And...we're back

Is it safe to come out? International break is over, right?

Thank God.

Other than Bale and Lennon being pulled out of their squads due to 'injury' it's been a decent week having not lost anyone on a more permanent basis with the additional bonus and return of Tom Huddlestone to training. Woodgate is apparently injured again. Conspiracy theorists might tell you otherwise. Although that may simply be desperate optimism rather than kidology. Harry capable of the latter? van der Vaart did say our gaffer is like Jose. Probably meant they're both suave and sharp dressers.

But before the glamour of Madrid we play the role of visitors to bottom club Wigan. The fixture has less sex about it than an orgy hosted by eunuchs. Can we tag this with the must-win label? Goes without say, doesn't it? Back to basics here. Keep it simple, keep it traditional. 442 please. Nobody expected them to win in the game at the Lane, what with memories of the 9-1 still buzzing around our heads. Upsets still do happen and they tend to get dished out to us when we're feeling all apologetic in performance. They're bottom, but they're still fairly organised and plucky and they're fighting for their lives whilst once more (as ever) we have one eye on another game that might well distract.

Even with players rested, if we line-up up with a decent spine and attack and we don't wear t-shirts underneath the Lilywhite, we'll be just dandy. We could have decimated Blackpool a few weeks back and ended up losing 3-1. Wigan won't pose the type of threat we encountered on that particular evening. But anything resembling complacency or lack of focus from our lot will be disheartening and dangerously encouraging for them.

Momentum Spurs. It's easier to win the next game if you've won the one before and the one before that and the one before...etcetc.

Cohesive, clinical, cutting edge. Stand tall please. Show some heart.

It's every game is a cup final time. Hold onto your flat caps.

You have got to be ******* kidding me

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-london-12909326

Tottenham Hotspur are taking Olympic chiefs to court over the decision to hand the 2012 stadium to West Ham after the Games, the BBC has learned.

The Olympic Park Legacy Company (OPLC), which chose West Ham ahead of Spurs last month, confirmed Tottenham are going ahead with a judicial review.

Tottenham informed the OPLC of its decision this week, as construction on the Olympic Stadium was completed.

A judge will now review the lawfulness of the decision.

More follows.

Official club statement here. A slight twist. Looks like Levy is flirting again.

At this stage the Club has not issued any proceedings against the Olympic Park Legacy Company (the OPLC) or any other party in respect of the decision regarding the award of the Olympic Stadium. 

The Club’s lawyers have written letters to the OPLC, the Mayor of London, the Minister of Sport and the Secretary of State for Local Government and a separate letter to the London Borough of Newham raising a number of concerns with the processes which led to the award. 

The letters also requested - in the interests of transparency - for the provision of certain information concerning the processes, which the Club considers that it is entitled to. Tottenham Hotspur will determine its next step as and when it receives a response to these letters.

Just when I thought I was out...they pull me back in...

Adventures in lucid dreaming, part II

Part I here.

continued...

So how exactly did Goran Bunjevčević kill me?

I’m dreaming. A standard run of the mill dream. I’m walking along a high street whilst watching a commotion across the street. Nothing serious. An argument which then turns into a fight. But it was still nothing too serious. More comical. It looked like they were all flapping their hands at each other in the most wimpish way possible. I laughed, lost concentration momentarily and tripped over.

I fell.

But rather than allow gravity to do it’s clever pulling me down to the ground thing, I end up floating before hitting concrete with face. And for the next twenty or so yards, I continue to float (just above the ground) until repositioning myself upright and on both feet. I think to myself, ‘that was pretty cool’. And then the trigger kicks in.

‘I can fly. Just like in a dream’.

Almost there.

I look around and can’t quite place my surroundings. I’m still uncertain, even though I’ve accepted that flying isn’t possible in real life. So if this wasn't real life...?

I’ve yet to go completely lucid. I keep looking around and then look back on the street I’ve walked up from and try to and picture how I got here. How did I travel to this place? I can’t quite remember. So I attempt to think back to the last thing I was doing before being here.

I then have flashes of being at work. Travelling. Getting home. Eating. Watching tv. Then going to bed.

Bed. That’s it. I went to bed. And I can’t remember getting out of it. Which means I'm still asleep.

I'm there.

The trigger is unequivocally pulled. I’m dreaming. So I say it out loud. ‘I’m dreaming’. The surrounding area is then engulfed by Technicolor and I awake in my subconscious playground.

Now, usually when this happens, the first thing I do is look around to see if there are any fit women to harass. You’d do the exact same thing so don't you dare shake your head at me. Alas, nothing of interest that I can see, other than the skirmish which had literally snowballed into a mass ball of punches which rolled past me as it made its way up the street.

And up the street is where I decided to go.

As I made my way towards what resembled a town centre, the street curved and I’m suddenly bang in the middle of what feels like a carnival atmosphere just without the music and floats. I also notice it's now late evening. I can smell burgers cooking. The sky is a moody and a majestic red. I continue to walk through the crowds of people made up predominately by blokes.

Blokes who are all staring at me.

Nothing malicious in their glares. In fact, I’m almost being drowned in waves of smiles and comforting pats on the back. People nodding and winking at me with star-struck recognition and gentle applause. The further into the crowd I go, the more smiling which then turns into (inaudible) chanting. I can’t make out what they’re singing but it’s in my honour and it’s a good-feel vibe.

Centre of attention. Quite a rare experience because usually I prefer not to attract too much attention – unless I want hordes of people chasing after me. The crowds were no longer walking, just buzzing around outside what looked like a 1970s football ground. Old fashion boxed in stands. Plenty of wood and painted signs. Looked completely out of place but quite magnificent with the evening sky brooding over it.

I decided I was going to be playing football. I have to be playing football. Why else would I be recognised and have songs sang around me as I approached the ground?

The crowds queued for the turnstiles. I walked towards what I assume has to be the reception area and I’m greeted by an old(ish) looking bloke who welcomes me without words and shakes my hand. I decide that he’s Bill Nicholson. He’s not. He looks nothing like him. And when I hug the man and ask ‘where you playing me tonight Bill? Centre-mid or up front’ he just stares back and laughs nervously, almost like he was embarrassed for me for embarrassing myself.

This is one of the many quirks of dreams. This old man, his only role was to greet me. It’s like being in a movie where the main star improvises a scene and the actor opposite him has no idea how to react to something not in the script and wants the director to just shut out ‘cut’.

I continue walking and find myself weaving in and out of hall ways, eventually finding one that leads to the main tunnel which leads out onto the pitch. Either side are the dressing rooms. Home and away I guess. I walk up to the end of the tunnel and take a quick glance at the ground. The stands are heaving. Wonderful dream dynamics at play in the way of visuals. The ground is like the Tardis. From the outside, small and compact. Inside, there are about 60,000 to 70,000 fans. Noise is immense. The chanting, once again inaudible. I can’t work out the club and can’t tell if there are any away fans or not. Banners and confetti and drums. And the red sky above is still looking down majestically with moody night clouds gathering.

