It's how we roll

Spurs 4 Liverpool 2

Spurs were lucky to score four goals, all from defensive errors, and Liverpool should have won, but were cheated out of the game by the ref and Gareth Bale pretending to tackle when in fact he committed a cynical foul. But enough about what Liverpool fans thought of the game.

In all fairness, gloating should be kept to a minimum based on the fact that this wasn’t a full strength Reds side. We've already beaten that version.

So, yes, they made 10 changes and played their reserves. And yes, we made 7 changes (no King, Woodgate, Jenas, Bent, Modric, Bentley etc) and used other first team players. Is it our fault we appear to have better depth for these type of occasions? Even the Prince had time to come on and show-off a little. This wasn't our strongest side, but having Hoddlestone centre midfield, spraying balls all over the pitch (ooh) and the team pushing forward with intent, purpose and < insert other buzz words to help illustrate how decent we were on the night > helped make this even more comfortable.

Let's not forget a few years back (Fredi's handball) losing on pens to a team of Liverpool reserves. No mistake this time out. They weren’t up for it. We were and nobody is going to frown at 3 goals in 6 minutes of frantic play, and ending up eventual 4-2 winners. Their goals weren’t even proper goals. Early Christmas presents thanks largely to the flapping and mistiming of our calamity keeper, Gomes (they could argue the same about ours). Though credit to his bravery later on that saw him leave the field on a stretcher, but apparently (according to ‘arry) was well enough to grab a post-match Chinese with some of the other players. Sadly, he’s available for Fulham away.

Campbell looked electric, teaming up with Pav. Both shared the goals on a night that even witnessed several Ole, Ole, Ole moments as we passed the ball around. Got to love the over-excitability of the home crowd. Quarter-finals next. Chelsea knocked out by Burnley, so we’ll get Man Utd away no doubt. While The Kids© will get another home tie.

This win made it the best start to a Spurs reign by a newly appointed manager. You have to go back 110 years to a certain Frank Brettell (what, you’ve never heard of him?) to find a better record. All this after our worst start to a season ever.

Never a boring second supporting this lot.

Liverpool @ home

Another exhibition match on the cards for the Wenger Babes, thanks to the traditional warm ball, with Wigan next in line to experience stage fright in this season Carling Cup. Whilst over at WHL, Spurs get knocked out by a Robbie Keane brace.

Hail the Carling Cup.

Spurs win the Desperation Derby

Newcastle 1 Spurs 2

Sorry for the delay in posting this blog. I've been out celebrating our win. Only just got back.

Cough.

Worst game ever? Possibly, at least when referring to the opening 45 mins. Two teams devoid of direction and confidence, labouring towards sleep paralysis. I switched off after 20mins, fleetingly going back to the game in the vein hope of something. Anything. This was the de-evolution of football, live on Sky Sports - with additional anti-Spurs commentary by their resident pro-Arsenal commentator.

Oh yes. We were shit. But somehow, getting the brunt of the negativity simply because we had more of the possession is a tad mis-placed. Enough of the sympathy for Newcastle, who were kicking lumps out of us. Feel free to laugh at them.

Our tactic was far more subtle. We moved sideways and backwards. It's like we've had the imagination drained out of us. Lobotomised and useless. But then when the 19th team in the Prem host the 20th - that's crisis club v bottom of the lot - a 'classic' is the least expected outcome. This was bad non-league football on display. And if neutrals were not switching off the 19,000 who turned up to see this were regretting not staying away.

Gio livened things up when he came on. He defied the world of footballing science (as displayed by us and the opposition) by moving 'forwards' with the ball. Revolutionary! Pav notched up a goal. O'Hara deserved his fortunate 'winner' for the effort he put in. Lennon again was full of purpose. So there were some positives.

But all we did was beat a poor team. We didn't thrash them. Or out play them. Or swagger. We did enough to win. As ugly as it was.

Play like this at Pompey and we might just get smacked. Yes I know they have been spanked recently, and we have a decent record down there, but we really aren't very good at the moment.

How many Spurs players do you have in your fantasy football team?

Exactly.

Carling Cup preview

Not sure what to expect this evenings Carling Cup spectacle at St James Park. The two Premiership comedy clubs clash in what will either be a laugh-a-minute 'how not to defend' circus of calamity or the game that ignites the season for us or them. Apart from a 1-0 win a few years ago, we don't tend to beat them up there. We prefer to lose, and usually lose heavily.

