There we were, now here we are

There we were, now here we are
All this confusion, nothing's the same to me
There we were, now here we are
All this confusion, nothing's the same to me

I can't tell you the way I feel
Because the way I feel is oh so new to me
I can't tell you the way I feel
Because the way I feel is oh so new to me.

What I heard is not what I hear
I can see the signs but they're not very clear
What I heard is not what I hear
I can see the signs but they're not very clear

So I can't tell you the way I feel
Because the way I feel is oh so new to me
I can't tell you the way I feel
Because the way I feel is oh so new to me.

This is confusion, am I confusing you?
This is confusion, am I confusing you?
This is peculiar, we don't want to fool ya
This is peculiar, we don't want to fool ya

(Come on, come on...)
Yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah...

(Come on, come on...)
Yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah...  

Columbia by Noel Gallagher. Cheers Noel. I'm f*cking flying, flying...

Dream the impossible dream

by guest-blogger Tricky

Let me tell you about pain, you all know pain right? You remember how it felt when you first truly hurt yourself.

You fell out of that tree / off your bike / off the climbing frame, and that split second between the event occurring and your reaction to the incident, that nano-second of a moment, when the white hot explosion sent every sensor in your body sparking, as the electrons quickened to the receptors in your brain.

That fleeting moment when all around you could cease to exist, because all that matters is not what has happened but what is about to happen. That was pain, your first most pure experience of something that would re-visit you in years to come.

And then we grow older and wiser (in some cases) and the world teaches us that pain is relative, it has different degrees and dimensions and it differs between people, because it becomes relative to our most painful experience.

I now consider myself fortunate to have, once in my life, been in so much pain that the receptors have overloaded and unconsciousness has shut me down, because anything less than what I felt that day, with the claret and the exposed bone, is a bonus. And a lot of us have been there, and to different degrees we have each had our own moment.

And then there is emotional pain, compounded by anticipation, nervousness, rejection, denial. It is in its own way the complete and absolute opposite of happiness and the antithesis of joy. And this different type of anguish, it hurts less in the short term, if truth be told, but nonetheless it exists and it is cold and unforgiving and it plays with our thoughts in a way that physical pain never can.

Twisting our thoughts back to those moments when the world once again ceased to have any bearing on the ‘here and now’, replaying those moments in our head when we have to face the world and all that it can do to us. It makes us cynical unbelievers that any good that might have happened in the past or indeed might ever happen again.

I remember well the day of 7^th May 2006, not for the game, but for the pain. I was in a bar in Ibiza, with a few fans of other ‘well supported clubs’. Watching the goon fan’s pre-match nerves falling away like some shadowy veil, whilst my dehydration/ sleep deprivation combo provided only a prelude as to what unravelled that day. I still remember it well, though I don’t want to, I can remember every single heart beat and bead of sweat that could be lived during one game, just one game, which occurred thousands of miles away from where I was on that one day.

 And even though I was not there in body, my spirit was crushed, I wished I didn’t care. But deep down I knew the reason for the pain was because I did care, and that nothing anyone would say to me would explain the injustice of it all.

And so now to today's game, which occupies my thoughts every three seconds. And part of me still will not dare yet believe that it could happen, because I remember the pain all too much and relive the hurt now more than ever before.

99% of me doesn’t want the game to happen because I don’t want to feel that pain once more, that 99%of every sinew and receptor does not want another moment to have to re-live.

And yet that 1% won’t give up, it makes my heart beat with every syllable of every battle cry, it stops my breathe with every moment of expectation, it makes me want to shout in an involuntary way, because I know that to be able to live with pain, is to be able to enjoy the pleasure of those once in a lifetime moments.

I know that we will end up where we deserve, on merit, and nothing else. But nothing can stop us dreaming, even the most cynical of us, those whom have known pain, and have sat around that metaphorical poker table, have looked it in the eye and say ‘I’ll take your pain, and raise you elation’, and we know that sometimes it’s a gamble worth taking.

The battle cry’s are all Spooky’s, but know that I will be with you all in spirit, believing that we can do this, in the knowledge and understanding that we may yet have to endure this moment all over again on Sunday, and I am with you not because I chose to, but because I have to. I can’t allow that 99% to stop me from living the possibility of pleasure.