It's a beautiful beautiful image.

I go back down the tunnel and attempt to open one of the dressing room doors. It’s not locked, but it feels like someone (or perhaps more than just one) is pushing the door closed. I can hear voices, aggressive shouts of disdain from within. I decide to try the other door. It opens, I walk in.

There’s a battle cry, not because I happened to walk in. All the players getting changed and prepared punch the air and shout ‘FOR THE WAR’. I’m not greeted or shown the same type of attention the fans outside gave me. Just a knowing nod here and there. I was expected to be present. One of the lads.

I get given a kit to change into. The kit colours are white. A detail I’m thankful for. The badge not something I recognise. A combination of beast and tree.

I look around, and ask out loud ‘who are we playing?’

‘The enemy, for the war' I’m told by John Charles. The Gentle Giant himself, in black and white (literally, he was completely grey like he was plucked out from an old newspaper). I also see George Best lacing up his boots, bearded and youthful. And next to him, George Best. Twin brother? Doppelgänger? Who am I to question being in the presence of two Bests? For the record, twin Best had no beard and was also wearing a tight top. Yes, it was pink.

Also present in the room wearing shorts and boots:

-The Jolly Green Giant (I have a theory that seeing John Charles inspired the sudden emergence of the rather big animated quaint hulk).
-Various 1930s style footballers all looking rather debonnaire and serious.
-Sergio Aragonés ‘Groo the Wanderer’.
-Lord Lucan (with an accompanying afro and Sony cassette walkman).

The more I look around trying to put names to faces, the better it gets.

Greaves. Di Stefano and Puskas. El Diego. This is more like it. Genuine footballing legends to go alongside the aforementioned Charles. My brain is beginning to churn out the players I’d like to stand alongside with on the pitch.

The sound outside the dressing room, down the tunnel and within the shadows of the four stands is now thunderous. We’re all dressed, all ready to go. Smacking each other around the face to pump each other up. Yes, smacking. I got smacked around the face by a rather impish looking Steve Archibald who had to jump to get his hand up to plant a right-hander across my cheek. Archibald was a hobbit, complete with fat hairy feet (he wore no boots). I slapped him back. I had to bend down to do it and he was annoyed I didn't smack him hard. Which I didn't. Because he was so small and I took pity.

He bite me in the leg and run away.

The team then walked out of the dressing room and into the tunnel, all twenty or so of us. Probably more in fact. It was hard to tell, I kept seeing new faces and losing some old ones. The other dressing room door remained closed.

‘Don’t worry about them’ I hear voiced.

I also hear what sounds like a muffled song, a radio playing, but can’t focus or see where it’s coming from.

The dream had me a little mesmerised at this point, just moments away from taking the field. I was lucid, yet accepted the role of a passenger. A tourist. I found myself in a football ground and part of a super-human team of players plucked from the history books, randomness and probably bits and pieces of daily consumption that my brain had processed during the course of the day before I feel asleep.

I also had questions that needed answering which I looked forward to finding out.

What was the war? Who exactly is the enemy? What the f**k was behind the other dressing room door?

Up ahead of us, the ref and his assistants. Around six or seven men dressed in all black with sub-machine guns and swords. New FIFA directive I guess. Maradona approaches me and begins talking in what can only be described as Queens English. Very posh. He also had a quivering Rio Ferdinand lip. He tells me I’m a good lad and to be a team player. Very concise and articulate and also in context what with it being more than passable as a pre-match pep talk. He also tells me not to swear or curse.

‘It’s wrong and God will judge you’.

I smile. I’m now the one star-struck. I’m really lost in it all by this point. The players start running out onto the pitch, not waiting for the away team to line-up. Their dressing room door still closed.

The Jolly Green giant, on all fours, crawls past me making his way through the tunnel then stands tall once out on the pitch to rapturous applause and begins to tap dance.

I look back at the closed dressing room door. No sign of the other team. Maradona waves at me as he takes to the pitch. I can hear the radio again and distorted singing and talking. Then, directly in front of me as I walk under the archway before stepping out into the cauldron of noise – my grandfather appears.

This is a reoccurring trend. He points at me, gesturing his finger widely. I don’t move. Even a lucid dream can leave you feeling haunted. I walk up to him, with one eye on the pitch and it looks like the game is about to start. The opposing team were already on the pitch. Either that or they somehow made it there without me noticing. Another wonderfully annoying quirk of the dream arc, jumping around like a Quentin Tarantino movie ignoring a traditional linear narrative.

I looked back down the tunnel, noted the ‘away’ dressing room door was open. And my grandfather was now standing there, ignoring me, as he walks in.

The game had now started. I still couldn’t work out who the opposition were made up of. I could see Maradona who was clearly infuriated at my lack of movement, watching from within the tunnel. He continued his screaming at me to run onto the pitch as I walked towards the dressing room that my grandfather had disappeared into. He got so irate he removed his head and throw it at me, missing me by inches as it bounced down the tunnel and disappeared. I looked back at Diego on the pitch, who had now grown a new head and had turned into fat Diego. He sank into the turf and disappeared like a man caught in fast working quick sand.

I remained standing at the away dressing room entrance. The room was completely empty. It felt eerie.

"Screw this".

I decided instead to just go and play some footie. I'd be damned to be following ghosts around and no doubt my grandfather will appear in another dream at another time. As I jogged up the tunnel eager to hear the crowds reaction as I appeared before them, I suddenly felt a numbing feeling across my waist and I suddenly found myself being pulled down to the ground. Except, I didn’t actually fall down. The reason gravity was winning was because my legs – both of them – were no longer attached to the rest of my body.

No pain felt in dreams. But it was still unnerving. The radio sound was now very loud. Indistinguishable, but it dulled out the football chanting. I looked around to find my legs. Shuffling. Struggling. I couldn’t muster the strength to attempt to re-attach. I couldn’t change my dream environment either. I was stuck there, on the floor. I  felt a disturbing lack of control over my predicament.

I was alone.

And then I was not alone.

Out of nowhere stood a sinister looking Goran Bunjevčević. With lightsaber.

Which explained the sudden loss of my groin area and legs, leaving me a little stumpy.

“You will never play football again” he said, without the need to move his lips.

The tunnel no longer led out to the pitch. No archway, replaced by a wall. I could no longer hear any noise from the stands. Just the increasingly annoying radio.

He held the saber to my face and then lifted it up, holding it tightly with both hands. I could see where this was heading.

Two choices. I could quite easily let go of the lucid state and just wake myself up. All I would need to do is just think about the dream being lucid and that it’s a dream. The more I think about waking up will trigger me to actually wake up. I decided no harm could be done by just waiting for him to hit my over the head with the Jedi weapon of choice. So what if he does?

It’s a dream. I can’t die.

I look up at Goran and tell him to f**k his mother.

‘Die’. He replies.

Down comes the lightsaber. The radio music is now very clear and I can hear people talking and laughing.

