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

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

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

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

Gone a bit pear-shaped

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

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

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

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

"Tottenham!"

Simply put; beat Blackpool, finish Top Four.

Drama.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mind your step on the ladder.

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

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

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

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

Of course it's frigging important.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hiccups? Hold your breath.

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

 

Five minute update

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Elsewhere:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peace. Out.

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Me like Meelan

Hello and apologies to all resident regulars and Levyists. It's that time of year where I might find myself sporadically posting if and when I have the chance to do so thanks to the commitments of Christmas and the seasonal festivities of food, drink and drink. Baby Jesus would approve.

There's hardly that much going on at the moment (transfer target nonsense does not count) other than looking forward to the Xmas fixtures, if they take place. What with snowfall dominating this past weekend we might be in for some more. Took me an hour and a half to get from Bath to Paddington and then four or so hours to somehow navigate my way through the decimated London underground labyrinth. At one point I was so lost I half expected David Bowie to appear out of nowhere, mocking me whilst dancing whimsically. Alas, he didn't, but there were still plenty of muppets standing at the barriers dishing out mis-information about the best route home.

Snow. It's unforgiving and shows no mercy. Cheeky bid? Could do with some of that up front. Talking of which, no game at Blackpool (one of many postponed). Spurs fans who travelled, one or two stayed over thanks to their hotel bookings and enjoyed a night out. Apparently the pitch was good to go in terms of playability (by how much I'm not sure) but the police deemed it all a bit of a risk in terms of safety. Which is fine, gives one or  two players further room for recovery in time for next weekend and the New Year and eliminates playing on a surface that could have given us more knocks. Although there is plenty of debate about people (i.e. fans) being more than capable of travelling to and from a location (i.e. the game) much like people who went to work or travelled for non-footballing matters over the weekend. Spurs fans still went out Saturday night and travelled home the next night, so…ah, it doesn't matter does it? The slush around Bloomfield Road obviously of dangerous ilk. And us simple folk are not to be trusted in numbers.

So up next, weather permitting?

Villa away, Newcastle at home, Fulham at home, Everton away. Four games. 12 points please. Season defining this run of games. I say this in jest because everybody knows that this season is hardly one where sides are building up momentum over 5-10 games. Doesn't mean I can't ask for the moon on a stick, what with it being the time of year when Santa delivers to those that have been good. And we have been very good. Santa, if you're reading, two things. Firstly, never red son, never red. You'd look dapper in white and blue. Secondly, please unload your sack at the Lane. Specifically on the 16th Jan when Manchester United visit.

12 points. Plus an additional three. Equals 15. Moon on a stick? I want Howard Webb on a stick, roasting over a winter bonfire.

One early Crimbo present already on our lap and unwrapped consisted of a plum tie in the first round of knock-out games in the Champions League. Meelan. Away then at home.

Ibra, Pato, Pirlo, Robinho, Ronaldihno, Cassano, Flamini, Kevin Prince Boateng etc etc

Oh wait up.

Pato (I think) is injured. Robinho is the very very short Brazilian version of Peter Crouch (good with his feet rubbish in the air ) but arguably better dance moves. Cassano is decent when he isn't a mentalist which is always. Ronaldihno is more Jar Jar Binks than he is original Ronaldihno and apparently on his way back to Brasil. Flamini? Really? Okay so he's not bad but if we're going to worry about his pace along with the electricity of KPB, we may as well default now.

Inzaghi is injured and could be forced into early retirement at the young age of 37, so sadly no Battle Royal between him and tag team partner Jermain Defoe doubling up against the sly and mischievous offside trap.

Not that I'm dismissing AC Milan. Far from it. One word. Zlatan. Well actually more than one word: Best team in Serie A currently who might not have a great home record (1 W 5 D 3 L) in Europe but are better on their travels (3 W 4 D 2 L). Would much prefer a side we are not expected to beat than one we are expected to beat. The Spurs way. Rather them than a lesser side where complacency might eat us up.

For me, this is the definitive learning curve of our European adventure. You'd expect them to watch a few DVD's, do their homework and do a number on us, exterminating our plucky efforts. You'd expect them to. So do we play to our strengths or play to their weaknesses? Enter the empty clipboard and 'arry.

Looking forward to vdV v Zlatan. Gareth Bale back to the arena where he was invented up against their not as decent as Macion fullback - this could be tasty. All eyes on their deep lying playmaker conductor Pirlo. All eyes on our midfield line-up. No choke in the San Siro. Heads up and focus.

Prediction? Narrow defeat away. Glory Glory night back at the Lane. It's going to be epic. Because the alternative (a spanking or that predicated professional extermination many neutrals and the pessimistic amongst us are whispering) would be disappointing, be it no massive disgrace.

15th and 9th of Feb are the dates to pencil in. If you're wondering, it's Sunderland away on the 12th Feb and FA Cup weekend on the 18th followed by Wolves away on the 5th March (with another FA Cup weakened after it). Busy days, happy days.

I have more to share, but I'll leave it for another pocket of opportunity.