And for those lucky enough to go to the game, know this; that we are all with you, you represent our hopes and dreams on this night, with our hearts collectively beating like warriors, faced with that moment of calm before the battle commences. That audible and visible beat ringing in our ears and thumping our chest, like the drum beat of an army marching forwards into the unknown.

And all we ask of you there on that night, is that you make us proud and ‘dream that impossible dream’.

COYS.

Believe

COYS.

I'm not going to sleep much tonight.

GUDJOHNSEN IN CHELSEA CELEBRATION SHOCKER

By A. Gooner. The Daily Stank - 4th May 2010
 
Tottenham Hotspur fans around the country were today left 'reeling' after astonishing pictures emerged of Icelandic loan striker Eidur Gudjohnsen celebrating Chelsea's win against Liverpool with Frank Lampard and other Blues stars.

The images, absolutely certain to anger boss Harry Redknapp, show the former Chelsea player taking part in a number of damning activities including:
 

• Talking to Chelsea players in the bar
• Smiling as they recounted old title winning times together
• Guzzling a glass of Diet Coke with lemon
• Scoffing expensive bar snacks

 
One on-looker said, "I was just sitting in the bar innocently calling Frank Lampard a fat **** when I saw Eidur join the party. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw him with former friends congratulating them on their victory. These Premier League footballers really have no sense of shame. I took a picture on my phone to show my wife after she came out of the toilets with John Terry."
 
At one stage the party got rowdy as the players started playing their favourite drinking game: "Guess the former Chelsea player" where each person takes it in turn to do an impression of one of their old team mates. Eidur's skit of notorious coke fiend Mark Bosnich (pictured) was particularly popular.
 
Rabbi David Schmutter, chairman of the Tottenham Hotspur Popular Front said, "Oi vay! Why is he spending time with Chelsea players when he could be hanging out with fun-loving Spurs players like Benoit Assou-Ekotto."
 
The story is nailed-on-I-kid-thee-not bound to disrupt Spurs' preparations ahead of their massive game on Wednesday night against Manchester Arab Emirates.

(At least we hope it will)

by guest-blogger Fox Mulder.

It's time for another DVD. Make it a special edition please.

Let's start this off with a quote from our chairman.

Daniel Levy: “The disappointment we shall all feel if we do not make the fourth qualifying spot for Champions League will be a measure of exactly how far we have come.”

I agree with the sentiments. I'll be so gutted I will have to eat a dodgy lasagne for the purpose of distracting me from the emotional pain that would no doubt cause cataclysmic damage to my soul. 2006 was just so daft, it felt like the ending to a black comedy directed by Chris Morris. Food poisoning, final day of the season...it was all ominous and oh so obvious. You just knew it wasn't meant to be. I remember before setting off for the game watching Sky Sports and listening to them break the story about our sick players. Ridiculous. Surely not? Ho hum. If you looked up into the sky you'd have seen red scarf waving by the bearded ones.

There were various points of dejection throughout that season, long before the final day. Many looking back would cite the amount of points dropped in the final minutes of games. 4th spot was lost long before our players spent the afternoon puking up all over the Upton Park pitch. But it was still in our hands to lose. Which we did. But you can't argue against some of the players on the day giving it their all. It just wasn't enough.

What compounded things further (personally) was that night, around midnight, I woke up and proceeded to spend the rest of the early morning vomiting (amongst other things) thanks to...yep, food poisoning. I knew at that point the footballing Gods not only mocked me, they (the bastards) had unzipped and proceeded to piss all over me too. Worst. Day. Ever.

Rather than look back apologetically on similar days of dejection from this season (say for example the score-draw at Goodison) along with one or two other OMG moments, we should just forget and look forward. It's all rather simple.

Win at Eastlands (previous meetings, click here) and it's done and dusted. Draw and we go to Burnley on the final day (yes, they play in Claret and Blue...don't even think about it, right?). Lose that one and we can hardly expect any favours from the other team who play in similar colours.

I'm not loving the parallels if I'm perfectly honest with you. I'd go us far as saying, the footballing Gods (Chris Morris ghost writing for them) are scheming once more to dick us over. The hand of fate aside, choking and bottle jobs are two things that we seem to have overcome fairly well under Harry's guidance. We sometimes stumble and make things difficult for ourselves, but you can't question the team and their unity. It's all in the huddle.