I guess he split me in two because I can remember peeling to the left and to the right, my vision sliced.

'Don't come back' he says as my lucid dream begins to quickly evaporate. I wake up in my own bed, staring at the ceiling. Questions left answered. Not a single ball kicked. I playfully rub my forehead, just to make sure I'm awake and I have no lightsaber lodged in my skull.

The sonofab*tch killed me. He killed me and he woke me up. A dream character with an agenda actually succeed in removing me from my fantasy. I was evicted from my own subconscious in brutal fashion.

The radio and the talking coming from outside was the usual Monday morning wake-up call, market traders setting up their stalls directly outside (on the high road). It was around 7am.

I attempted to fall asleep and re-enter lucidity but failed. In the months that followed, I also failed to cross paths with the Beckenbaueresque defender and equally failed to conjure up his return by fixating on him when lucid. My quest to find the Serbian Sith continued for months in vein.

I also found it nigh impossible to play football in a lucid dream (or normal dream) since he cut me in half then quartered me. I was jinxed. I never found a football ground in a dream or any known footballers or even kids kicking a ball about in the road.

Jinxed? Cursed. Goran had activated a fail safe blocking me from fulfilling this one important past time. Who or what was he? I was never destined to find out.

That is, until two months ago. When I came face to face with him again.

And this time, I was tooled up.

This was part 6 and the final part of the International Break Diary II

#5 Forget about the price tag

#4 Adventures in lucid dreaming, part I

#3 Back in the day, isn't half as good as it is now

#2 The Spurs Madrid El Clásico

#1 Hands up if you want to stand up at football matches

Forget about the price tag

Moving on from Eminem, Stan and stalking the chairman...

With thanks to Jessie J (she hasn't got a clue but she wont mind) and the other credited writers (takes a team of people to write a pop song these days) for the original lyrics from her hit single Price Tag, borrowed and butchered for this blog and turned into a musical musing about our current forward plight. I’d ask you to enjoy but it’s no laughing matter. Much like auto-tuned music.

 

Okay, Comolli Man, Frankie Arne and Pleaty
You ready?

[Spooky]

Seems like everybody’s forgot to score,
I wonder if they should train all night
When the cross comes first,
And the miss comes second,
You stop, for a minute and
Swear

Why is everybody so calamitous
Acting so damn Rasiakious
You got blindfold on eyes
And boots back to front
That you can’t even show your t-shirt

[Pre-chorus]

Everybody pass to the left (bale)
Everybody hoof to the right (no)
Can you feel that (oh dear)
We’re never gonna score tonight…

[Chorus]

It’s not about the money, money, money
Levy will spend our money, money, money
We just have to sign a striker,
Forget about the Price Tag

Ain’t about the (tall) Cra-Crouch Cra-Crouch
Aint about the (Russian) Pav-Pling Pav-Pling
Wanna make a signing,
Forget about the Price Tag

[Spooky - Verse 2]

We need to take it back in time,
When Harry made us all unite
And it wasn’t all mis-hits and sitters,
Am I the only one gettin…twitchy?

Why is everybody so obsessed?
4-5-1 can’t buy us Prem success
Can we all slow down and play it on the ground
Guarantee we’ll be swaggerin’
Lilywhites

[Pre-chorus]

Everybody moan to the left (ffs)
Everybody groan to the right (christ)
Can you feel that (oh god)
van der Vaart’s gonna get subbed tonight…

[Chorus]

It’s not about the money, money, money
Levy will spend our money, money, money
We just wanna sign a striker,
Forget about the Price Tag

Ain’t about the (JD) Off-side Off-side
Aint about the (Orish) On-loan On-loan
Wanna make a signing,
Forget about the Price Tag

[Park Lane]

Yeah yeah
Levy pay any price tag
No need for money back guarantee
Forget about Jan, just give me world-class, give me glee
How about that La Liga Kun Sergio? Does he have a better goal ratio?
Otherwise kiss goodbye to Bale, Luka, so gotta bolster our portfolio
And all we...
Yes all we need is a striker
Unlike Berba one that won’t leave us for United
Let's not be stuck with playing Chirpy, cause I won’t be so delighted
It’s like this man, you pay up, don't be blinded
We dare to do so we fight and sacrifice for every glory night
Got to look to go all the way, believe, we just might
Waiting to see, a sign for a DVD uh uh
So we gon' keep everyone marching on their feet
So bring back the drummer and everybody sing
It’s not about…

[Chorus x2]

It’s not about the money, money, money
Levy will spend our money, money, money
We just badly need a striker,
Forget about the Price Tag

Ain’t about the (tall) Cra-Crouch Cra-Crouch
Aint about the (russian) Pav-Pling Pav-Pling
Wanna make a signing,
Forget about the Price Tag.

It’s not about the money, money, money
Levy will spend our money, money, money
We just have to sign a striker,
Forget about the Price Tag

Ain’t about the (JD) Off-side Off-side
Aint about the (Orish) On-loan On-loan
Wanna make a signing,
Forget about the Price Tag.

[Spooky - Outro]

Yeah yeah
oo-oooh
Forget about the price tag, just make a summer signing...

This was part 5 of the International Break Diary II

#4 Adventures in lucid dreaming, part I

#3 Back in the day, isn't half as good as it is now

#2 The Spurs Madrid El Clásico

#1 Hands up if you want to stand up at football matches

Adventures in lucid dreaming, part I

I'm content with my life. In part, it's been extraordinary.

I've stood, with studs on ball, wearing a yellow jersey with Garrincha to my left screaming for the pass. His gesturing drowned out in the noise the Maracanã is making as they chant my name.

I ignore him and just run forwards, beating every man and majestically passing the ball to the back of the net instead.

I've scored goals that defy gravity. Single-handily rushed into an away end to fight hundreds of hooligan fans because they dared to give me the finger having scored a last minute equaliser in the goal directly in front of them. World Cups, FA Cups, the North London derby. Been there, done that. Countless times.

Content I said, and I meant it.

I've also flown through a star going supernova, indulged in Roman orgies which involved no males other than myself (it's how I roll) and have visited places that to this day remain indescribable because they do not exist in the known universe. Mainly because they all exist in the depths of head.

Welcome to the world of lucid dreaming. It's fantastically tinged with Guillermo del Toro and a dab of David Lynch.

The subconscious mind is a vastly under-rated commodity we possess. We are mostly all far too busy in the waking world playing with our iPhones and Playstations to care about tapping into this rich tapestry of entertainment available when snoozing. And there of course far easier ways to achieve a higher state of consciousness if you wish to go on a personal journey every now and again. That particular route is bad for your health. No brain cells are damaged when partaking the path to lucidity.

Fact is we are too tired and consumed with the troubles of reality to bother about something that probably sounds quite whimsical and irreverent if you hear someone else talk about it in passing. When you go to bed, you do so to unwind and relax and boot-down. Yet it remains quite possibly the most intensely real 'unreal' reality available to us. And its free. However, it's not an easy task to achieve, which is why it remains a niche for casual dreamers like me and the true experts sitting on hills in Tibet mediating for hours on end.