The fact that Chris Hughton is looking after things whilst Ashley attempts to fix the mess he's created, makes it doubly potentially embarrassing if Ramos is out-witted by the former Spurs man.

So strongest team on paper?

Gomes
Gunter King* Woodgate Bale
Bentley Jenas O'Hara Lennon
Modric
Bent

*Corluka in place of King, depending on how bad his knee is this week

I haven't included Pav in that line-up because the lad needs a rest. That's what you get for paying £14M for a striker who's already played several months of the Russian league season.

So, our strongest side is a side with little physical presence in the midfield. No left winger - in fact the left side isn't the strongest (with Bale in defence and Lennon on the opposite side to where he should be). Bentley, is on the right, but will his deliveries meet the head or feet of Bent?

Modric is back in full training, so I don't expect him to play this evening, which means we might be looking at:

Gomes
Gunter King/Corluka Woodgate Bale
Bentley Jenas O'Hara Lennon
Campbell Bent

No matter who he opts with - its imperative that Lennon starts and Lennon is used as our main outlet of forwardism. Attack, attack, attack. Give the ball to the imp and just make bloody sure you're in the box to deflect a cross into the goal, with arse or foot, it doesn't matter.

With Martins back for Newcastle (4 played, 4 wins, 4 goals - against us), its all looking ominous. Historically, we are soft when we play them in front of their home crowd (although not sure how many will bother to turn up to watch this game).

Maybe we should play the kids. Works for Arsenal, should work for us, right? Right?

Jansson
Gunter Dervite Dawson Berchiche
Taarabt O'Hara Bostock
Dos Santos
Campbell Barcham

I reckon that team could beat our first team handsomely. Jossy's Giants could beat our first team handsomely. Christ, this is grim. Let's look on the bright side. This is the best start we've had in years. The table speaks for itself, no? We are only three points behind Man Utd.

Glory!

The Didier Zokora Cup Final

Chelsea 1 Tottenham 2 aet

There was a moment in this game that had me jumping around, screaming out to the heavens muttering the same word over and over and over again.

Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why.

Why Zokora? Of all the players to find himself running towards the goal, why does it have to be him? Didier, bless him, makes Steffen Freund look like Thierry Henry. But then he isn’t a goal-scoring midfielder. Even when he managed to find Cech’s head rather than the goal, he failed to compose himself and lay the ball to Berbatov or better still, find the target with the second opportunity presented to him.

See, these are the moments that pretty much define Spurs.

If only.
Almost.
Nearly.
So close.

The cruel irony is that the player who run from midfield is the one player that you know won’t be able to do what you oh so want him to do. But it was at this very moment that I had an epiphany.

Chelsea had done practically nothing all game. And rather seeing this assessment from a typical Spurs point of view, being ‘we’re gonna fuck it up’, I saw the game through the eyes of a neutral. Just for that one all-seeing moment.

There was nothing to suggest Chelsea would get something from the match. Spurs were in their ascendency. And I could see it. But before we get to this part of the game, let’s go back to the start. The opening 45 were ominous to say the least. My epiphany at this point in time was nothing but a sperm casually backstroking towards the egg.

We started brightly and created chances, but Drogba’s insistence at taking centre stage with his theatrics proved to be the dramatic catalyst for the wrong kind of breakthrough. This was Drogba’s no country for real men, and with each pathetic fall to the ground, it made me wish for an air-powered cattle gun. Yet another collapse to the ground, this time 30 yards out was definitely a free-kick, and the irony wasn’t lost on anyone.

What followed was a quirk that was probably noticed instantly by Ramos (mistakes like this are avoidable). A complete mess of a wall, built with Marmite rather than cement. Not only was it in the wrong place, but the fact King and Robinson failed to orchestrate some kind of organisation was unnerving. You could see exactly what Drogba was going to do. He tried it earlier. This time it was an open invitation. We hate it, they loved it. Drogba shots and scores. Robinson hardly moves. This time not because of consumption of pie, but rather the fact that even if he did dive in the general direction of where the ball was placed he wouldn’t even get there in time with rockets on his boots.