Resolve. Heart. Spirit. Making of our own luck. Belief. It's been a season of growth, progression and consolidation for many of the qualities we aspire to have, that inspire us to push forwards with ambition. And intent to actually climb those steps upwards.

So, to be direct about things, I do not want to lose this game on Wednesday evening. I don't want us coming anywhere near losing it. I don't want to see us buckle under the pressure or give away stupid goals or lose because of a refereeing error. I don't want us to concede an early goal.

Harry has to be smart with his tactics. We all know City have inconsistent form at home in recent games. But this should be ignored. Advantage of being at Eastlands will no doubt see them take responsibility to appease their fans (and manager) by bringing the game to us from the off.

Keep it simple Harry. If King can play, great. If Lennon can start, equally great. Retain Bale on the left wing and Modric and Huddlestone in the middle. But if you believe 5 in midfield will work with counter-attacking football the weapon - then that's fine too. Draft in Palacios. Then consider who (one man) plays upfront. I still say keep it simple, 4-4-2 with all players working their bollocks off, what be a far better attempt of stamping our authority on the game.

Then there's Gomes and his groin. Ooh.

Players just need to be focused regardless who lines-up, as long as players are not asked to play out of position. If we draw, then off we go again into the final day.

City can be got at. I'm sure they feel the same way about us. They have enough ****'s in their team, enough arrogance and self-assurance to give it a right old ding-dong of a go. We have to be strong, and equally so in mind. We need to be clinical ****'s with cutting edge. No remorse. In for the kill.

We need to want this more than anything else.

And I want us to score first. Make them have to come at us for the equaliser. Make them and the home crowd nervous, uneasy. Let the disapproving moans and groans play havoc in the City players psyche, allowing the potential for a second goal.

It's easy when it plays out in your mind. The reality is, nobody knows how exactly this game will pan out. What tempo it will be played at. We might and might not turn up. Tempo wise, we can only hope it's one that suits us. Open and fast, Azza and Bale tormenting the wings. You'd think this will look and feel like a Cup final once the ref blows his whistle. You think, at the very least.

I've said it several times in the past year, we will finish in 4th spot. So it's now time to find out if my belief is shared by our players. And whether my heart is just governing my head. Not sure I really believed it back in 2006. 2010 is altogether a different kind of animal. We're not favourites for a start. We're away.

I have absolutely no doubt that we have turned 'that corner' of mediocrity and transitional seasons and have closed the gap on the failing giants just up ahead of us. Still plenty of work to be done. No matter who gets 4th place, let's not kid ourselves - next season will be even more difficult either way. The likes of Villa and Liverpool and Everton will make sure of that. City will splash money no matter what their fate is. The Prem is opening up wide at the top, faster than Jenna Jameson in her heyday. The monopoly has cracked.

Can we smash it to bits?

I can't wait to find out. I just know CL football means we can attract a world class player, perhaps two. Imagine our side with a player of Torres ilk upfront.

After 2006, to get this close again, our players should just go out there and die (metaphorically obviously) for the shirt. Don't look back at history, lunge forward and grasp what's before you with all your might and make it your own, so that next week, next month, next year...we can look back and say 'that's where the buck was trended'.

It's time for another DVD, lads. Make it a special edition please.

COME ON YOU SPURS.

To dare is to f*cking do. 

Superfan

Win it.

Superfan: The Amazing Life of Morris Keston.

Get on this. Cracking read for several reasons. If you don't know who this esteemed Spurs fan is (he's only missed two games in 70 years - beat that) then you've probably never read The Glory Game (shame on you). He's got a chapter to himself in that classic, and now we have the pleasure of reading his stories and anecdotes in this essential publication.

Morris, bless him, befriended Spurs players by following them around, sitting next to them on the bus (the irony being that later on the players chased him around and wanted to befriend him). I've tried that myself, although, obviously Spurs players no longer use buses, and it's a bit difficult to explain to a modern day footballer what you're doing laying across the back seat of their car or welcoming them into their own home whilst sat on their sofa.

There's nothing quaint and innocent about modern day football I'm afraid. What this book illustrates best is a chapter in time when things were a little more accessible. Not that Morris and company didn't know how to party. 60's being the 60's. And to think he even flirted with the position of chairman at WHL.

And if the glory days and the World Cup is not enough for you, add Muhammad Ali and Sinatra to the mix. Yes, Morris Keston. Businessman. Fund-raiser. Spurs fan. Massive personality. Story-teller. Just like our beloved club, never a dull moment.