There have been many instances of lucid dreaming in the mainstream, usually just borrowing one or two aspects and then exaggerating it all for the sake of box office. Vanilla Sky and Inception two prime examples. The latter borrowing a fair bit from it but not quite retaining its purity. There are countless books, guides and journals and even an institute. You can even buy an eye mask that sets off a red alarm when you hit REM sleep to aid with achieving lucidity.

I'm not about to detail how to go induce a lucid state and then retain said state. It's a long and labourious exercise. I've been doing this for a long time and struggled for years before I could even remain 'awake' within my dream for longer than ten seconds. Lucid Viagra isn't available as a pill sadly. If you want to last long enough to have an adventure you need plenty of practice.

I had the time to work on it all thanks to the insomnia that preceded it. When I finally got my much needed sleep, I found myself having vivid dreams. This eventually led to awakenings (you know how you wake up, get out of bed, make yourself a cup of tea, get dressed - then you wake up for real) which then led to lucid dreams.

The Internet is your friend if you're curious for a more complete guide. For the sake of the story I have to share, I'll explain some important fundamental basics.

You might think, what's the big deal? It's a dream. Big whoop. Well, imagine going from a small black and white tv with poor audio to a high definition television with 3D capabilities. I cannot emphasis the difference in clarity between a normal dream and a lucid one. It's monstrous in size. And when it happens, when the transition occurs, you get a rush from it. It's very dramatic.

When you become lucid it's thanks to the accompanying realisation of a trigger in your subconscious mind that tells you 'you're asleep, it's a dream'. Basically, a dream sign acts like a trigger which will wake you up only if you recognise it. Some people use binaural beats others use the mask that sets off flashing red lights that can appear in the dream (as red traffic lights or red sky or whatever) to give you a hint (a reminder) it's not real. Or you can simply train yourself to work out it out naturally.

I tend to work on these more traditional dream signs:

• Turning a light switch on or off. No idea why the dream state struggles with this, but it's incapable of replicating it meaning you can't turn any lights on or off.
• You can't feel pain. Numb feeling if something like a pack of wolves attacks you and attempts to break your skin open. The brain simply doesn't attempt to replicate the sensation here, probably as a means of protecting you from having a heart attack in your sleep. Much like the brain shut-downs the muscles so that you don't act out physically when dreaming.
• Reading. Attempt to read a watch-face or a page from a book, turn away and turn back and continue reading. It will have changed each time you look at it because the subconscious mind does not bother with retaining consistency with such details.

The most common dream sign is the one most miss. If you're flying, you're obviously dreaming - but as obvious as this is, it's also quite difficult to question it during a normal dream. So in real life, back in the day, I'd always ask myself the question 'am I dreaming' if say I looked at the time. I'd then look away, look back and if the time was practically the same (spare a few seconds) meaning it's real life and I'm awake. Simplistic logic this, because if you test yourself often enough you'll end up doing it in a dream - which means you'll end up questioning what you see and working out you're actually asleep.

Slightly better method than say jumping off a tall building and then admitting it's not a dream because you're not able to float away into the clouds.

The dream scape is also in some ways much like those old style point and click pc adventure games in terms of design. Not everything works. The inconsequential stuff is partly ignored by the dreaming mind, tagged as filler and background details and retains no consistency - as cited already. Also when talking to people within the dream. Some will react to you, talk to you, others will stare blankly back because they are simply empty of any thought. Others will be reactive (depending on what you do to incite).

I am not at the standard of some who can wipe their dream canvas blank and create something brand new (Inception liked this). I can however think of something and have that something usually appear at some point in the dream. I can manipulate at a very low level but that's probably because I've never bothered too much with using lucid dreams to solve problems or create dream characters and places from scratch.

I prefer to interact with the dream I awake in.

Walking around and telling people you meet that they don't actually exist and they're a figment of my subconscious whilst attempting to explain 'I'm God' is not a constructive way to spend my time there. But it's joyful megalomania. You can quickly turn the dream against you (Inception sort of used this one too). I've been chased by dream characters as if they knew I shouldn't be so self-aware and tampering with the dream environment. Possibly the dream mechanics here relate to insecurities and in some deeper lying way I'm controlling the other dream characters without knowing it. But let's not delve too deep in it.

Fact remains, it's utterly mesmerising to go on a jolly wondering around the dream you've awoken in.

Now in an normal dream (the type you wake up from and remember for a few moments before it begins to disappear from memory) you feel part of it's arc but more so like you're watching yourself on television or following a script. In these dreams, I cannot ever partake in football. Everything slows down to snails pace. I can't run. I can't kick the ball properly. Other players around me blink in and out of focus. It's a mess.

Now in a lucid dream it's all akin to that World Cup Nike advert (or any big budget football boot ad for that matter). Loud, vibrant, ridiculously impossible physics with gorgeous sounds. Others around you are people who might exist in real life but they look different in the dream but you still know who they are. A thousand million colours compared to the monochrome of a normal dream.

Its important to understand that lucid dreams - they feel as real if not better than life. There's a buzz to it. You know it's not real but because of what you can do, it feels completely without restraint and yet somehow still dangerous. You'll still question yourself about it, but you know it's safe.

A lucid dreamer can describe how it feels to fly through the sky, above the earth's atmosphere and across the solar system. The sensation within the dream, the emotion and the feeling, it comes from the brain executing what it believes the experience would actually feel like if it was actually happening. Every emotion, every movement. So it's pretty f*****g special.

So what in the hell has any of this got to do with my beloved Tottenham Hotspur?

Allow me to tell you about the time that Goran Bunjevčević killed me in a dream.

With a lightsaber.

...will be continued in 'Adventures in lucid dreaming, part II'

This was part 4 of the International Break Diary II

#3 Back in the day, isn't half as good as it is now

#2 The Spurs Madrid El Clásico

#1 Hands up if you want to stand up at football matches

Back in the day? It isn't half as good as it is now

Many years back, I sat with a mate chatting about random stuff and another mutual friend joined us looking rather suspicious and paranoid as he sat down.

"You won't believe this", he whispered.

He then proceed to tell us a story that had been reported in the newspapers. However the version he described was somewhat different to the one that was covered by the tabloids. The finer details supplied contained greater clarity and ironically a far more sensationalist pull than how the red tops presented it. In hindsight, you can understand that if you wished to read between the lines, the story in the papers hinted very subtly at the underlying truth behind the headline. Our paranoid friend was not quite constrained by legalities. In the know. Face to face. No hiding behind an avatar or badge. Old skool style.

How I miss those old days, before the Internet. When all your football discussion was done in the stands and pubs pre and post match and then in college/uni/work on the Monday morning. Rumours and stories concerning footballers would eventually find their way to someone you knew who would then share with you by virtue of a far slower cruder network, a grapevine of Chinese whispers, which some what distorted the original version by the time you got to place your ears up close to listen.