1-0 to them and much biting of nails insured.

One highlight from the first 45 minutes involved the Chelsea fans rising to sing a chorus of ‘Stand up if you hate Tottenham’. The Spurs fans stood up and sang ‘Stand up if you hate Arsenal’. The Chelsea faithful should really do their best to look elsewhere for that defining rivalry.

During half-time I wondered if this was going to be one of those disappointing days where efficient Chelsea do enough to stifle the game into a non-glamorous victory in their favour.

At this point I was worried. Goes without say I was enjoying the occasion, but I suddenly got sickeningly nervous of losing. Yeah sure, it’s the Carling Cup. The lickle half-breed cousin of the FA Cup. But this was Chelsea, and losing to them (and fucking ‘ell have we done a lot of that in recent years) is just not a feeling I choose to experience anymore. I hate it. I hate it more than losing to Arsenal. It’s like losing to Fulham. Why the fuck would you accept losing to Fulham?

Then there’s the fact that it’s a ticket back into the UEFA Cup. It’s not the ideal way in but it’s on offer. And with our bad start to the season costing us any true chance of finishing top 6, this is the dream ticket.

And finally, its silverware. You know. That thing other teams outside the top 4 sometimes manage to flirt with on the odd occasion the second-string eleven don’t make it through to the final. Makes the honours list look not too shabby either. What’s good for the goose...

Winning it would also make it number 15 in Cup competitions won domestically and in Europe (only Utd and Liverpool have won more). Call it just rewards for the progress made by Ramos in the short months he has been here or proof that we don’t choke when it matters. A medal of honour.

So back with the sickeningly nervous feeling, I couldn’t shake. And onto the second half.

“Huddlestone has to come on”, my mate commented.
“I can’t see where a Spurs goal is gonna come from”, I informed him a few minutes earlier.

And then Hudd came on. For Chimbonda. I burst several veins in my forehead screaming abuse at Pascal the Mercenary who was disgraceful in the ungracious manner he walked off the pitch. No urgency, no care in the world other than his vanity. And off he went down the tunnel. It’s bitterly disappointing he wasn’t sold in the January transfer window.

So with the skinny demure Hudd on, things began to change a little. A disguised pass here and there. Lennon, who might as well have been in Faces during the first half, began to show a little spark. And as I thought back to my comment about not seeing where we would score from, we go and win a penalty. Didn’t think of that one. The decision was never in doubt. Juggling the ball isn’t controversial imo. It’s nailed on, ball on the spot.

The sickeningly nervous feeling turned into a haemorrhage. Up steps Berbatov. Some Spurs fans run down to the bottom of the aisle and look upwards to the fans, preferring to watch the crowd reaction rather than the actual penalty.

Up steps the Bulgarian and in one majestically cool second we are level. Pandemonium at long last. And that little bit of hope is embracing us.

Tainio on for Steed. And Spurs continue to press and push and the tempo is now where it should be. Pace with movement and purpose. Chelsea are disjointed in comparison. Anelka isolated with zero chemistry between him and Drogba, or anyone else for that matter.

Lampard unable to control a midfield bossed by Jenas and Zokora. Jole Cole on the bench. Woodgate and King in complete command at the back for us. It’s not quite a walk in the park. More of a brisk jog with a poodle chasing behind you. But you know it’s never gonna catch up, let alone bit you on the arse. Although at this point, I still had nightmares of the poodle ripping its way through my gut like an Alien.

And then, the sperm completes its journey and my epiphany is born. The precise moment this happens is when Zokora runs through towards goal with Cech being the only person standing in the way of folklore. And you know what happens next. And nobody can believe it even though the outcome was exactly what we all knew would play out.

But when I held my head up away from my hands, I knew that this miss would not go down in history as a testament of why we always seem to fail when it matters. What had Chelsea done in the game that would lead me to believe they could go on to win it? As a Spurs fan you’d automatically think it’s more likely to be us who give something away or make a mistake. But without anchoring myself to what I would normally expect in that oh so classic defeatist manner, I was free to see the facts.

Chelsea were fucking shit and had no hope in hell of beating us. I was enlightened.

Extra-time. Jenas, not for the first time this season floats in a perfect cross and Woodgate, the most unlikely of heroes nods the ball, which is palmed back onto Woody’s face and into the net. Silk finish, it was not. But when you’ve seen Gary Mabbut score an own goal, you don’t tend to be picky about the quality of a winning goal.

