence to this piece will tell you everything you need to know.

It’s been all too easy to think of negative things to write about Spurs for my contributions to this site over the last month or so. I don’t get down to as many games as Spooky, so compiling match previews or reports is a bit of an ask, given that we often have to rely on the incomprehensible ‘Mers’ on Soccer Saturday, to fill in the blanks in the wilds of the North.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t change tack. To look both forwards and back; to be like a nine year old again – both anxious and giddy with emotions at the prospect of another massive European night of football for the Spurs.

"It's magnificent to be in Europe and this club - a club like Tottenham Hotspur - if we're not in Europe.... we're nothing. We’re nothing."

That quote comes directly from Bill Nicholson. He’s right. Some would say he was always right where Spurs were concerned. The year after that majestic night in 1984, we had another good run – falling agonisingly short to the eventual champions Real Madrid by the odd goal in the Quarter-Final. We’ve had some moments since then, including the Inter Milan game at home this year – but they have been all too few and far between. We’ve been hopeless in both getting in to Europe, and re-establishing our place once we get there. But it used to be all so different.

There will be people reading this that weren’t born in 1984, let alone got to see that penalty shoot out – who will remember Tony Parks the player rather than the goalkeeping coach. A player, much like Newcastle’s Steve Harper, who spent eight fairly unproductive years as back up keeper – amassing the sort of game time Gomes will do in a less than a season this term. But no one cares about that. All those that saw the game can remember is his one great game. The sight of him diving to his right, getting both hands to substitute Arnór Guðjohnsen’s penalty and pushing it out towards the west stand; reeling off with both hands in the air, before being mobbed by his team mates.

It was our third major cup success in four years (to add to the 1981 and 1982 FA Cups) and I couldn’t imagine it being any different as a Spurs fan. How wrong could I be? Thanks first to Heysel and then one poor mid-table side after another, we only managed two further appearances in Europe in the nineties – neither of which amounted to much; especially given the own goal Stephen Carr conceded in the last minute to send us out away to Kaiserslautern.

Since then we’ve had a couple of decent runs in the now defunct UEFA Cup; but the Jol era aside, it has never really felt as though we were really 100% committed to the task in hand.

That is until this season.

A terrible start to the campaign seems to have shaped our season a touch – hopeless in the opening phase of the first half away from home. But at home, in front of our fans – what a joy it has been to watch European football again at the Lane. Young boys, Twente, Internazionale and Werder Bremen - all blown away by the sort of attacking, entertaining and heart lifting football we’ve craved since those Glory, Glory nights of the 60s, 70s and 80s. We’ve played with a spirit that shows we fear no one, even during those calamitous passages of play – but do pray to whatever sporting or religious deities you hold dear, that no on dives in for a reckless challenge in our box in the opening 10 minutes tonight.

To have the chance to play AC Milan, at the Giuseppe Meazza on one of our biggest European nights since that fateful birthday back in 1984, I can’t but help paraphrase Bill Nicholson’s quote. For it is magnificent to be in Europe, and this club – a club like Tottenham Hotspur to be playing the Italian league Leader in Europe without fear proves we’re something. For even though the internet appears to have written our chances off for tonight at least, especially with the absence of key players – for once, we as fans still all seem to believe. How great is that!

So today, as I sit at work – slightly fed up, slightly distant – looking south east out of the window towards Milan I can’t but help being transported back to that cinema seat in 1984. As my mum leans in, nudges me on the arm and asks why I’ve not completed the Project Plan I should have had done by lunch time…

“Come on” she says. “Can’t you do your work?”

“It’s not that Mum.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“Mum. Let me tell you how we’re going to stop Zlatan Ibrahimovic…”