Football transfer stories would play out on the back pages. In fact (I could be distorting the past myself here) I'm fairly sure at the time the tabloids were never far off the mark with their stories. I remember following the Paul Gascoigne transfer via The Sun and the Daily Mirror. It played out with every twist and turn pretty much as reported on. Even with the papers claiming (as Paul himself promised) that he was going to join Utd. And then he joined Spurs.

Everything was far less complicated. Sure, agents existed at the time but footballers were only beginning to transcend to the path of vanity and pampered ego. They were still infants. Football had yet to explode (implode). The money yet to hit astronomical levels.

In modern times everything is pushed and harassed under the microscope, probed and then dissected. We can discuss, debate, argue and rant long after we return home from the game - in message boards, on blogs and with social networking. In fact we can do all of it at the game if we so wished via our smart phones. During the game. In fact, we can even commentate on the game thanks to Twitter. We are completely immersed and every thought and opinion can now be snapshot and shared and forwarded onto others and left behind for all to read weeks, months and years later.

It's not just what we see, it's what everybody can see. There are cameras, microphones, twenty-four hour news feeds on tv and the radio. There is so much coverage that it's an impossibility for you to not know what is going on. Everybody is a reporter. Everybody is a critic.

But that isn't a bad thing.

We have the ability to communicate and share opinion with fans from our own club and other clubs - from within the UK and from anywhere on the planet. The football fan isn't just that mouthy bloke in the stand shouting abuse at the ref. We've got writers, illustrators, animators. We have tactical analysts and fanatical statisticians. We no longer have to wait for that bloke in the pub or a mate of a mate to pass on something he heard from his uncle that has a cousin who has a girlfriend that has a brother that works with someone who knows someone who works in the club you support and they heard *snip*. Now we get told the juicy info, off the cuff, from a tree, with only a simple caveat stating 'don't shoot the messenger'. To the point. No messing. No need to wait a month to find it out the details.

Sure, the tabloids no longer control the transfer tittle-tattle. Agents, club insiders, paid off journalists, players - they're all in on it. Along with club managers. Everyone with their own agenda, everyone trying to influence and tap up. Mostly driven by the greed for more money and success. You'll find many staking a claim in a story they copied from someone who copied it from someone else who heard it from someone who probably made it up. But nobody stands tall to be accountable for the mess, because it's part and parcel of how things now work. And if questioned, they claim they're protecting their 'insider'. A license to lie. Much like the existence of God you can't prove it, you can't disprove it. Unless it's written in cryptic English (if it is - then it's a lie).

And sure, players are hardly likeable these days compared to the good old days. Arrogant, smug, horrible self-centred people. Not all of them. Most of them. Especially the really really successful ones. England captains and the like. You obviously get arrogant, smug, horrible self-centred people following the game too, be it in the stands or via blogs.

Especially via the blogs. Crowning themselves the peoples champion when the reality is that they hardly have much to say and there are far more articulate and funny football fans who don't go anywhere near a computer, but you'll find them at the match where perhaps you have to be standing next to them to enjoy and smile at a quick-witted joke or astute observation. Unless they've been escorted out for not sitting down.

And then you have the clubs that treat fans like consumers not football fans, patronising them what with revenue taking precedence over the emotive stuff, because emotion wont help bluster the transfer budget.

Hold on a second. Screw this. I think I need to go back and re-think the title to this article.

This was part 3 of the International Break Diary II

#2 The Spurs Madrid El Clásico

#1 Hands up if you want to stand up at football matches

How did you get on with the ticket office today?

Ticket for Real Madrid at home?

Go ahead and share your stories if you can still muster the strength in your broken fingers having smashed the keyboard up with your clenched angry fists. Blood splattered over monitor whilst screaming 'Nooooooo' in the same way Anakin Skywalker did when he awoke to find himself as 'Darth Vader' in a galaxy far far away. I actually stood up in the cinema and also screamed 'Noooooo'. George Lucas, what have you done?

Many of you this evening are shaking your heads at incompetence a little bit closer to home relating to the process and resulting nightmare that is the lottery to get your hands on a ticket, as a member of the club. Daniel Levy, are you listening?

Some examples of complaints below.

Sent to: ian.murphy@tottenhamhotspur.com

Dear Sir

It is with a heavy heart I write to you today with regard to the online ticketing system.
I have in the last few months, come to hate the "lottery" that the system appears to apply to applications and feel if I do not raise it with you, you will be unaware of these issues.

As before, tickets are on sale at half past nine in the morning. Like everyone else I log on earlier than this to join the queuing system for a ticket. At one point the queuing bar jumped from 2/3 full back down to 1/3. I have no idea why. I finally was let in at around 10:30am (~2 hours queuing). This I would think, would be a good result. The map of the ground is before me and all orange. Orange is good - it means there is limited availability but not sold out. I only want 1 ticket so I should easily be able to get one.

This turns out not to be the case. Every block I select comes back with the response simlar to "you cannot buy that amount of tickets in this block". If there are no tickets left, the block should be red. If there are, I should be able to purchase one. Therefore I must assume that either there are seats reserved for sale at the ticket office, in which case they should be marked as sold on the website, or there are complex rules at work not wishing to seat only one person when it could perhaps seat 2 or 3 people next to each other. Can you please tell me which it is?

It is inordinately frustrating to spent 30 minutes clicking blocks trying to find an available seat on that system. It should not be this way and I would like to know if there are plans to make it more efficient and work better. Can you tell me what the plans are for the ticketing site, given that with Ticketmaster it is just shambolic. I cannot even select a seat that I might want - it is a pure lottery in terms of being able to get into the site, and then in terms of where I can sit. I presume this is again to enable larger groups to sit together. This is not acceptable to me and many fans however. I recommend that policy is rescinded. Can you comment?

I then jump on the popular forum, glory-glory.co.uk to find people not only in a similar boat, but worse off than I! Some talking about how they end up opening web browsers on more than one machine, and the latter machine is further in the queuing process than the one that has been queuing for an hour already! Then I hear someone logged in via their mobile phone at 09:35am and got straight in and secured 3 tickets!

I have no problem with a queuing system as long as it is fair and works. The current one clearly doesn't. Then, even when logged in it is nigh on impossible to purchase a ticket despite the site showing availability.

I am sure the Club are simply happy that again it is going to be another wonderful European night at the Lane and that it is sold out. The process of getting there is so arduous and disheartening to supporters however that it creates great depression and produces a lot of bad feeling towards the club. When we finally make a decision on what to do about a new stadia, and it is completed then hopefully this will mitigate people not getting seats but even so, it will not change the fact that the application process for tickets is shambolic and simply not good enough.

I hope you are able to respond to the points I raise here today, and that you have a good weekend.

best regards,
David Beamish
<member number>

Dear Mr. Murphy,

Another big match at White Hart Lane, another online ticketing farce. When it comes to high demand matches the current online ticketing system is not fit for purpose. It does not work. It's as simple as that.