It was a strange moment in the stands, at least where I was. There was almost a delay in celebrations. Fraction of a second if that. The initial header and its journey away from Cech and into Woodgate seemed to take an age. When the ball crossed the line it was Pandemonium Part II.

Keane limped off. Kaboul trotted on. Chelsea huffed and puffed without really scaring us too much, though that’s thanks to a decent stop from Robinson.

When Zokora completed his brace and overplayed a ball to Lennon that would have surely settled it beyond doubt, there was still way too much tension in the Spurs end. Not helped by David Copperfield who plucked out 3 injury time minutes to be added onto the end of the second half of extra time.

One of the best moments of the game was TT wasting time with a throw-on (good to see Spurs are finally learning to do this when it matters) and earning a yellow-card, only for Drogba to come running onto the scene to berate TT, wasting more of the precious time Chelsea had left.

And then the final whistle and 9 sodding piss poor fruitless years come to an end, and for the sixth decade on the trot our players have winner’s medals.

And we got to laugh at Drogba’s complaining to their bitter end.

Who would have ever predicated Jonathan Woodgate scoring the winning goal in a Cup Final for Spurs? Effortlessly brilliant at the back, I pray he stays fit. Same for Ledley.

Jenas and Zokora were superb in the middle of the park. Berbatov, worked hard....in fact, apart from Chimbonda, I don’t have too many complaints.

Maybe had we beaten Bolton or Boro in the final (no disrespect to either of them) then this wouldn’t mean too much. But beating Chelsea also meant that semi-final 5-1 got its icing on the cake.

Spurs stalled under Jol. We all know it. He deserves some credit for what he achieved in building the foundations, but Ramos did something that Jol could not have possibly done. And that’s masterminding the semi-final win and then lifting of the Cup.

Ramos and Poyet have galvanised us. Take this Cup success as the first hurdle crossed in the transitional cross-country race.

The players have tasted success. They have beaten a Top 4 club. They now know they have it in them. And there’s no doubt when the euphoria settles Ramos will gently ease in the mentality that next time, it should be something bigger. Something like the FA Cup, or maybe even the UEFA Cup.

We all know a sustained 4th spot position is the Holy Grail. And we all know that’s still way off. But with the chasing pack taking turns each season, it’s always open to anyone who really gives it a hard push.

So, there I was at Wembley loving every second of it.

That included Robbie Keane’s tears and utter joy at finally winning something. Berbatov also looked like something he hasn’t quite been all season. A Tottenham player. He celebrated like someone who you wouldn’t bet your money on leaving (caught up in the moment?).

And Chimbonda made an appearance along with a Spurs fan that joined in with the celebrations. The fan had more right to be there than Pascal.

Robinson can thank Cerny’s mistake for allowing him a way back into the team. Last thing he expected a few weeks back was for him to be part of the team again.

So as the fireworks fizzled out and the players disappeared down the tunnel (to finally reappear at Faces nightclub) we left Wembley happy. Chelsea fans long gone, it was pretty much the perfect Sunday.

Cheers Juande. Piece of piss wasn’t it mate?

Que Sera

Looking forward to tomorrow. Wembley, London final. A song here and there. Would be gutted if we lost. For several reasons.

Its Chelsea.
Its silverware.
Its a ticket to the UEFA Cup proper next season.

Had someone tell me that if Chelsea are on form, then we ain't got a chance. That's a fair comment. Apart from Utd or Arsenal, who else can beat them at the top of their game? But its a [cliche]one off[/cliche], innit? The favourite doesn't always win. So all I'm asking is for Spurs to turn up. The drab, fruitless result from our last League Cup final, which saw us spurn far too many chances hasn't been forgotten. It's always disappointing when you lose a game without really forcing the issue the other way.

Berbatov, give us your swansong. And Robinson, for the love of all things Lilywhite.....make yourself big between the sticks (ooh matron). King and Woodgate at the back please. And no Chimbonda playing the opposite side he is usually accustomed too. As for the rest. Jenas, stick all your chances away. Lennon, do to them what SWP does to us.

I just hope the idiot minority keep the football factory shit to remote train stations.

