Ain't no pleasing you

guest-blog by Chris King

When is it no longer acceptable to complain? To moan about a service provided, an experience gained or an attitude presented to you?

What makes it unacceptable? Do you have to take in to consideration everything that has gone before – to apply a “mus’n’ grumble” attitude to everything you do – as hey, there is always going to be someone far worse off than you; someone below you – way below you.

When do you hand over your right to complain? As soon as UEFA doles out their 30 pieces of TV silver; or does it go back further than that – to Eastlands last term, to when Harry signed, to when Jason Dozzell went back east?

This is the picture currently being presented to Spurs fans – fans who feel they want to exercise their right to politely point out where the team has gone wrong over the last couple of months. To comment, complain even criticise (lick windows and howl at the moon as some in the media are suggesting us “nutters” do). Yet we are being reliably informed that we are clueless; that we have no right to moan about this past season – as this is the best it has ever been (since circa Sky and all that).

Swallow your penance, shut up and accept your lot.

But what if you are one of those book learning types; you know – those that can read. Can look at a set of results, the names in a squad; understand maths sufficiently well to add up points that could (read: should) have been gained against those clubs below yours. What if you then came to the conclusion that all was not right? That something had gone wrong; horribly wrong – and the slight swagger you presented to the world back in March – was now a hunched shuffle, which had you sloping back in to the pack – to where most believe you truly belong.

City beating us was no great shock last night – eggs, paper bags, and the geek’s even nerdy dad could have Spurs in a rumble right about now. Yet if you read twitter last night, or skimmed through the obituaries – sorry – I mean match reports this morning - you’d think we were just popping off cloud nine for a pint of milk, a decent keeper; and we’ll be back amongst the big boys before next season was but a few weeks old.

It was official – we weren’t allowed to complain. We weren’t allowed to pluck figures like one win in 10 (I appreciate it’s more, I just like round figures) out of the cold, hard facts. We weren’t allowed to comment on the apparent lack of desire at times against West Ham, West Brom or Blackpool. 

We weren’t allowed to question the tactical acumen applied to the team selection in those game, or last night – or the switches made, and the personnel introduced. 

Unbeknown to Spurs fans, a new law was passed across the land placing the penalty of treason on any negative comments directed at the Red Top’s new “King of Hearts”. Harry is lauded as a very good manager who had a bad run with a few dodgy decisions, sendings off, injuries – it was always someone else’s fault.

But what if we want to complain? What’s stopping us?

Well there’s the ever so slightly patronising undertone that we’ve been shockingly bad for so long that, To Dare – is apparently above us. We should be happy with the fact that we’ve beaten AC and Inter Milan – we’ve had a run in the Champions League that no one expected of us, and that we took our beating against Madrid like men.

If there’s a Spurs fan out there that can’t find a positive from the season, then there is a little more than something wrong with them – and in fairness, to those baying for Harry’s head, only Vicente del Bosque would get the sack after some of our European results this term – but there is no disputing that our season was derailed sometime in March – and if we can’t moan, then at least let us ask why it all went so wrong?

I don’t buy in to the notion that the European experience did for us. We’ve been all over clubs at times – West Ham at home, City home and away – and what have we got to show for it? If we can’t criticise Harry, do we point the finger of blame at Dear Mr Levy? – who is so cunning in his transfer bargaining that he left us a striker light, and gave us Pieenar – a player who appears to have left what form he had, back up in Liverpool – no doubt a victim of that gang that targets the prized possessions of their local players.

But we can’t moan – nor question. So what do we do? We do what all Spurs fans do at such times, we argue with each other. If no one is prepared to listen, we find someone to at least shout over the top of on the same subject matter; though for once, we all seem to be shouting the same things.

No Journos will return our tweets, opposition fans only see the folly in our arguments – we’re no longer the darlings – back to being the overly expectant, laughing stock we’ve been since the ‘80s.

If last season delivered the earth, this season promised the moon and the stars as well. There was, daft as it now seems - the faint glimmer that we might even be the club to take the title race in to May. Looking at our last 13 league games, the teams we’ve played and the points we dropped – would it really have been so daft?

Though I guess it is not really our fault. United, Chelsea and Arsenal are where they supposedly belong – City have bought their place at the top table, and Liverpool – well, they’re just the Liverpool of old; same efficiency, same manager, same reliance on the back pass to the keeper. So if it feels like we robbed ourselves of glory; chances are it just wasn’t meant to be.

So if you feel like moaning – ask yourself a few questions: are we better than we were under Francis? Have we enjoyed some fantastic European nights down the lane this term? If the Red Tops want Harry for England, surely he’s still the man for us, right? If we’d have won half of those last 13 games, would we be back in the Champions League next year?

Actually, don’t ask that last question; it’ll only cause you to question, to moan….. To ultimately, be wrong!

Chris King, a regular on the old Shelf and held a season ticket in the Park Lane Upper. He now lives in Leeds, where he spends most Saturdays trying to teach his daughter the words to Spurs’ songs. Writes for In Bed with Maradona and his own blog Northern Writes.

Things to get you through a weekend without Tottenham

Does the International break bore you?

England are playing this weekend. Am I the only person who finds it all a bit of a bore when there are no Tottenham games to go to or watch on TV? Don't get me wrong, I'm as patriotic as the next fan...but only for qualifying games and tournaments (when we actually manage to get there).

