Rome wasn't built in a day

Dear Mr Levy,

Rome wasn't built in a day. But then again Rome wasn't built with plasticine. It seems that’s the main building block used by our centurions as they attempt to fathom the foundations for a brave new empire. Our putty like team of very small creatures is becoming stop-motion when it should be morphing and leaving all the goobledygook behind. It's the cause of missed heart beats. Are you as nervous as I am? You should be.

The last thing we want is for us to lose our grip on this very precious chance we've been given. You know exactly what I'm talking about. This season, nobody wants to do consistency. But at some point, someone, possibly more than one club will hit form. And if we're left behind then we'll be face palming well into the summer months at another lost opportunity. We don’t have to be great, we just have to be good. A little better than good will do just fine.

New stadium? Grand. Lovely. But that’s years away. And we've still got to get planning permission for it. And I can't be staring at photos of the proposed structure for the next half a decade whilst others travel around Europe visiting already built and populated stadia in the Champions League. Applause for all the sterling work off the pitch, with the business side of the club. I'm not naïve, I know that in this day and age the finances have to be strong in order for us to be able to spend £15M a pop on the latest player of the moment. Everything is primed and in place. It always has been. But that cutting edge in both decision making on a managerial level and on a chairman level has been left wanting. Leaving us with no cutting edge where it matters most - on the pitch.

You say, in a round-about-way that there is no money to spend on players. Meaning to sign someone we need to sell someone. Harry then comes out and suggests that all the proposed outgoing players according to the press are not actually going anywhere. And in the midst of all this we are meant to be signing Sandro. That's the Brazilian defensive midfielder, not Harry's better half. Classic word play there.

Obviously, what is said publicly is never a true reflection of what is going on behind the scenes, and that should be the case. No need to be in the know until the press conference. How we get there does not matter, as long as we do. As long as the conclusion is identical to the one the majority are hoping for. And in this case, the majority want to see certain players gone and brand spanking new ones arrive. You might believe that consistency regarding players is the way forward, but if some players are not capable of that, then consistency will never be forthcoming.

Recent results have highlighted that the team under Harry requires a bit of tweaking. By tweaking I mean gutting and by a bit I mean the same amount Jack the Ripper ripped out of his victims.

Harry has a monumental job in attempting to reshape a culture of comfort that exists deep in the psychosis of the club, no matter the players, staff or coach. The same niggling reoccurring issue of mental strength arises. Perhaps it’s our transfer policy and the ilk of players we traditionally bring here that are of a certain criteria that is only good enough for a mid-table to a rare 5th place position. Any player with true hunger for genuine success, looks elsewhere and we become a stepping stone for those who truly believe they can achieve more. Rather than those who don’t quite grasp the moment and remain content, chasing shadows on the field of play and women in bars.

Carrick moves on striding forwards with confidence. Jenas stays, picking his nose and chasing butterflies.

As a collective we constraint the entity that is Tottenham, eleven players, lacking a sustained balance to shift up a gear to the next level. From one generation to the next. It has to end. And doing it slowly slowly leaves no potential for a conveyor belt of club shop dvd releases. Score-draws are so yesterdays news darling. We want more. Much more. And we want it now.

It's time to throw more money at the problem at hand. It's the only way to fix it. No time for patience. No time to wait for the players to learn from their mistakes and grow together. They have taken us as far as they can. Harry (when he arrived) rid the club of the cloud of depression, got the players working as a unit, got us strong and capable away from home and lifted belief. But these blips we are experiencing are ones that are becoming detrimental to our immediate ambitions. It's because some of the players are punching above their weight and failing to land any shots.

The responsibility is split between yourself, the coach and the players. But one cannot move to resolve it unless the other two aid its attempt.

The blips need removing. Show Harry the money. Let Harry make the changes to the team and that will allow the team to turn from plasticine into something more quantifiable. Like Lego. You can build cool stuff with Lego. Like the Millennium Falcon. Plasticine doesn't do hyperdrive. And let's face it, Han Solo or Lando Calrissian sitting on top of a ball of clay in the midst of the Galactic Civil War is never going to be a cool or productive sight to behold. And remaining on this literal space kick...

Robbie Keane is playing football out of phase, like that episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation where Geordi La Forge's quantum state is out of sync with normal matter, leaving him invisible to all around him. Unable to influence anything or anyone around him. If I remember correctly, it was thanks to a transporter accident. Something that is quite possibly the reason behind Robbie's demise since his road trip north went south. He can't even be arsed to wave his hands around and shout anymore. That's the damage Rafa inflicted on this once crowd favourite. The player that made Berbatov look great.

Crouch isn't scoring the goals - proving that tall players are only good for hoofing the ball up to their head, and as he's useless with his head, he doesn't really do enough with his feet to warrant a place alongside Defoe. Honestly, that thing he does with his feet. You know, the controlling of the ball? Don't shout it out but I swear I've seen normally sized players do the same. Ssh.

And as for Defoe, over-rated. Scores five against Wigan then misses a penalty against Everton and does nothing against Wolves. That's all the evidence I need. He's due another loan spell.

Pavlyuchenko? I can't actually remember the last time I saw him play. Does he still wonder the aisles in the Tescos over in Waltham Abbey looking to pick up cheap dvd players with the aid of his interpreter? Can you perhaps email Comolli and ask him to forward the youtube link that he based his decision to sign him on? Perhaps we can sue the Frenchman for industrial sabotage.

The midfield requires more weight. And I'm not talking about feeding Huddlestone extra cheeseburgers. There is no leader, no one to scream and shout at the players. It's a fundamental basic ingredient. And it's missing. Talking of which, your poster boy Jenas is still knocking around. Doing what exactly remains a mystery. But there he is. There. Just standing, watching, as the world passes him by. Young English player with bonus sell-on value. So when the fuck do you ever plan on selling him then? HIS VALUE IS DECREASING WITH EACH SUNSET MATE.

And as for Hutton. Allow me to make a suggestion here based on what I know from experience. He was signed from Rangers. That's it. No more questions your honour, no more questions. Players that look good up in Scotland will probably be passable at a Championship side down south. I guess if the club spends £8M on Dean Richards, then £8M on Alan Hutton is a given. You know, cause we don't want to appear to be racialists.