COYS

Countdown to Wembley

Prague tonight. And no such luck of resting all our ‘top’ players like Chelsea were able to do in the Champions League. Nice to see them taking the Carling Cup so seriously. Obviously the game on Sunday is far more important than an away leg in Greece. Although today, there are suggestions that Terry and Lampard won't start on Sunday. Don't believe the hype.

Not certain what Ramos will do tonight, but hopefully he’ll start with a strong eleven, and look towards them killing the game off in the first 45, then take off the key players who will be vital on Sunday.

Robinson might be recalled. Not sure of Kings fitness. 3-0 Spurs.

Yes, I know Robbo will be back in goal. And yes. I'm predicting a clean sheet too. Crack is one hell of a drug.

If we lose, I'll start the 'RAMOS OUT' campaign in earnest.

WIN

So there I was. Five minutes into a relentless chorus of ‘Que Sera Sera’, with practically the whole ground joining in, arms raised, smiles all around. And Spurs go and score a 5th. We’ve beaten the scum. And we get a Cup Final as a bonus prize. Proper Glory night, bragging rights back with us. At least for the whole of Wednesday.

I forgot to buy a programme before the kick-off. Decided this was an omen. Along with the ‘1999 Worthington Cup winners’ key-ring I found when clearing out some old junk the day before the game (that sat in my pocket). In Bootlaces, before the game, I reiterated the need for self-belief, on the pitch and in the terraces. We jokingly laughed when suggesting, ‘we could do with another 5-1 semi-final win’. The footballing Gods were listening for once.

Ooh the highlights…

Jenas performance and his goading of the away support after the opening goal
Dawson regaining the ability to defend (probably because of the next guy…)
King again showing us all just how important and immense he is. Incredible the difference he can make to our defence
Tainio, doing the job Ramos expected from him
Keane's 101
Lennon on form
Berbatov’s flick (to release Lennon) and nutmeg on Gallas
The home support/atmosphere - probably the best it's been any where in the country this season
Berbatov looking genuinely happy
Arsenal fans leaving on the 60th minute mark
Adebayor/Bendtner handbags
The irony of Bendtner scoring with his head
Theo ‘Only had five touches’ Walcott

Only negative was Paul Robinson's absence at the end of the game. He ventured into the dressing room at the final whistle, thinking more about himself, as Graham Roberts put it 'first, second and third' rather than 'the club, his team-mates and the fans'. Unless of course, Robinson is on his out of the club, and 'celebrating' would be a tad too uncomfortable if he is departing. I'll leave this conspiracy for another time.

Back to the game and the Arsenal team which included (at various points in the game) Gallas (17 Prem apperances), Eduardo (13), Hleb (19), Denilson (7), Fabregas (19), Walcott (13), Gilberto (12) Adebayor (21), Bendtner (14), Sagna(21), Diaby (9).

Kids? Reserves? Excuses?

Six of these players started their last league game and nine of them played in the league game prior to their last. Yes, arguably it was a fragmented side and their defence at times was calamitous compared to their seasoned 'proper line-up'. But all we can do is attempt to defeat the opposition no matter who they are.

Arsenal had Fabianski. We had Cerny.
Hoyte? Lee.
Diaby? Tainio.
Walcott? Defoe.

Our team was made up of fringe players too. Add Huddlestone and Boateng to the list. That's a fair few. And Spurs had no World Cup winners either. See how perception works to your advantage when you want it to?

They want your autograph Cesc

Ramos and Poyet’s message to the players pre-match was simple. WIN. In fact, kudos to finally having people at Spurs who understand the art of war. None of the usual tripe our players shout before big games that result with egg-on-face. We used what Arsenal said as a motivating tool to get the players up for it. Rather than tell the world we will win, we tell the world how great they are. Thus making us the underdog and allowing the 'words' and soundbites coming out of the Emirates to motivate us for the 90 minutes.

“There were a few interviews this week and they helped us a lot. They don't realise how much they help us when they say these things. They said we were scared of them, so many things. The players proved today they have no fear of anyone.” - Poyet

All the things I (we) have asked for happened. Even when Berbatov hit the post, and I thought ‘shit, here we go again, we just can’t kill them off’ – we do just that moments into the second half. Turns out we are not a bunch of bottlers after all. A bit of confidence, tuned into the right mentality frequency with the reassurance that we are tactically spot-on under Ramos and it can come together. Spurs can defeat their demons.