Damn it, imagine how good his blog would have been had the internet been around back then? But don't fret, this is the next best thing.

So, I'm thinking rather than a caption competition we try 'best footballing anecdote'. Doesn't have to be something related to you having met someone famous within the game, but I'm sure all of you have a story to tell yourselves having gone to the Lane and beyond in your lifetimes.

So post your entry in the comments section below and click here to see the current entries.

COYS.

Superfan published by Vision Sports Publishing on the 3rd May 2010, RRP £12.99.

Morris Keston on Twitter.

It's time for redemption

Some thoughts, stats etc...

White Hart Lane

6 league wins on the trot, 8 in all competitions. Only 12 goals conceded at home all season (Prem). The Stoke, Hull and Wolves games particularly frustrating. Those aside, only Manchester United this season have visited and left with more than a goal to their name. You have go back 36 times since we lost by more than one. Staggering feat. Not quite the finished fortress, but only a few more bricks required and a coat of paint. We've made it difficult at times by not taking guilt-edged chances, so I would expect us to push onwards next season and consolidate home possession by doing what we did to the likes of Wigan and Burnley more often. Could have had a decent DVD out of the Chelsea game had we shown definitive cutting edge.

But there is no major complaint. We have restored pride, the team are confident and impose themselves with style. Our home form is superb.

Bolton game

It's a tricky one this. Did we make things difficult for ourselves by not taking our chances? Perhaps. But I thought Bolton (credit to them) turned up with those party pooper hats on doing their utmost to ruin our day. Which makes the win and three points even better. Sure, we were not quite at our best and yes, it took a wonder-goal from Huddlestone, but that's how things work out sometimes. You dig deep, survive, and lap up those moments of genius. We had to win, no matter the performance. And we did, and that's all that matters. Credit to Gomes, King and Dawson for their defending. Warriors. Although at times it was full-on heart-in-mouth desperation. Gomes groin problem, surely a consequence of sleeping with the vast majority of the Park Lane WAGS. Talking of defending, I haven't forgotten...

Kaboul

Some say, he stood 8 foot tall, as wide as a truck with eyes made of fire with the strength of a hundred men. He was here, there and everywhere. A force of nature so strong that no mere mortal dared to approach. Seriously, wtf? Where did this performance came from? Nice one. Good work fella.

Other stuff from the Bolton game

Defoe and offsides. I honestly think this is a lost cause now. He just doesn't grasp the concept of standing level.

Lennon. Lovely. Nice to have him back. Please please please torment City on Wednesday.

Goal-scoring. Lack of. We seem to have a squad of players who can all score but strikers who make the art of scoring look as difficult as standing on your own feet for more than 10 seconds at a time if your name is Drogba. They (Pav, JD and Crouch...and EG too) have to get it together. One chance - one goal. Let's leave the Andy Coles behind for the final two games.

Bale. Still a beast when played on the left-wing. Let him be.

King

Hands up if you think he'll be playing on Wed too? Has it happened before this season? King playing in a Saturday game and then a mid-week game? I'm sure it has, at least I'm not alone in thinking this, although I (we) might be wrong. Any stattos out there willing to confirm or debunk?* On the subject of Wednesday and selection - it's a massive one for Harry. Does he stick or twist?

I say stick.

*Last season he played against Udinese on the Thursday and then Bolton on the Sunday which was Redknapp's first game. Still uncertain if he achieved a similar feat in the Prem.

Match of the Day

Lineker winding up Hansen. Excellent.

Wednesday

Cup final. £30M+ Champions League play-off. Epic game, one which we find ourselves in because we deserve to be in it. We have survived the initial hype early season, we survived the spankings dished out by three of the top four, we survived the hiccups and disappointments, and each time we hit a brick wall, we took a step back then leaped over it. We are sitting in 4th place because we are currently the 4th best team in the country. Two more games, the one at Eastlands in particular, will define our season and conslidate the hard work and graft.

Sure, yes, few expected deep down, to find ourselves in this position because we sort of half-believed that cracking the Top 4 was impossible. But Liverpool have imploded and we along with others have closed the gap. So to be in this position now - hand on heart - I don't want to be standing in front of you all on Thursday morning saying, 'Jolly good show, there's always next season'. And yes, next season we'll be challenging for the Top 4 again, I have no doubt in that. But to be this close, it will be too hard a pill to swallow to miss out.