Gio. Mexican. Likes to party. Doesn’t like to train. Played for Barcelona. He's going to be a mega star. He just needs time. More time. And protection. Just like Adel out on loan to QPR. Both world beaters. You just wait and see. Just wait. They can dribble, the lads. Get 'em playing for us. Recall Adel. Play Gio. I'm telling you, it's…okay, this one, it's going nowhere fast.

Even the good ones are struggling. Take Wilson Palacios who has gone from beast to Gruffalo. He has lost the tenacity and discipline to own the space between defence and the oppositions midfield. Like a key lost behind the sofa, he's busy looking for it in the kitchen. Its behind the sofa! The sofa, Wilson, the sofa! He just needs to refocus. Thankfully, that might happen with the aid of a little Croatian by the name of Luka. Small enough to fit his skinny arms and reach out for the missing key. But we cannot place all hope on his petite shoulders.

The back four changes it's line-up more times than Danielle Lloyd changes…ah, nah, I'm not going to go there. Way too easy. I'll be the first not to.

And don't even dare get me started on David Bentley. You know Dave, right? He's the one making mischief with the star jumping and the skip shooting. You can't miss him. He's wearing a wolf costume. And as punishment, Harry sends him to bed without his supper. And in his room a mysterious wild forest and sea grows out of his imagination and he sets sail to the Land of the Beck Things. These are smouldering good looking sexy creatures that Dave conquers by staring into their beautiful green eyes without blinking once and is made the King of all Beck Things. And he dances around with them in a not so but quite possibly metrosexual way and has much fun and then finds himself lonely and homesick so he returns to find that although his supper was left waiting for him, it was now gone. Yep. No hot supper. No, it wasn't Tommy. Not this time. It was patience. Patience ate his supper, his last supper. And as far as I'm concerned he can go back to his imagination land with his showboats and row z free-kicks if it means selling him to any mug willing to take him off our hands.

The problems we have, they are obvious ones. Do not allow complacency to ruin it. Remove the dead parts. Replace them. And then work with the improved group to further improve their state of mind. Your job is to make sure that Harry has the support to birth consistency before we lose our way completely.

All this is quite possibly in hand already. So I guess this just serves as a reminder of what I'm expecting. Because you know, us fans know exactly how a football club and team should be run more than anyone. Take note and get back to me at the end of January.

Regards,

Spooky

Spurs are the Kurt Cobain of football, gifted and tortured

Slow news day, as ever during the International break. Going through the archives, I found this particular letter to the chairman quite relevant, I guess as a comparison between the balance of the side back then (towards the end of Jol's tenure) to what it is now, under Harry Redknapp who has rejuvenated the mis-jointed side that Ramos failed to ignite.

The letter was written on the 15th August 2007, after the Everton loss at WHL. Martin Jol was the gaffer. And we sat bottom of the Prem, struggling for form. What a shocker...

What use is an unloaded gun?

Dear Mr Levy,

Are you sitting comfortably? Maybe you need to push aside the metaphorical £7000 per night hooker (The West Stand) kneeling down in front of you and spit out the caviar (our hard earned money) because I don’t want you to be distracted by what I have to say. And if Chirpy happens to be down there too, ask him to get his friction burns another time.

I’ve just returned from White Hart Lane – The Theatre of Sleep Paralysis. I witnessed an inept display of dis-organised football, dosed with dollops of shambolic blips and embarrassing puddles of despair. Is it suddenly the turn of the century again? Is Pleat back at the helm? Moving a little forward on the timeline, I almost long for Santini and his bus.

What happened to the progression from the past two seasons? The ambition to iron out all the little quirks and problems? In two games we find ourselves rock bottom within touching distance of the wrong Championship. Six points behind everyone and in disarray. A relegation dogfight is already on the cards. Time to cash in on the lazy Berbatov to bring in some steel. Nigel Quashie should be available. He knows one or two things about dogfights. The cultured Berbatov doesn’t have the right tools in the box for what’s on the horizon.

'This shit is unacceptable'

For the love of God, Anthony Colossus Gardner is our top goal scorer. Why bother spunking all that money on Bent when we have a player who can defend and attack? He’s like a black Beckenbauer, except his English, shit and can’t defend or attack. Uncanny. Gardner is so bad he should be white and ginger.

All that pre-season hype and all those cute sound-bites from Jose and Fergie have got your little band of brothers all punch drunk with the idea that they don’t actually have to do anything. Just turn up in their £5,000 suits and £100k sports cars and that will be enough. 4th spot will come running to them in a short little mini skirt and black high heels, biting its lip with anticipation. Open your eyes, you fools! Its not 4th spot. Its 14th spot, and it’s fat and ugly and will give you STD's.

Yes, the defence is depleted, and seeing Kaboul walk off was evil irony at its best. Leaving us with Chimbonda (left-back or right-back, you decide) and Stalteri - the one man wrecking machine who hasn't quite figured out what the football is used for. But the issue that no matter how good our forwards are (not very good at the moment) we will continue to struggle even with a fully fit defence on account of having the most unbalanced and backwards moving midfield in the Premiership.

Everton may not have been great in performance. Let’s face it they didn’t have to do much at all. They just waited for us to gift them a goal or three. But they still grafted their socks off. They all had individual responsibilities out on the pitch. We were a pathetic mess in comparison. At this rate, we’ll be relegated by Christmas. See, instead of paying money for young players and recommended foreign talent, we should have just brought in bland non-sexy workman-like footballers. We got beat by a team who have Phil Neville as the cornerstone of their defence. Why didn’t we bid for Phil Neville? No, instead, we go for Kevin Prince Boateng, cause he’s got a flash name and tattoos and should sell a ton of shirts and merchandise and might be the new Gazza. Another player who might prove to be decent in 3 years time. Always looking to the future, never the present.

'Its my mess. All my choices were wrong'

After the Sunderland defeat, I asked to see the following for the home game against Everton:

Organisation.
Balance.
Width.
Creativity from midfield.
Alert and slick forward play.
Strength of character in all areas.
Belief and self confidence.

The Magnificent Seven. And how did we do?

Organisation – The defence played like a post-apocalyptic group of starved imprisoned zombies who have been forced feed milk by a sadistic military special ops unit. They are confused and don’t understand what’s going on.