It's good to see a complete unit for once, in such an important game. All players following their instructions. Tainio, bless his little cotton socks, always injured but proved his worth giving us far more experience than O’Hara and biting at the ankles of the Arsenal midfield.

This is just the one game and the one performance, but under Ramos (and in fact, this season in generally) we have not been overhauled or thrashed. We've played awful at times, but this game shows we can deliver when it matters. Granted, this was a North London Cup game and the hard graft is in the Prem, but with continued improving fitness and commitment levels and the return of key players along with new ones and the balance and growth of the team can only go one way. Above West Ham. And then a bit more further up the table.

The sudden realisation that hard work equals success has dawned on a side that has at times waited for the result to happen rather than create it themselves.

We didn’t choke. We didn’t falter. We cut them to shreds at times. We even had the luxury of taking off Berbatov and Keane with 30 minutes to go. And little surprise that Wenger once more fails to lose gracefully.

Show me a good loser and I’ll show you a loser….or something along those lines, is the excuse drummed out every time people point and wag their finger at the direction of Wenger. He apparently didn’t believe the score line represented what he saw on the pitch and that we were not the better side over two legs. Thankfully, some Arsenal fans are gracious to admit they lost to the better side – even avoiding the tiresome excuse of ‘our reserves’. It was criminal we didn’t win at the Emirates (wasteful chances) but in hindsight, it set up the game for last nights demolition.

The fact that he isn’t magnanimous about it and a couple of their players decided to have a tiff out on the pitch speaks volumes. Talking of volumes, cracking atmosphere. When we turn it on, we turn it on.

The Gooners managed a chorus of “2-0 and you fucked it up”, at half-time, but even they didn't appear too confident of the gloat. A kind reminder that was rammed down their throats in the second half. But can’t say I really spent that much time looking their way during the course of the game. The noise emanating from each side (shock horror, even the West Stand) was [cliché]electric[/cliché]. One positive about having a compact ground is the fact you can drum up that 12th man. Although the continued rise in noise levels had a lot to do with the players lifting us up for once. This wasn't just about us the fans embracing it. The players finally tasted victory over the auld enemy. Robbie Keane, 101 goals into his Spurs career, finally being able to jig his way to the win.

You have to go back to the early 80’s for the last time we smacked them this hard. And in a season where we have been involved in several end to end classics, this pulsating masterpiece (calm down) makes it all the sweeter. If you’re gonna end a record/curse/jinx, then 5-1 is pretty much fucking a.

In previous encounters Spurs have dominated large parts of the game. But that's been a trademark death-march precession, as we always end up with nothing out of the game. So near yet so far. This time round, we sat back, and killed them with the counter-attack. Very Arsenalesque.

Strength, commitment, composure, confidence all evident. With the addition of sharp quick passing. Didn't matter how long they kept the ball for, when we won it back we made it count. It was effective and it was stunning.

The difference between last years disaster (being 2-0 up) was we didn't sit back and play long balls. We hassled and passed and kept the ball when we had to (one of KPB's strengths when coming on as a sub). We carved out chances, all mostly on target, 5 hitting the back of the net.

It was beautiful. It was wonderful. It was a fucking long time coming.

Thanks for finally bucking a trend. I've missed this feeling.

Que Sera Sera

Blog on it's way later once my hangover subsides.

NLD Part II

Rather than go over the same old 'we must do this, we must do that' war-cry blog entry, just re-read this:

/imported-data/2008/1/8/nld-semi-final-preview.html

And follow this thread:

http://www.rumourwhores.com/board/viewtopic.php?id=9597&p=1

Blood and thunder, again please. This time with an end result.

Roll on, number 23.

UPDATE: 22, not 23.

Cynicism

Young-Pyo Lee had a stonking game against the Arse. Yeah, he can't cross for shit, but few would argue against the fact he has been our most disciplined player for a fair while now. Does what needs to be done without being outstanding to the point of fantastic. Never going to be world-class, but is now worthy of remaining in the squad going forward. But you could argue he cost us a goal. I'm not talking about the deflection off his tackle and onto Walcott’s hand. More the case of the play leading up to that incident.