I joined the online queuing system at 07:45 this morning. I did not get past the queue and into the site until 11:30 this morning. At around 09:15 when the progress bar indicated that I was nearly at the front of the queue, it reset itself to almost zero, for no reason.

I know several people who joined the queue over an hour after I did, yet they got to the front of the queue and were able to buy tickets long before me. This would not be possible if the system worked. I know several other people in the same boat as myself. The progress bar telling us our position in the queue is meaningless, it is random, it bears no semblance to reality.

Even if you are lucky enough to get past the queue, more pitfalls await. I spent nearly twenty-five minutes clicking on blocks which show as orange (indicating limited ticket availability) only to be told that no tickets were available when I did so. It was by sheer random luck that I happened to get a ticket in East Upper Block G, probably after the fifth or sixth time I had clicked on that block.

It cannot be right that loyalty points play no part when it comes to once in a lifetime fixtures such as our match with Real Madrid, or our match with AC Milan, which suffered a similar meltdown with the online ticketing system.

How can it be right that somebody with 400+ loyalty points, who has followed the club for years, has the same chance of getting a ticket as someone who may have bought a membership as a one off just to attend this glamour fixture and has no intention of going to another match until the likes of Real Madrid visit us again?

The current system shows loyal Tottenham fans, who have spent their money on the club for years, no respect at all. The way the club dismisses these concerns after every ticketing bungle gives the impression that the club does not care how loyal a fan is, just as long as there's someone there to step up and line the clubs pockets.

Surely the only fair way to sell tickets for these matches is on the same basis as away matches. Allow everyone who wants a ticket to apply, work out how many loyalty points are needed, and then allow everyone who exceeds that limit to purchase a ticket.

This would also have the effect of encouraging fans to attend the less glamorous fixtures in order to build up their loyalty points.

Obviously loyalty points would need to have some kind of time limit, otherwise it would be impossible for new members to catch up older members who have been attending matches for many years. I would suggest that at the start of each season any loyalty points over three years old be removed. That way, a new member can build up their loyalty points and within three seasons have just as much chance to get a ticket to the big games as long time loyal members.

At the very least, even if there is no change to take loyalty points into account, that the club looks into replacing the current online ticketing system with something much more robust. The server capacity clearly cannot handle the demand and strain placed on it and the design and implementation of the software is shoddy at best. It really does need to be changed for a better system.

Thank you for your time,

Yours faithfully,

EJG

From Twitter:

took me 115 calls and 6 pcs at work to get 2 tickets.. 15 mins before selling out. also, it wasn't 1st come 1st serve online as my colleague logged in 35 mins after me, and got in before me? - @Stevewfinch

Yes. Guy at ticket office said "this is why you should have supported move to Stratford". Hundreds there to hear it - @Shpates

From Spurs:

All available tickets for our forthcoming Champions League Quarter Final Second Leg tie with Real Madrid were sold out to One Hotspur Bronze and Lilywhite members within two hours of going on sale this morning (Friday).

We should like to thank all supporters for their patience as extended queuing times were experienced due to the unprecedented demand at the Ticket Office, on-line and via our Ticketmaster call centre service.

65,000 members were eligible to purchase a ticket, and at 9 30am this morning over 20,000 individual members were queuing on-line. We are aware that many fans will be extremely disappointed not to have been successful in acquiring a ticket. This demand shows the fantastic fan-base the Club has and we should like to thank you for your support.

Hands up if the steward who proclaimed "this is why you should have supported move to Stratford" should be stuck in a Gunnersaurus costume and pushed into the Park Lane toilets at half-time?

Only joking. Would never consider doing that. For a start nobody would see him from all the smoke.

There is no disputing we have a supply and demand issue and that moving to a new stadium is paramount. But this isn't about appeasing the masses. It's about having a system that isn't the equivalent of playing Gary Doherty and Ramon Vega in central defence. It's always been a complaint and today emphasis that fact tenfold.

It seems utterly random. If there are so many eligible people then perhaps the club can attempt to redefine the application process (which in this case was log in, hit, hope). Loyalty points perhaps. Building a 60,000 is hardly going to help unless we delay the fixture for five or so years. In all seriousness, if we were playing in a stadium twice the size of WHL as of right now, we'd still have fans applying and being made to pi** in the wind.

Fix the process, make it fair. Treat us like Tottenham fans not screaming teenagers after a JLS ticket.

If you haven't already, please visit Supporting our Future and complete the survey.

We, a group of supporters of Tottenham Hotspur Football Club, intend to offer a practical proposal based on the opinions of the fans to resume development of a World Class football stadium worthy of the club and its ambition at our current home, White Hart Lane.

Have your say. We've all had something to moan about in the past six months, let's not all suddenly go quiet again until the next twist and turn rears it's head.

The Spurs Madrid El Clásico

For the fanboys.

Even in a computer game Tottenham Hotspur appear to retain that heart wrenching heart pulling heart beat skipping drama that the version in real life seem to own the copyright for. What am I mumbling about now? Sorry, should have introduced myself.

Hello, I'm Spooky. I'm a Football Manager addict.

And this is my personal all-time favourite heart in mouth epic from my current FM2011 save game. It's against Real Madrid. It's in the Champions League. First round knock-out. And the first leg is away.

Click on the images to expand and view the stats more clearly if FM porn turns you on.

1st leg - Bernabeu

Teams:

Inept display in the Bernabeu with just two shots on target and plenty of tippy-tappy possession that led to ineffectual movement in and around the box. Madrid, punishing and in control from start to finish, easily winning with a three goal margin thanks to decisive finishing. When they had a clear chance, they took it. Practically out of the competition at the final whistle, I'm sure most would agree.

 

 

2nd leg - White Hart Lane, N17

Teams:

If this was released on dvd, it wouldn't be. It wouldn't even be blu-ray. It could only be 3D. The most pulsating of games thanks mainly to my pre-match worries that concerned the question: What the heck can I do to win this game? Under the floodlights, at the Lane, fate made a very late appearance to turn the tie on it's head in a ridiculously impossible 'only Spurs' kinda way.

Allow me to explain chronologically:

Ronaldo gets sent off for petulance, early on in the 15th minute. Very nice of him to oblige. This inspired the team.
We proceed to absolutely batter them with possession play and shots on goal.
Aguero makes the break-through in the 33rd minute.
It's still 1-0 after 87 minutes. Even with over thirty efforts on goal, we simply cannot find a way through a resolute and battling Madrid side.
Magic by Neymar on the wing, crosses for Bale, who scores to make it 2-0 in the 88th minute. Too little too late?
Then masses of drama in injury time. Zapata is sent off for a second bookable offence about 15 yards outside the penalty area.
The resulting free-kick is floated into the box, where a Spurs player is pushed. Ref points to the spot. PENALTY!
The very definition of pressure. The Lane holds its breath.
Gourcuff steps up (having missed his three previous pens).
He scores, emphatically. 3-3, second minute of injury time. Believe!
Extra time.
Eleven men V nine men.
Time for a royal procession. van der Vaart corner from the left. Ledley header (109th minute) to make it 4-0.
van der Vaart corner from the right. Ledley header again (118th minute).
5-0. You hear that Franco? Your boys took one hell of a beating. 5-3 on agg.
I'm positively beaming at all the colourful on screen animated pixels and their almost better than life simulation of a football match (I did earlier cite the word 'addict').