Balance – No balance or cohesiveness of any kind. The defence was put together by Blue Peter. All cello-tape and cardboard. The midfield was non-existent, like comedy on ITV. The forwards lost. Stuck in a hatch.

Width – Laughable. No Lennon, no width. Routledge made a cameo. That’s how desperate we are. All summer long - in fact three summers long, and still no answer to the left-hand side. Gareth Bale, our hopes and dreams are with you because Levy wouldn’t pay Petrov £70K per week. Criminal.

Creativity from midfield – One word. Arteta. That’s what we don’t have in our team. Someone to pull the strings. How dominant was he against Jenas and Zokora and our other midfielder, Keane? When will Jol realise that the midfield is imperative. It’s the heart of the team. Everton had the likes of Carsley doing all the donkey work. What do we have? Jenas, endlessly running into people or losing the ball. Zokora, endlessly running into people or losing the ball. Keane, endlessly running into people or losing the ball. Top 4? It’s not even mid-table, quality wise. Look at the other teams up there and look at their midfield's, then compare them to what we have. That money you got for Carrick, after the usual tax-deductible yacht purchase is taken out off the profit margin, you could have spent it on someone decent enough to replace him. Phil Neville. Scott Parker. I wouldn't bid for Arteta. He'd probably turn to shit the moment he puts on the Lilywhite shirt.

Alert and slick forward play – None to be seen. A couple of moves, crosses and half-shots and the header from Berbatov, but all a bit average. None of that relentless attacking movement of the past two years that we have managed to muster up time and time again at home. There has been no style or plan in either of our two opening games. Are they training hard enough? Because a source close to the club suggests that Jol doesn’t have them do much running.

Strength of character in all areas – Completely void. No real heart. Nothing to suggest they felt hurt after the Sunderland defeat. No belief in themselves. In fact, it was all rather sympathetic. Losing a goal after 3 minutes summed it up. Spurs are the Kurt Cobain of football, gifted and tortured, preferring the easy way out.

'Lets whack this cocksucker and be done with it'

Belief and self confidence – I think Martin Jol loves Jenas so much, he’s started to mould the team in the shape and style of the player. Jenas, who probably still reads a scrapbook full of newspaper cut-outs of his rave reviews of when he was a Forest player, seems to be undroppable. He’s ineffective and without purpose. Seems the rest of the team are exactly like that too. No belief in their ability and no confidence to take on the likes of Sunderland and Everton. Its the dawn of the Jol Jenesis. And all the players have an invisible touch.

In a word, its a shambles.

So what if we have seven defenders out injured. What kind of excuse is that? And the lack of ideas going forward is worrying. Which begs the questions, why no Huddlestone? He was superb when he came on against Sunderland the other week. So mobile and sharp.

Where was the chance-creating machine, Taarabt? Ever present in pre-season, a reserve player since the start of it. This young Zidane cloned youngster is the saviour of this ruined club, and yet you and Jol have him wrapped up in cotton wool in a basement at the Lodge. Too wooden, is he?

You upped the prices of our season tickets. You allowed £16M and a bit to be spent on a forward that we arguably didn’t need. And all this talk of top 4 has resulted with egg over your chiselled manicured bald face.

'Just when I thought I was out, they pulled me back in'

After Derby at home, we have Manchester United, Arsenal, Bolton, Newcastle and Liverpool with Fulham squashed somewhere in there for fun. I can hardly see any points gained in any of those matches. Jol must have 2, max 3, games left to save his job. He's gone from a rousing Churchillesque speech at the final home game of last season and rapturous applauds and hero worship to the sounds of disgruntled fans, baying for his blood, full of intolerable excuses and boo'ing the team off the pitch.

See how quick your empire can crumble? That's the power we yield. We can place aside everything that's happened since Jol took over replacing them with 180 minutes played this season, such is are foresight and judgement.

Two games, two sets of 90 minutes and our season is over. Best we can hope for is 8th or 7th at a push, and a late one at that. Three years down the drain in a blink of an eye. With no understandable explanation. It's the Tower of Babel all over again, struck down before reaching the heavens.

Time for evasive action. Time to sell the dead wood and bring in some new blood. Time to start the search for a new manager. Time to scrap these stupid tours of Africa, which appears to be one of the reasons for our depleted squad and injury crisis. Even though we did win some silverware out there. Add that to the honours list, Levy.

All those wonderful cup runs of last year and superb free-flowing attacking football that saw us claim the right to be called the great entertainers, all flushed down the toilet with just the one attempt. The harsh truth is that the log wasn’t big enough to cause a blockage and survive. Wasn't strong enough. Just too soft and breakable. Too much fibre, that’s the problem. Not enough starch.

Yours Depressed,

Spooky

-

That was August 2007. How times have (finally) changed. We actually look like a football team now. Oh the joy of passing time...

The Saviour of Spurs

Dear Mr Levy,

You complete me.

For years you have been the Lex Luther to my Superman, leaving a trail of Kryptonite that has had detrimental damage. The Bane to my Batman, lifting me up in humiliation and breaking my resolve without a flinch. The Mike Ashley to my Newcastle, defecating in my bowl of corn flakes, day in and day out. You and your dark shadow that has blackened the Park Lane into unnerving darkness with no presence of even the faintest light. Until…until you had your epiphany. The moment, the one truly pure defining moment of your villainous Sarumanesque reign over my beloved club. The moment birthed from the depths of darkness where a blinding ray of sunshine cut up the night sky to shreds and turned it into a supernova of raining rainbows. You, the one responsible for the dread and the disillusion, changed the course of time its self.

One single decision that has enlightened and blessed us all.

You rid the club of the Director of Football structure, and as a consequence returned to simple fundamental basics. And saved us. Even though you left behind you a tapestry of mistakes that you were accountable for. They can now be brushed aside and forgotton about.

Daniel, I'm no longer in Kansas. And in front of me is a white and blue brick road leading us to the return of Technicolor glory.

I have preached outside White Hart Lane many times, disguised as a fundamentalist Christian armed with a megaphone telling passing supporters wandering down towards the South Stand that Jesus Christ loves them and forgives them. All ignoring my drooling monotonous ranting, laughing and taking the piss as they walked past. But I was influencing them and their thoughts, and they didn't even know it. Not willingly that is. Subliminal messages work in a mysterious way. The megaphone transmitted low frequency directives to anyone within 50 metres, penetrating their subconscious mind.