O'Hara was slow to see Bendtner make a run and with Lee already committed to tracking Walcott, King was left holding the area in front of Eduardo but also looking at the run Bendtner was making at which point Bendtner is on his own and in a superb position to receive the ball in a dangerous position. With O'Hara tracking and Lee having committed himself to Walcott, King was caught for a split second in no-mans land - which way to go? What to commit too?

It's here that Lee could have saved the day. Had he focused he could have played Walcott offside as everyone was a step up as Eduardo threaded the pass. Lee plays Walcott on. The rest is history.

But if you take a few paces back, all this could have been avoided.

Gilberto, middle of the park skips round Jenas. What does Jenas do? Nothing. What he should have done is what any Arsenal player would have done in the same situation. Hacked him down, taken the yellow card with pride. Play dirty WHEN you need to. I'd stop short of the play acting theatrics, mind. Cynicism could have given us a 1-0 lead going into the second leg.

Ramos, considering he came from La Liga, will surely with time drill this home to the players.

The Final Third

Arsenal 1 Spurs 1

What a complete and utter crock of shit. I fucking hate London Transport. I set off from Leyton tube station in the badlands of East London, along with Spurs tourist Forza Huddlestone (a GG regular and resident of Florida) at about 6pm. If you’re familiar with that part of London you’d probably wonder why we didn’t get a bus to Walthamstow Central and hop onto the Victoria Line. Well, simple really. At that time of day, its carnage on the roads. More traffic lights than dollar notes in Bill Gates wallet. Would have taken an age to get to Walthamstow.

So with the Central Line being the best alternative, we set out for Holborn, with the intention of changing over to the Piccadilly Line and make our way to Gillespie Road. And it’s here the Fellowship of the Cup began. The train didn’t stop at Holborn, thanks to over-crowding. So, we decided to go to Oxford Circus, hop onto the Victoria Line and get to Finsbury Park. Round the houses trip. 5 minutes waiting for a train, when it finally arrived and everyone crowded on, we were told that due to something or rather (signal failure?) the train wouldn’t be moving for a bit and chances of getting to Finsbury Park were zero.

Oh, and how can I forget? Back on the Central Line I adopted a Gooner. He doesn’t live in London and wasn’t sure of an alternative route to get to the game when the train failed to stop at Holborn.

“Did I hear you’re going to the Emirates?” He asked. Smart looking bloke, but I could tell he wasn’t one of us. Evil lurked within.

“Yes mate. You’re fucking Arsenal aren’t you?” I said. He laughed.

I told him to just follow us. Turns out he had a ticket for an executive box. Staggering. Apparently the rack of ribs is the highlight of the available food for a midweek game. Posh grub only available on weekend games when the chef has more time to prepare. Better than a bagel I suppose.

One of the reasons he wasn’t pushed in front of a train (apart from the fact there were no fucking trains) was that he was happy to slag off the Emirates and the corporate fans. Probably did so to keep us onside so he wouldn't get lost in the scary underground land of the giant robotic tunnel snakes.

A bit ironic considering he was going to tuck into some ribs later on in the evening. Most Arsenal fans hate that element of their club, so they say. I’m sure if we are ever graced with a stadium of that magnitude, the same thing would befall us. Though we don’t have a Nick Hornby to help recruit cunts by the thousands.

“We get far too many people who aren’t football fans let alone Arsenal fans that come to the games”. No shit sherlock. His excuse was he doesn’t live in London.

Anyways, we decided to scrap the Victoria Line (which was later partially suspended) and make our way to Kings Cross. Bakerloo to Baker Street, only to find Kings Cross closed. Quintessential evening travel experience right there. And we were obviously not alone, with countless red and white and white and blue colours littered frantically all of the place as people tried to work out alternate escapes from the underworld.

We settled for Bakerloo to Piccadilly Circus to Gillespie Rd. No surprise the kick-off was delayed. Amazing how many barriers (figuratively speaking) supporters had to dodge in attempting to get to the game. Sods law in full effect.

Finally got to the ground, one hour and forty minutes after setting off. We said our goodbyes to Billy (the gooner). No tongues. In all seriousness, he was a good lad. He even wished us luck. Bless.