The challenge (next season) can be improved tenfold further by claiming 4th this season and entering the big boys playground for the first time. City will no doubt want this as much as us. They know CL next season will short cut their efforts in challenging for the title, bringing that realisation sooner to them. Which is another reason why we have to cut short their dream and see ours out.

Let's no forget. The pressure we are under is equally felt by Manchester City.

It's time for redemption. 2006. Bury it once and for all.

The Amazing Life of Morris Keston - Win the book, click here.

The Amazing Life of Morris Keston - Win the book

Happy Birthday DML. Three years today. Look, I'm not much good at big speeches, and I know I haven't always been an easy guy to get on with. And I know that, given the choice, I probably wouldn't have chosen you as friends. But, I just want to say... that over the years... I have come to regard you... as... people... I met.

So, er, to celebrate this momentous occasion and the countless court injunctions and community service served stalking Daniel Levy, it's competition time. Nope, sadly I won't be giving away Chirpy's head (it's exhibit 4 I'm afraid) but I've got something better. Superfan: The Amazing Life of Morris Keston.

Get on this. Cracking read for several reasons. If you don't know who this esteemed Spurs fan is (he's only missed two games in 70 years - beat that) then you've probably never read The Glory Game (shame on you). He's got a chapter to himself in that classic, and now we have the pleasure of reading his stories and anecdotes in this essential publication.

Morris, bless him, befriended Spurs players by following them around, sitting next to them on the bus (the irony being that later on the players chased him around and wanted to befriend him). I've tried that myself, although, obviously Spurs players no longer use buses, and it's a bit difficult to explain to a modern day footballer what you're doing laying across the back seat of their car or welcoming them into their own home whilst sat on their sofa.

There's nothing quaint and innocent about modern day football I'm afraid. What this book illustrates best is a chapter in time when things were a little more accessible. Not that Morris and company didn't know how to party. 60's being the 60's. And to think he even flirted with the position of chairman at WHL.

And if the glory days and the World Cup is not enough for you, add Muhammad Ali and Sinatra to the mix. Yes, Morris Keston. Businessman. Fund-raiser. Spurs fan. Massive personality. Story-teller. Just like our beloved club, never a dull moment.

Damn it, imagine how good his blog would have been had the internet been around back then? But don't fret, this is the next best thing.

So, I'm thinking rather than a caption competition we try 'best footballing anecdote'. Doesn't have to be something related to you having met someone famous within the game, but I'm sure all of you have a story to tell yourselves having gone to the Lane and beyond in your lifetimes.

So post your entry in the comments section. I'll let it run for a week, then announce the winner and get the book sent out. Good luck.

COYS.

Superfan is published by Vision Sports Publishing on the 3rd May 2010, RRP £12.99.

Morris Keston on Twitter.

Tot-ting-ham

Tot-ten-ham [Tot-ting-ham]

-adjective

1. conceived or appearing as if conceived by an unrestrained torment; unbearable but yet remarkable; bizarre, heart-stopping, emotional: It was tottenham but I got through it okay.

2. fanciful but yet frustrating, as persons or their ideas or actions: We never know what that tottenham creature will do next.

3. imaginary or groundless in not being based on reality; foolish, delusional or irrational: I have tottenham fears.

4. extravagantly fanciful; full of swagger, never dull or boring; roller-coaster at any given moment without warning; beautiful, majestic, yet never far from abject face-palming: It was an absolute tottenham but I'd never have it any other way.

5. incredibly great or extreme; exorbitant: to spend tottenham sums of money.

6. highly unrealistic or impractical; outlandish: a tottenham scheme to make an impossible dream reality.

7. Informal. extraordinarily good: that was fantastical, it was tottenham. 

Origin:

1882, Tottenham Marshes, however the true essence of the word was birthed in the 50's, becoming everlastingly prominent in the early 1960's.

-Synonyms

1. SPURS shares a sense of deviation from what is normal or expected. SPURS suggests a wild lack of restraint, a fancifulness so extreme as to lose touch with reality: a spurs scheme for room on the trophy cabinet for silverware. In informal use, SPURS often means simply "exceptionally good when on game, exceptionally stressful all other times": That job interview was a bit spurs.

Two games left. I still believe.

COYS.