"Don't buy the Opus"
"Don't sit down, stand up"
"If we lose, it's the chairman's fault"
"Smoke in the cubicles"

Guerilla warfare against the oppressive dictatorship you stood for was a difficult and draining 24/7 campaign. I know people expect me to stand outside the West Stand main entrance and relentlessly chuck water balloons loaded with the contents of Pot Noodles at your passing car. Or shooting frozen shit pellets (do you have any idea how long it takes for me to make these? The diet I have to retain and the cost of refrigeration?) at board members when they're out dining with their wives. Handcuffing myself naked to the turnstiles and boycotting the Spurs Shop have served me well over the years and the country too, thanks to the generous amount of community service that her majesty has bestowed on me. Incidentally, that evening I was walking my cat (she was very domesticated) and it just so happened to jump over your gates and into your garden hence why your wife found me going through your bin bags. Cats do like rummaging for scraps. Anyway, the resulting restraining order was a little harsh, it has to be said. I'm considering legal aid, because I've not seen my cat since that day and your guard dog is looking suspiciously tubby. At least I was considering legal aid. It's all behind me now. The leaflets, the online propaganda. The effigies. All of it. It's in the past. I've forgiven.

Tottenham under Ramos

No more burning my season ticket in full view of the directors box. No more calls for others to do the same. Embrace your season ticket. Kiss it gently. Touch it in it's private area. Make sweet love to it. Whisper your unconditional loyalty, while you cheekily slap its sweet firm arse.

I am proud. Proud of the team and proud of your newly refined clarity. Many people go through life without a life-changing Darth Vader moment. You did. You have come full cycle, restoring balance. You are positively drenched in midi-chlorians, bringing with you a new hope.

And Jar-Jar Binks is nowhere to be seen.

When Comolli was axed, you were able to see the necessity for complications was redundant. No need for a continental structure when the most successful of clubs in England have done just fine without one. A traditional managerial appointment was needed. A man for the hour, a man for the immediate future. No 5 year plan. No lofty delusional assessments of our progress. Season upon season of transitional nonsense had rendered us null and void. A fragmented mess, disjointed. Beauty spots on a blemished face. Great to look at from afar, ugly up close. We had become the Paris Hilton of football clubs, believing our own hype thinking we are great and important. When in reality we had a stupid face and disgusting feet.

You did a brave thing. You made a ballsy decision. With the Spaniard sent home and the fans nervous about two measly points from eight games, the very foundations of the club began to shake. You remember that evening? I remember it well. I stood outside White Hart Lane, holding up a 'LEVY OUT 3:16' sign along with my 'THERE USE TO BE A FOOTBALL CLUB HERE' banner which I last held aloft just after the George Graham appointment. I stood there, tearful, waiting. And that's when I heard the news. Harry Redknapp. The new manager of Tottenham Hotspur.

A new dawn was upon us. I went home. Content. Happy.

The great managerial escapologist. Harry Houdini. Back to basics. English. And loyal to the club he's just joined until he's loyalty shifts across to his new club. And his new club was us. It was time for Tottenham to fight it's way out of the depths of the mire it had found its self in. And Harry was the man to lead us upwards. No more DoF interference. No more politics. No more misguided dreams. Get out of the bottom three and never look back.

Harry Redknapp's Tottenham

You read our predicament for what it was. A unmitigated disaster. Granted one of your own creation, and another Ramosesque appointment was an impossibility. Redknapp, man-manger extraordinaire, speaker of the English language, man of the media - the sound-bite king. This wasn't just about repairing the damage to the squad, the players confidence and the clubs non-existent stature. This was, in the most simplistic way, a relaying of our foundations, plastering over the cracks. The media love a bit of 'arry. The cynical might argue that this was a strategic stroke of genius, getting in a man who doesn't need to wait for a journalist to come knocking on his door. He calls them up. PR heaven. On and off the pitch. But who cares if the attention is deflected away from the chairman and onto the manager. Isn't that the whole point? You took responsibility for your actions rather than stand sheepishly behind a Frenchman.

Superfluous signings? Forget about it. Harry saw what was missing, what was needed and did the simple thing: Sign players that would improve the teams effectiveness. And you supported him. It would take 1000 Zokora's to match the presence of one single strand of hair from the head of Wilson Palacios. JD's return is proving to be inspired. Keane returned home from his sabbatical and claimed the captaincy. And in Chimbonda we made sure we covered our defensive line. In case anyone got injured. Or if we needed to cover anyone who required a rest. Not that we did. We did, but not that we had to call for Chimbonda's assistance. But it's not the winning that matters, it's the taking part. Which technically Pascal didn't do, well neither, but he was there. With us. In spirit. And that was the effect Harry had. He got the players working for each other and for the club and restored the pride that had deserted us.

And then the moneyshot, the reason why your decision to bring in Harry will go down in history as one of the great master-strokes of chairmanship. Escaping the clutches of relegation and coming within a whisker of European qualification, along with another cup final appearance was simply inspirational. It justified everything and made a mockery of the director of football mantra.

And this season, it's more of the same. Upbeat, positive and belief from the players and the fans in the stands. Good solid signings. Nine points, three games. Top of the Premier league. Free-scoring. Swaggering. Swashbuckling. Sexy. Harry has given us our Tottenham back. WHL is a fortress and away games are a blast. We all know of course that this - the present - is all Harry's doing with regards to results. So the real test is yet to come. The one concerning how we react to any minor (or major) blip in form - with nobody to blame as the responsibility will belong solely to him. The one about mental strength and staying power. And Harry is here to restore respectability and make sure the foundations hold strong. So that the next appointment is not a transition but a continuation.

You have learnt a valuable lesson in football. You need to walk the walk rather than just talk the talk. Appointing Ramos on the advisement of Comolli and Kemsley to take us to the next level displayed a lack of realism and a dollop of over-confidence about where we stood in the food chain of football.

We are now a team. A unit. A dolphin not a haddock. A badger not a skunk.

And it's because of you Daniel.