 

 

Emotional glory. Madrid, ended. Thanks for watching.

Footnote: Went on to beat Leverkusen in the final, 4-1.

#2 International Break Diary II

Hands up if you want to stand up at football matches

It's back in the news again, standing at football matches. The Prem league are set to oppose a return to designated terracing. Obviously we can't be trusted to stand without seats and the stewards and police can't be trusted to manage the same amount of people that would be present if they were instructed to sit down. They do realise that if something (God forbid) happened - we'd all still need to stand up to leave in an orderly fashion? I can't help but think that the reasons given for not entertaining the potential for standing areas at modern stadia is one born out of laziness. It's all safe and comfortable and easy as it is so why complicate things by risking any potential for trouble when that potential is practically no different to anything that might or might not happen at a football match.

Considering how tight the ticketing system is when purchasing and entering the ground and more so the amount of stewarding, police and CCTV that exists during the ninety minutes that gets played out - the system is already in place to guarantee the safety of fans who wish to stand rather than sit. Fact is, it happens at games anyway. Park Lane lower at Spurs a perfect example. Stewards forever trying to get people to sit down. Threats that the council will close parts of the ground if we don't. Happens elsewhere too. Let's be honest, the clubs go through the motions of asking people to sit and already some (arguably) turn a blind eye at some altogether. Whilst others display a zero-policy to it, removing fans if they persistently refuse to remain seated. It's all very unnecessary and over-policed.

Stop patronising us, we're not hooligans and this is not the 1980s and whether its standing room with seats or a fully fledged no-seat area - it's going to be safe by virtue of the amount of people that are allowed access to it. The very fact stadia are better designed and are far safer environments is not because there is no terracing - it's because of everything else (the aforementioned infrastructure concerning entry to the ground and the fact you can not get away with being stupid/racist/thuggish thanks to said CCTV and the vigilance of other fans).

I'm sure some of the reasoning against it relates to such matters as smoking or drinking or if there is an idiot in amongst the standing fans - it's far easier to imagine gaining access to said person if it was a seated area. In a crowd, you can 'escape'. Not far to be honest, you still have to attempt to leave the ground. And people who cause trouble do so now in seated grounds so that's hardly going to be influenced with a throwback to how we once upon a time enjoyed a game of football.

How about rather than dismissing it for no apparent reason - the Prem send a delegation to Germany and see how they manage to include standing areas at their grounds without any issues at all to safety. Or trial it. Or at the very least speak to fan associations and clubs and gauge opinion. We're the ones spending our money on the game. Ironically, making us consumers - which is where the problem exists.

Football has changed in so many ways. You're not immersed as much as you once was because you're not allowed to be. It's almost frowned upon in some grounds to swear or show intense emotion. It's even got to the point where some fans ask you to keep the noise down as they turn around to face you from the seat in the next row (it's happened to me a couple of times). We'd had to sacrifice a lot because of mistakes made by others and because of a changing society and football itself morphing into a far more accessible pastime (compared to the 80s) for families to attend. The whole footballing landscape in terms of the evolution of the fan and the experience explosion into the mainstream has changed massively in the past 10-20 years. Shame that the more working class elements (whether you are working class or not) are no longer truly respected.

So, to the Prem League - we're not asking for much. So stop pretending we are and try to meet us half way.

For more information and to sign the petition, visit the Football Supporters' Federation.

#1 International Break Diary II

Supporting our Future

In the aftermath of the fragmentation and discussions (mostly arguments) surrounding the proposed move to Stratford and the viability of the NDP we once more find ourselves waiting for the clubs next move. You wouldn't dispute the fact that we were some what left on the shelf during the whole process. A protest here, a protest there - Daniel Levy and club simply asked us to keep the faith but left many of us in a state of confusion with questions left unanswered.

Protesting, obviously not enough. A different approch is required. And we have that.

A group of Spurs fans have got together to attempt to gauge constructive opinion by way (initally) of a survey. Rather than simply chase the club for answers the aim is to propose a soultion(s). And that can only be completed if you get yourself involved.

It's well worth your time and hopefully the club will take note and possibly push forward with their own referendum or at the very least respond to the proposals that SOF suggest - as the progression of Tottenham remains paramount with all concerned. We still need that bigger stadium, right?

Martin Cloake is involved in this and it's worth reading his associated article about the survey and the reasons behind 'Supporting our Future' (rather than me paraphrasing and not doing it any justice).

You can do so by clicking here to visit his blog and article.

The 'Supporting our Future' ethos is outlined as follows on their website:

Our initial aim is to get discussions to resume development of a World Class football stadium worthy of the club and its ambition at our current home, White Hart Lane, back on track. We aim to do this by

• Conducting a detailed survey of fan opinion
• Using these findings to construct practical proposals.
• Seeking meaningful dialogue with the club and partners interested in backing stadium expansion.
• Working in a fully transparent manner.

We encourage every Spurs fan reading this site to take part in our on-line referendum.

Explore these pages to find out more about Supporting our Future, the latest news, and how to get in touch, particularly if you are interested in helping to support our work.

 Their mission statement is simple:

We, a group of supporters of Tottenham Hotspur Football Club, intend to offer a practical proposal based on the opinions of the fans to resume development of a World Class football stadium worthy of the club and its ambition at our current home, White Hart Lane.

Click here for the survey. Have your say. We've all had something to moan about in the past six months, let's not all suddenly go quiet again until the next twist and turn rears it's head.

Rafa talks Madrid, CL and Spurs (the great continental sensation)

Plenty of van der Vaart associated coverage today, mostly on the non-event of a story concerning his recent substitutions (he always subbed, no?) and his disgruntled walk down the tunnel. I say disgruntled because the thinking here is that if you walk straight down the tunnel it has nothing to do with treatment but everything to do with making a point and showing dissatisfaction. It probably does have more to do with the latter, but hardly Ghalyesque.

Rafa is a colourful character, no debate there. Yes, he has an ego. And Harry always likes to respond to a question with a sound bite that will make him look good. Mountain, mole hill. In my opinon. The Dutchmen has hardly blasted the gaffer has he? It’s denial, self-avoidance of admittance that he’s frustratingly still not fully fit and the substitutions are a necessity. I wouldn’t start trailing through the newsfeeds and forums to find a nugget of ITK or news of a possible summer replacement for him just yet.

There have been other interviews (again, mostly concentrating and quoting and then exaggerating the ‘spat’ with Harry), but thought this one below would be of more fulfilling interest. Masses of thanks to Tony Lacatena for working through the article and translating it for us. The interview is from today's Marca (the Spanish national sports newspaper that loves its Real Madrid). Not a mention of Redknapp.