Friendlies never get my juices flowing. If I can't shout, scream and generally have my emotions soar, dip and ripped apart then it's not really football. Something needs to be at risk. And I don't find pride is when its just a warm-up match. Even if it's in preparation for an important game (next Wednesday) against the Ukraine. Saturday's (against Slovakia) still a friendly. A glorified training session.

Yes I know, Aaron Lennon might play, and if he does well he might (just might) make an appearance next week. Although if you take a quick look at the Beckham feature article on the BBC site you'll note that he has every chance (Becks that is) of playing as Walcott and SWP are not in the squad.

Cough? Forgotten someone perhaps?

And with the debate about whether King should have or should not have been called up by Fabio dragging on and on (you honestly think 'arry isn't going to talk about it some more?), I can't help but look ahead to our next Prem game against Blackburn. Proper bread and butter football.

I don't have Setanta at home and the local pub that shows live games is usually full of West Ham fans who will no doubt be out in numbers carrying around replicas of the Jules Rimet and banging on about '66 and celebrating in the streets that they invented modern day football.

I'd rather avoid it all tbh. But will definitely make the effort for the Ukraine game. For sure.

So to get me through Saturday, I've devised a list of potential activities to help me avoid the overwhelming boredom that would otherwise consume me. Feel free to suggest your own.

1) Work out the points accumulated in the opening eight games under Ramos and then calculate the points accumulated by Harry Redknapp from the time of his appointment till the present day and based on Harry's points to games ratio, work out where we would be had he been manager at the start of the season. Then device a What If Premier League table that will have us within touching distance of a Champions League place and then work out whether we can claim 4th spot based on our remaining fixtures and who we would need to buy in the summer to help consolidate the challenge domestically and in Europe. Then post all my findings and analysis on a Tottenham message board and watch it grow to 100 pages in a day with around 3000 replies. Just for kicks.

2) Throw eggs at the home of the person who wears the current Chirpy mascot outfit at home games. WE DON'T LIKE YOU. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? I want the original Chirpy back. The one that doesn't look he's possessed by a demon with a smug Adam Sandler complex.

3) Watch my Sky+ recording of the Arsenal v Spurs 4-4, replaying the final 10 minutes several times to catch the various reactions of the Spurs players and the fans - specifically at the point before and after Lennon equalizes. Then using my TV capture card, create a montage video of the glorious evening with Tina Turners 'Simply the Best' as the soundtrack. Then upload to Facebook and Youtube and then update Twitter every 5 minutes, linking to the video, and posting inane hilarity about how busy the London Underground was this morning and what I had for lunch.

4) Begin legal proceedings to sue West Ham United. The other day I had what I can only assume was a very dodgy lasagna which blatantly gave me the runs and a chronic gut. This resulted in a Vietnamesque flashback in a packed shopping centre - ala Sgt. Elias - falling to my knees, hands aloft, screaming in agony at the returning realisation of how close we came to a dream qualification into the elite of European football. A dream destroyed by a Benayoun top corner finish.

As nobody was ever charged or held accountable for poisoning the Spurs team, and as West Ham were the opposition that day and inflicted the defeat on a side ravaged by ill health, they remain the only ones responsible for my emotional upheaval that resurfaced in such an undignified and public way.

I'm after a reasonable pay-out. Equivalent to what Spurs lost in Champions League revenue. That should cover the trauma and rehabilitation.

5) Walk up to random strangers and state '2 points, 8 games'. The message must be spread to the non-believers.

6) Go round my parents for lunch and refuse to sit down on the sofa. If my dad manages to talk me into sitting down because I'm making everyone feel uncomfortable, I will do so. Then wait until he walks away, then stand up and burst into song: 'Stand up if you love mums cooking, stand up......'.

7) Travel up to Manchester, sneak into Dimitar Berbatov's back garden and then use my state-of-the-art tranquilizer gun to shoot all the squirrels in the vicinity. Who you gonna feed now, Berba? Hey? Who you gonna feed now?

8) Watch my Sky+ recording of the Spurs v Chelsea 1-0. Then using my TV capture card, create a montage video of Modric and his performance, to the music of 'Diamond Lights'. In addition, morph highlights of Moddle into highlights of Hoddle, subtly suggesting that Modric is the new King of the Lane. Then upload to Facebook and Youtube and then update Twitter every 5 minutes to make sure people are fully aware that I'm 'online', either sat in front of a pc or texting updates via my mobile phone.

9) Search through all Bit Torrent sites and Newsgroups for a soft copy version of the Tottenham Hotspur Opus. Come on! Surely someone must have scanned this and uploaded it to the internet? You can find practically anything on-line. Whether it's DC or Marvel comics, books, novels, screenplays, about a million PDF's and random user-guides, every piece of software, music, pornography and movie you can possibly imagine......but no bleeding Opus? Further proof that nobody has actually bought a copy, because if let's say 10 people purchased one, at least one of them would have shared this with the www. It's 2009 ffs. People don't even bother buying Playboy anymore, they just wait for some else to scan and upload it. So I'm told.

10) Stand near the living room window, and pretend I've got Setanta by booing every few minutes. People walking past will assume Ashley Cole is playing shit. And this will bring much joy to the world.