I can forgive your good self and Paul Barber for the travesty of the yellow-streaked home shirt. I can forgive you for the continued employment of that arrogant sonofabitch Chirpy and his sexual harassing of supporters (he touched my back once and just starred back at me, smiling. I felt violated). I can even forgive you for the commissioning of the endless supply of club DVD's chronicling score-draws.

You are forgiven. Unequivocally.

I want us to hold hands (metaphorically, as the restraining order still has me at 100 metres distance) and march together, forward.

The future is bright. The Future is lilywhite.

I have sent you a hamper of bagels and a lovely bottle of white wine (never red, right?)

I love you man.


Yours forever,

Spooky

What if Daniel Levy actually replied to one of my letters?

With the deepest heart felt apologies to Eminem and his trademark "Stan" track which tells a story of an obsessed fan who writes to the rapper without (initially) receiving a reply.

Chorus: (Harry Redknapp)

Juande's tapas has gone cold and I'm wondering why..
he got two points from eight games
The morning rain clouds up his window and still..
two points from eight games
And then he's sacked and I take over
put my picture on the wall
It reminds me, that I'm so great,
I'm so great..


[Spooky]
Dear Mr Levy, I wrote but you still ain't callin
I left my mobile, my email, and my home phone at the bottom
I sent two letters back in May, along with an effigy you must not have got 'em
There probably was a problem with security or the postmen
Sometimes they just throw out my parcels when I drop them
But anyways; fuck it, what's happening dude? How's the ground re-development going?
I can't wait for the new eco stadium, gonna leave us all crowing
So what you up to at the minute? Should we expect to sign Downing?
I'm only joking, if we sign him I think I might cry and consider drowning
I'd rather stick my head up my arse and taste my own browning
Can we not try and sign someone else instead?
Ashley Young would be better than having myself ending up dead
I know you probably hear this everyday, but I'm your biggest fan
I even hide out in your garden in the shrubbery and watch you tan
I got a room full of your photos and pictures that I took
I like the old work you did with ENIC too, that shit was off the hook
Anyways, I hope you get this, and mail me back,
Just to chat, truly yours, your biggest fan, let's talky
This is Spooky


Chorus: (Harry Redknapp)


[Spooky]
Dear Mr Levy, you still ain't called or wrote, does your PA never take a sodding note?
I ain't mad - I just think it's FUCKED UP you don't answer your phone
If you didn't wanna talk to me outside the Lane,
you didn't have to, but you coulda signed an autograph for Damien
That's my little effigy, he looks just like the Frenchman
We waited at the West Stand entrance for you in the rain,
four hours and you just passed us leaving us in pain
That's pretty shitty man - just like Pavlyuchenko
If you don’t sell him and that useless Bent I swear I'll go flipping mental
I ain't that mad though, I just don't like being lied to
Remember when we met at the AGM - you said if I'd write you
you would write back - see I'm just like you in a way
I never rated Martin Jol neither, he was Dutch decay;
he used to always choke in the big games and we'd always get slay
I can relate to what you're saying in your match-day notes
So when I have a shitty day, I drift away and read them to myself
Cause I don't really have much else other than a blog and twitter to help me when depressed
I even got a tattoo of your face across my chest
Sometimes I even shave my head to see how good it looks
It's like adrenaline, the shine is such a sudden rush for me
See everything you say is real in those official statements and I respect you cause you tell it
Other blogs and forums are just jealous cause I talk about you 24/7
But they don't know you like I know you Dan, no one does
It's not your fault David Bentleys lost his buzz
You gotta call me man, I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever lose
Sincerely yours, Spooky -- P.S.
We should share a bagel soon


Chorus: (Harry Redknapp)


[Spooky]
Dear Mister-You're-Gonna-Get-My-Burning-Season-Ticket-Thrown-At-Your-Door,
this'll be the last fucking effigy I ever send your arse, it's war!
It's been Christ knows how long and still no word - I don't deserve it?
I know you got my last two letters;
I wrote the addresses on 'em perfect…Bill Nick Way 748 High Street
So this is my mobile phone recording I'm sending you, I hope you see and hear it
I'm in the car right now, I'm doing 90 on the High Street
Hey Daniel, I drank ten cans of Holsten, you dare me to drive?
You know the song by Chas'n'Dave, "Ossies Dream"
About that guy who's knees go all trembly on his way to Wembley?
And Ricky scored that goal in the replay and we won?
That's kinda how this is, you could have played a blinder and rescued me from drowning
Why the fuck do you persist in wanting Stewart Downing?
Now it's too late - I'll even buy the new yellow streaked home shirt, even if its fucking lousy
and all I wanted was a letter or a call
I hope you know I ripped ALL of your naked pictures off my bedroom wall
You're not keeping an eye on Harry, he re-signed Chimbonda, think about it,
you ruined it for everyone now, I hope you can't sleep and you dream about it
and when you dream I hope you can't sleep and you SCREAM about it
I hope your conscience EATS AT YOU and you can't BREATHE about it. Why did we sign him, when we can live without him?
See Daniel; {*screaming*}
Shut up bitch! I'm trying to talk!
Hey Daniel, that's Chirpy screamin in the trunk
But he ain't too good, I dropped an Opus on his head
Cause a hostage ain't a hostage if he's completely dead,
Well, gotta go, I think I'm almost at the Spurs Shop now
Oh shit, I forgot, how am I supposed to send this shit out?


{*car tires squeal*} {*CRASH*}
.. {*brief silence*} .. {*Police siren in the distance*}


Chorus: (Harry Redknapp)


[Daniel Levy]
Dear Spooky, I meant to write you sooner but I've been quite busy
I'm glad you like the stadium plans, it will make the gooners dizzy
Look, I'm really flattered you spend so much time outside the ground
and here's an autograph from Robbie Keane, he's sound
He wrote it on a programme
I'm sorry I didn't see you at the Lane, I must have missed you
Don't think I did that intentionally just to disrespect you
But what's this stuff about your little effigy?
I say that's just slightly off-key
Come on now - you don't want yourself banned and have to plea
You got some issues Spooky, I think you need some counselling
To help I'll put your name down in the raffle for an Opus, you're bound to win
And what's the issue about us signing Stewart Downing?
That type of attitude makes me not want us to meet each other
I really think you need to stop being so damn bitter
Because with Stewart we are purchasing box-office glitter
I hope you get to read this letter, I just hope it reaches you in time before you hurt yourself,
I think that you'll be doing just fine, if you relax a little,
I'm glad I inspire you but Spooky why are you so confused?
Try to understand, stop throwing frozen shit pellets from afar
And I don't want you handcuffing yourself naked to my car
I watched this one bloke on the news a couple weeks ago that made me sick
Some bloke in N17 was drunk and drove his car into a wall of bricks
Had a man dressed as a chicken tied up in the trunk,
And in the car they found his phone with a video message he made, but they didn't say who it was to
Come to think about, his name was.. it was you
Phew!