Enjoy.

From: MARCA 22 March 2011, Page 4 (entire page)
 
VAN DER VAART "I'm not out for revenge, but this is the meeting of my dreams"
 
An interview with Sergio Fernandez

 
While the entire Tottenham dressing room was throwing their hands up to their heads following the [CL] draw, Rafael van der Vaart (Heemskerk, 1983) was displaying a cheeky grin. He will return to Madrid, where he is loved despite his brief sojourn. However he does so in order to continue making history with the "Spurs", the great continental sensation. Indeed so, with no rancour.

Q: Madrid crosses paths with you once again. This will be the first time you'll confront your ex-team, and no less than in the quarter finals of the CL. How do you face up to such a special tie for you?

A: To be honest, this was the meeting I'd dreamt of. I'm looking forward to seeing my friends from the club and team. I left RM in a good way and I'm proud to have been able to play there, in a top city and the biggest and nicest club in the world. I'm thankful every day for having been able to play for RM. These will be two very special matches for me on a personal and sporting level.

Q: You speak very well of your time with RM. Isn't there even a little bit of desire for revenge or to show that you still could have been a player in white?

A: Well no, I don't have the tiniest feeling of revenge, far from it. This is about feelings and links with the players, not the bosses. In two seasons I had good and bad moments. The biggest problem was that we didn't win anything, and because of this there were many changes in personnel. But there is no thirst for vengeance, at all. I enjoyed a big stage of my career in Madrid and I often recall those days. It's a memory I'll always take with me.

Q: How do Real Madrid with Mourinho look to you? Do you think the team have made a big leap in quality with the new manager, are they stronger now?

A: It looks very good to me. I get the impression they've grown a good deal. It is a great team.

Q: With Tottenham's permission, do you consider Madrid as one of the big favourites to win the CL?

A: (laughs) Of course. Unfortunately for them, Tottenham is crossing their path and we're going to have to stop them... (laughs again). No seriously, once you reach the quarter finals of the CL you can always win. You need a bit of luck, because to have got this far you have clearly proven that you are a good team. It will be a spectacular tie, passionate, an encounter worthy of the greatest European competition.

Q: How do you see RM in La Liga? Do you think that they are at a closer level to Barcelona compared to last year? Do you think they've closed the gap?

A: The previous season we managed almost 100 points in La Liga. Outrageous. With those points we would have been champions in almost all other previous seasons, if not all. The only thing is that Barcelona were immense too, better than we were. Unfortunately, I believe the same will happen this season. Madrid are phenomenal once again, but even so they're five points away. But the team looks better under Mourinho and I think that he is managing to bring them closer to Barcelona.

Q: The fans believe in Mourinho a lot and are convinced that they will return to winning titles with him.

A: Well, the truth is that there's a lot of season still to go and Mourinho has already proved with Porto, Chelsea and Inter that he's capable of transforming a team and win everything.

Q: Save Mou a trip to London to spy on you and tell me what are your team’s virtues are? What do Tottenham have that can surprise Madrid for a tie in which they're not favourites?

A: We are big team players, with lots of desire and we have quality. More so, we're able to play different types of football: generally a passing game, but we're also able to put everything into defence if need be, and to launch crosses into the area and look for chances. We hold lots of alternatives in our playing style, and that's important in Europe.
 
Q: Tottenham have a lot of good players in their books. Do you regard any one of your teammates above the rest?

A: Peter Crouch [haha]. He's a very difficult player for opponents to defend against.
 
Q: And what can you tell me of Gareth Bale? Over here he's creating a sensation, and there's talk of RM and Barcelona tracking him.

A: Another magnificent player. It's normal that they're tracking him.
 
Q: Having experienced the atmosphere at the Bernabeu on big nights, I imagine that you'll be advising your colleagues on how to deal with stage fright.

A: For sure, although we've already proved were able to bring our game in stadiums like the San Siro. It didn't bother us much when it was time to play. When you're in the game you forget the ambience around you.

Q: So you see your team as one with options, ready to bring a battle to a Madrid that, as you well know, is anxious to regain the European throne and conquer the Ten [the CL title].

A: We have enough quality to surprise RM over two games. If we get to play our game, we can get a good result at the Bernabeu. We'll have to produce our best, but we're ready for the challenge.

Cracking stuff. You heard it right - Crouch is endorsed by van der Vaart (that was an endorsement, right?). Tall joke aside, considering the amount of assists he's laid on for Rafa he was hardly going to pick anyone else. Although the less said about launching the ball in the box the better. Possibly something lost in translation there. He surely can't mean we hoof it. Crouch has good feet. Oh wait, he scores from the headed knock-downs. Horny sheath football it is then.

Thanks again to Tony for firing this across to me. Hoping that vdV keeps his cool and composure for that first tie in Madrid. No wild lunges and over-excited drama. Just a measured performance from a player both fit in mind and body leading the way forward at his galvanising best.

Tasty.

Oh God, it's that time of the month

International Break is upon us. Last time out it was a rather productive time with this blog as I side-stepped the England circus with a six-parter (that acted as filler for the lack of newsworthy Spurs news) which included musings and anecdotes about the 1991 season protests outside the High Court smashing up Amstrad computers, how and why I (and you) started supporting Spurs, a mention of Stratford, defending Robbie Keane and one or two other more random subject matters to polish it all off before the Prem returned. Click here for the final part and links to the first five - if you fancy reminiscing. Full links below.

Not sure yet how to best handle the time that will see Wales and Ghana share the headlines with Fabio and his army of stuttering, spitting and soulless Lions before we return to all things THFC.

Although I might find myself forced to follow and report on England thanks to the following:

Dawson, Lennon, Defoe, Crouch. All in the squad. Congratulations to Walker for also making it. Back to the aforementioned four. I promise you all, if we lose any of these players to injury I will systematically remove body parts from World Cup Willie and send them to the FA until they do the right thing and return the Tottenham representatives, boxed up in cotton wool and feathered pillows to Bill Nicholson Way. Yeah, World Cup Willie, you heard that right. He's old, his bones are brittle, but he still feels pain.

If that wasn't bad enough (the Spurs players selected in the squad, not the fact that I have the World Cup '66 mascot imprisoned in my basement), it's Wales which means it's Bale which means they're hardly not going to play him. So that's almost half a  team we've got out there risking it all for national duty. There's also van der Vaart with the Netherlands, who isn't even fully fit. I could go on, I won't. I need to stop thinking about all this to aid with subsiding the heart convulsions. I need to relax, and possibly attempt to detach ever so slightly from it all. Again.

Therefore...

International Break Diary II...on it's way.

International Break Diary

Tuesday, October 5 - Tuesday, October 12

International heart-break

Tottenham till I die

A spoon full of sugar makes the Venables go down

FAO Sullivan, Gold and Brady

In defence of Robbie Keane

Boycott England