The game wasn't too shabby. Especially from our perspective. Sure, we didn’t beat them (again). If anything, the 90 minutes gave us a near perfect example of the kind of breaks the teams at the very peak of the table get. That old saying about making your own luck rings true and Arsenal proved it. Their goal was textbook. Slice of luck, deflected, off Walcott’s hand and in. He didn’t know too much about it, but that didn’t stop him goading us with the cupped ear routine. How very scum that was. Seems young Theo is fitting in perfectly well at Arsenal. Already a cunt at such an early age, skinned by O’Hara then going down Platoon style feigning a head injury but then being treated for a foot injury. Laughable and unsurprising.

The game had an element of (the required) blood and thunder, but decent flowing football seems to be the best way to hurt opposition in a NLD. Something them lot know all too well, especially against us. This time out, Wenger's superfluous kids looked shit. Especially at the back. But they still had their moments and forced a few saves and especially early on in the game, managed a few heart-in-mouth moments. We hurt them in much the same way. Good crisp attacking football.

We looked solid too. Ledley King, for the first time since his return from injury, actually looked to be back to business with some wonderful trademark tackles. Hasn't lost any of his pace either. Overall not too bad in possession and as the game progressed some of our purple patches produced some excellent play, eventually leading to the Jenas goal for 1-0.

Could have, should have (there’s those words again) scored more in that first half. Second half too. The play in the final third lacked that final killer ball or shot. Pulling the trigger a bit earlier on occasion would have helped. 1-0, 1-1….all the same really. If Wenger plays the same team they will be slightly more improved performance wise I’m sure. But Spurs have to be favourites now to get to the final. On the 23rd time of asking, Spurs will have to produce the same type of performance with a more telling score-line in our favour. Steed and JD take note.

Arsenal lacked the cohesiveness of their previous games. Good to see a second successive decent enough performance in their cesspit. Would be foolish to think the tie is done and dusted though.

Wasn't too happy with the constant ball back to the keeper routine. But at 1-0, you couldn't really complain about it. Making use of the ball and helping so by moving into positions is something that will come with time and new players with the appropriate vision. That's one thing the scum do well. When they are in possession they always get forward. Although I'm highlighting their good moments. Some of their passing in front of their own area was almost, dare I say, Tottenhamesque from weeks gone by. Senderos. Diamond geezer innit.

No Robinson for us. Good decision and about time. Cerny (minus his kicking) played well. Some useful saves and tidy keeping. We need to bring in someone now or the summer as his loan spell is up and I don't think it will be renewed. Robinson has to avoid sulking and should prove Ramos wrong if he wants to see out his long term contract. Personally hope he does just that.

Berbatov looked sublime again. His control of the ball and run at Arsenals defence in the first half was superb. Steed, King and Jenas all impressed. Not too many negatives. Defoe’s sitter aside. We created loads of chances, and for a team that’s been very average this season, it was a fine result to take back to the Lane. You could tell that alone on the faces of the home support after the final whistle and on the way home. The miserable gits.

Not a single booking last night either. Well done ref.

Truly shocking home support. But nothing new there from the Borg collective. Apart from that small section in the corner (Hugh, is that you?) that bring their scarf's to the game. But maybe their insistent jumping up and down has more to do with bladder control. The Emirates has the smallest most compact toilets I’ve ever had the displeasure of using. Thank God for the sinks.

As for the empty seats, was there a rowing regatta everyone had to get to? Still 53,000 to watch an Arsenal reserve team ain’t too shabby, no?

After the game, apart from the usual head-slapping from the Arsenal fans from behind the line of Police officers, some of them were making throat slitting gestures. I’m now pretty certain they were referring to losing their voice along with every other red in the ground.

You have to love these games for what they are. Boiling pots.

But enough unoriginal cheap shots aimed at the Enemy, at the end of the day, we aren’t without our own problems. Let’s not pretend for a second that our West Stand doesn’t exist. One thing is for sure. Come the 22nd, the whole of the Lane will be fucking near apocalyptic.

Getting back after the game proved to be a pain too. Victoria Line was still screwed. Overground only at Finsbury Park. First train was far too packed. Second train was cancelled. 30 minute wait. No thank you. We walked to Angel, and didn’t get back to East London till well gone 11pm. Proper work-out that was ruined by a midnight KFC.

And onwards we go. Roll on, second leg.