Redknapp - The Messiah?

Disclaimer: Yes, I know, it's a bloody long article.

Tapestry Part V

Redknapp - The Messiah

Dear Mr Levy,

I've had my moments. My attempt to parachute onto the pitch at White Hart Lane in protest of our early season form backfired when I mis-calculated the wind factor and my resulting trajectory took me onto the North Circular. My demonstration in protest of the West Stand bourgeoisie also ended unsatisfactory. I guess wearing an actual suit made of bagels was a major oversight on my part. I still have the scars from the pigeon attack. But nobody can ever doubt my commitment. I've put myself out there and will continue to do so. As soon as the court injunction ends.

But perhaps there is no urgency to be on the front-line thanks to the current equilibrium bestowed upon us by your good self. The appointment of Harry Redknapp was a masterstroke of a decision. Nine years into our five year plan to turn us into a Champions League outfit and you finally use the Batphone.

You’ve tried it all during your tenure, your predecessor too. Ex-legends, an up and coming manager, PE teacher, international tactician, promoted assistant, experienced continental mastermind. None of it has worked. Apart from that flirtatious 2006 season which ended with a chorus from Johnny Hates Jazz.

It never quite comes together, does it? Usually because of the itch to jump forward three steps when only one step is required. It's all a bit John Sergeant giving it the Fred Astaire. A comical mess of an embarrassment.

So when Ramos and his ketchup ban was shown the door we all fell into any abyss of confusion, nervously eating away at our fingernails trying to work out who the next victim of the White Hart Lane guillotine would be.

I clearly remember the evening when we all found out. I was watching a remake of Debbie Does Dallas, which in essence I believe to be superior to the original thanks to some sparkling camera tricks and shrewd re-working of the plot. I didn't discover the appointment until an hour or so after it had happened. Sky Sports News was in a giddy meltdown that resembled a club terrace in Ibiza, with churning smiles all over the place as the presenters all bounced up and down with joy, repeating the news over and over and over again with the ticker at the bottom of the screen working over-time.

And then it got surreal. Harry himself on the blower telling us he had accepted the job.

I was numb. And the Kleenex was firmly pushed aside.

"Is Harry likely to fulfil the dream that Levy champions? Does he have the tactical ability to outsmart his peers at the top of the table? Can we see him achieving Fergusonesque empire building success with us fighting it out with Wenger, Rafa and <insert current Chelsea boss here> in the midst of battle for a top 4 place?"

As the questions bounced around my head, the numbness faded, and the hefty kick of reality landed on my backside.

"When have we ever sustained such a challenge anyway? In fact, isn't this form of out-stretched ambition the reason why we never get things right, always eager to change things? We are bottom – all that matters is getting off it"

You don't need me to tell you this is Tottenham Hotspur. But I feel the need to run through recent history. I guess it's a statement of fact. Lessons learnt.

We are ambitious by nature, longing for glory days and nights. Like any other fan who supports a club that has the resource to compete with the top sides, you know you are a little closer to the dream than others less fortunate. But instead we are kept in a perpetual ground-hog day where the same promises are made and mistakes repeated. And yet we never learn from any of it. You must know this already considering the sharp rise of frozen shit pellet attacks on your car over the past few seasons.

Juande you will be able to drive down the road without incident.

Pre-Redknapp, Ramos was obviously still dizzy from the offer and although we will be forever grateful for that day at Wembley, nothing else actually worked.

During the summer in came some key signings and the removal of all deadwood along with some quality additions. You know, like selling Berbatov. To Utd. In the final minutes of the transfer window. At the death. Sold. And bringing in a right-winger, to go alongside the other right-winger we have. Because two right-wingers is better than one especially when one of them costs £15M and can star-jump. On camera. In the background. It was funny. The star-jump. Jumps like a star.

A new age was upon us. It lasted as long as the opening credits to Match of the Day.

What we were left with in the aftermath was a disjointed squad of players who lacked self-belief and pride and two measly points from 720 minutes of football (that's eight games to the common man).

How did we get here? Let's go back even further and work our way back to the present.

Once upon a time, in a simpler world, we were the glamour club. Remember those days? The 1980's were good to us. Shirts tucked out, bit of swagger and a couple of Argentines. Proper Cup finals too. It wasn’t sexy football. It was tantric.

Happy days. But nothing stays still forever. Keith left. Scholar made a mess. Venables v Sugar. We slowly degraded whether it was down to in-house politics or financial meltdown.

The lust we have (it's just part of our genetic makeup) meant we always over-extended when attempting to re-claim past glories. We stagnated. But around us, others began to move on. Arsenal went from winning things in a boring fashion to playing football with the type of revered football that was once bestowed on us. Chelsea stole our glam. And while others (Liverpool) were dethroned (Utd) we jumped from one manager to the next, all failing to claim any concept of consistency.

• Pleat's experiment almost worked.
• Venables saved the club in '91 and then that spoon full of Sugar saw him swap the bench for the High Court.
• Ossie, bless him, was over ambitious and out of his depth, an appointment that stemmed from Sugar's aim to appease the locals.
• Francis got the team working hard but then it all faded into mediocrity.
• Gross was Sugar's attempt to do what Arsenal did with Wenger and how we laughed.
• Graham was another attempt at something that we didn't quite fathom and then the Levy era truly kicked in with the return of the King of the Lane.
• But Hoddle's ego devoured itself, sandwiched in-between Pleats caretaker responsibilities and ‘technical director’ meddling.

Then came Santini, Jol with Arnesen.

This was the master plan in full effect - the Director of Football structure - one that allowed for failures. Santini didn't work so off he went, taking with him the keys to the bus. But no need to fret. The DoF was the guardian of the dream allowing the vision to never lose focus, whilst others around did. Managers are appointed based on what the DoF believes to be the right man for the job, a man who can work hand-in-hand with him.

Jol was promoted and then we watched Arnesen quit for the grand challenge on offer at Chelsea (had nothing to do with money that).

So in came a new DoF. Might have different views and policies than the departing one but the ambition remains the same, no? The ambition based on your directives as chairman. Welcome Damien Comolli, the new keeper of the vision. Safe hands please, don't drop it.

The tranquillity did not last long.

Jol was meant to be the one. Comolli and Kemsley thought otherwise. Many agreed that Jol lacked the edge that was required, with the choking in big games syndrome. So when Ramos took over this was seen as the natural logical step in the master-plan. The final piece of the progression puzzle to elevate us towards the promised land of Champions League.

"Down to bare bones, two points from eight games, triffic"

But just how many mistakes can we afford to make? Up until and just after the Ramos appointment, you built in a nice little safeguard, stating that if Juande didn't work out - Comolli would be responsible. Shock horror, it turned to shit again and not even you and your PR machine could save the infamous DoF from certain doom.

Straw. Camel. Back.

The faith you had in this awkward system was as mystifying as the unnecessary plastic surgery the Leslie Ash of mascots had done to his face. I’m talking about that piece of work Chirpy and that ridiculous face-lift.

We needed an English-can-hit-the-ground-running coach who could lift us up and out of the mire by sorting out the fundamentals. Back to basics was the only way to kick-start things again. The future vision, for the first time, was irrelevant. The immediate future the priority. The plight we were suffering, the only thing of consequence. No messiahs need apply.

Hence Harry, the only viable available option, one born out of desperation due to the predicament. Sure you dropped a sound-bite or two about how you had spoken to Harry in the past about offering him the position and that he is someone the board respect and yadda yadda yadda.

Two or three years ago, appointing him as manager would have been seen as a negative backwards step. And why? Well because, Harry is like, ex-West Ham and what's he ever done/achieved to warrant the job at the Lane? You know, cause we’re such a big club, innit.

Ouch. Another reality kick to arse: Bottom. Two points. Relegation fodder. Damage limitation. Anything after that is a bonus, and anything after that can be something a little closer to that vision we have cradled for so long.

It's no longer 2006. The French do not fear the English. The big bloated ambitions of cracking the Prem’s elite led by a director of football structure has imploded and left us in a perilous position miles under the foundation of hope we would usually start at.

So in some ways having Harry Houdini take the helm was a master-stroke. One or two people pulled out their calculators and worked out that based on the fixtures left in the season we could still go down. Countless Facebook Relegation Party invites does not mean it's a dead cert the champagne corks will go flying for opposing fans.

We were never going to get relegated. Far worse teams in the Prem. But because of the start we had and the fact that we had a squad of players epically under-performing.

Which is why the publicity shy Harry Redknapp had the midas touch with our powder-puff millionaires. It must have been a little gut wrenching for you Daniel. Deep down, you must have felt a little empty that we had come to this. But come to this we had.

And it split Spurs fans, had West Ham fans laughing even harder. But then sometimes, things fall into place accidentally. The less obvious turns out to be the more pleasing. And soon enough the doubters became believers.

• Harry has got the players playing for themselves and the team
• Players starting in positions they are comfortable in
• Playing to their strengths. In a formation that makes sense and works

And more:

• Got the best out of BAE and Lennon where Ramos failed miserably
• Palacios signing was inspired and yet a perfect illustration of the failures of previous DoF's and managers who never got close to filling this gap (apart from Carrick who worked well for us in a different kinda way)
• Defoe just had to come back home
• Keane, did have a positive impact on his return, even if he has run out of gas a little in what has been a roller-coaster season for him
• Points accumulated has been impressive. We got to a Cup final, again. White Hart Lane is currently a fortress

Only concern is the re-signing of Pascal Chimbonda who has hardly figured for the first team. Although I have sources close to the club who believe him to be one of three people employed to wear the Chirpy costume on match-days. The other two are currently in hospital due to accidents outside of the work place. Apparently. So they tell me.

Sure, he shows a lack of instinctive quick-thinking changes to turn the course of the game if things are not quite working and sometimes is late in making key substitutions. But we knew this already. He's no genius.

So does make Harry unofficially a stop-gap? Get the team consistent and up to 6th/5th place and make us steady and reliable enough to not only attract players (which we don't tend to have a problem with anyway) but to also attract a glamour manager? If that's what we need. Considering that hasn't worked before. But then nothing really has since Keith.

But thinking that far forward is the exact type of mistake we are so prone to making. One step at a time. That's for you Daniel AND some of our fan's who take a few wins on the trot to mean that glory is waiting round the corner with her skirt over her back and panties down at her ankles.

So, Harry? It all looks good thus far doesn't it? But I refuse to get giddy. History reminds me to stay firmly on my feet.

There is no doubting that going into the summer, we are looking in great nick. Two or three additional players and we are set. Not for 4th spot. Regardless of what Harry or anyone else in the media will no doubt spout in their predictions for next season. 4th is completely unrealistic, unless Arsenal implode. Winning silverware and finishing 5th is not so ridiculous. An FA Cup would be nice. But continued progression and strength in depth would be even better. We just need to compete. And we've shown glimpses of doing just that against Top 4 opposition this season.

This isn't a deluded outlook. It's just based on the fact that the teams just outside the top 4 are - all on form - about equal in class and effort. And all have the chance to edge in front if they get their summer planning spot on.

It's a realistic ambition.

We've done nothing for years and years in the league if ever tbh (apart from those two 5th spots). And rushing into it has never worked, so instead of assuming we are X amount away from being a top 4 club, how about just working hard from one season to the next until we are actually good enough and its obvious we are within touching distance by the virtue of points in the bag.

Stating the bleeding obvious, aren't I?

See the disease at Spurs is one that has engulfed everyone from the board to the fans to the media and even opposing fans. Because we are so hungry for success, we find ourselves not so much expecting it like it’s a God given right, but always believing we are on the right path in a very over excitable manner that tends to blind us from the harsh truths.

It's the money, the support, the signings. Always positive, always with intent. And the warning signs are pushed aside until it’s too late for recovery.

We put ourselves out there like a cocky boxer who knows he's forgotten his gum-shield but fights on regardless.

No matter what anyone might say about us, we might not be perceived as a big club in comparison to the Top 4, but we are a big club compared to one or two others simply on the basis of what I've stated already - cash, big name signings. It makes failure all that more bitter because the resource to compete is actually there.

Delusions of grandeur!! Delusions of grandeur!! I guess when you have this type of intent constantly, without success you'd think we would learn something. But alas, no. That's us with hearts on sleeves. We might have the intent, but it's nothing without assured focus. And not the type that Comolli displayed when he courted Ramos.

Everton strive for the same thing, but there is no urgency to chop and change. But there isn't half as much money. And they were winning titles back in the 80's, whilst we only ever claimed two in the 60's. Are they less ambitious?

Chelsea, before Romans money, were a Top 4 club. Something they worked towards and have now consolidated, and then gone further because of the money they came into and the Jose appointment.

You make your own luck.

We are a proud club, with a rich tradition. And we are stuck between the past and a vision of the future.

Harry's job should be simple. Change the culture of the team, the players. Instil a winning mentality. Start at the bottom and work our way up. Which, ironically, is exactly what we've done.

There is far too much trauma on the pitch for a club that does almost perfectly off it. Leave the football to the manager and let things progress naturally.

We need to get better than the Villas and Evertons and Citys. And then we can look up at the remaining four.

Consider this a warning shot across the bow. A statement of history we all know inside out, but needed to be stated for reference. Don't make me come back to this for the wrong reasons Mr Levy.

It's in your hands.

Buck the trend.

Regards,

S

Tapestry

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Jenas: The Marmite of the Spurs midfield

Click on the following hyperlinks for Part I and Part II and Part III.

Tapestry Part IV

Jenas: The Marmite of the Spurs midfield

Dear Mr Levy,

"Graham Roberts would run through walls for Tottenham. Jenas would apologetically whisper that he has lost the keys for the door, then sleep in a park bench for the night"

I think it was two years ago when I made that statement. And in some ways it probably stills apply today. I'm not going to dive deep into the enigma that is JJ as I've done that already in great detail here. But I will touch upon one or two aspects in order for the question at the end to make sense.

Jenas is a definitive Levy signing. You know this to be true Daniel. He's always been your poster-boy. Young, English, bags of potential and only cost £7M. And he's also a textbook Spurs midfielder. Bit of a fairy at times, goes missing far too often but has a eye for goal and does turn in a performance every so often. A luxury some would say, as arguably he can only play outstandingly well if he has the right type of players around him, so never expect him to excel if the team is struggling. There's no Roy Keane tenacity or extreme self-belief Lampard style to be seen here. And his best performances usually come against lesser opposition. Not to say he hasn't performed well against stronger opposition, but he does enjoy destroying the likes of Wigan and Derby.

The fact is, Jenas has been at Spurs for a few years now. And we are all still waiting for him take it to the next level. Now considering we all know he lacks that streak of arrogance that would surely elevate him to consistent performer, maybe the reason Jenas has never struck gold at Spurs is because he has never had the right partner in central midfield. He's obviously a fussy type.

See us lot over at Spurs struggle from one season to the next thanks to our inability at noticing what needs fixing. I can see it from the stands, but we'd be damned if you (Mr Chairman) and the management can. Harry, thankfully, did see it on his arrival. Comolli thought he did, but signed us Zokora. But with Harry, in came Palacios. A mean, disciplined (but knows when to be dirty) midfield enforcer who does all the donkey work, sweeping up balls defensively so that can go on the offensive. It's incredible to think that we've not filled this gaping hole in recent years. And when we eventually do, it’s like finding the end of a rainbow and that pot of gold.

Jenas, without the responsibility that usually leads to him crumbling under pressure, has the freedom to roam and actually fulfil that box-to-box expectation we have of him. But with the emphasis more on attack than defence. See no matter what is said about JJ, we know he has the talent, he just struggles with the application. He's a bit like Windows Vista. Got all the tools in the box but it’s a sodding bitch to get it to work with anything.

If you're wondering, Zokora is Windows ME. An eternal blue screen of death.

So I guess the question is - is he worth it? Is Jenas worth another season of patience?

With no Wilson (Windows XP, Service Pack 2 - not flash but bloody consistent), alongside Huddlestone (Linux - an acquired taste ), it doesn't quite work. Is that JJ's fault or the fact that Huddlestone is also the type of player that requires team protection? But if Wilson can boss the midfield no matter the player by the side of him, is JJ a luxury because he only works well if he has someone like Palacios by his side?

If there is a player out there that can handle himself and doesn't suffer from that apologetic disorder we see so much of at the Lane, then why even bother with Jenas at all?

Every season, its 'next year' with us. It's synonymous isn’t it, that we are forever in a transition from one season to the next, never quite settled and it's mirrored by Jenas and his metamorphosis remaining in continued stasis.

Do we need to replace him just for the sake of a fresh start? Or does he warrant a chance, a full season under the guidance and man-management of Harry Redknapp, who has worked his magic with the likes of BAE, which let's face it, we all thought would be an impossible task even if playing in a full back position is more of a rooted role than central midfield.

A consistently confident Jenas is something we have yet to see, but maybe he's deserving of another season with Wilson at his side to prove all the doubters wrong.

You could then sell him to Utd on the final day of the transfer window for £20M.

Regards,

S

Tapestry Part V up next, and Harry Redknapp.

What are we meant to do with Mr David Bentley?

Click on the following hyperlinks for Part I and Part II.

Tapestry Part III

What are we meant to do with Mr David Bentley?

Dear Mr Levy,

David Bentley is typical of this creed that blights us with each passing season. On paper he looks the part. England's new hope for the right-wing. Good looking, so he must be as good as David Beckham because no one with a face like that could possibly be shit. He's the 'it' player of the moment. And we need a big name signing, so let's just go out and sign a right-winger because we don't actually need one having Lennon there already, but who cares, it's too much of a bargain at £15M to turn down. Let's sign him and hope he can somehow fit in to whatever system the coach decides to play.

We are then treated to some tidy goals pre-season but a run of two points from eight games turns all our players into fragile pathetic apologetic losers.

Are they playing badly because they have no confidence?
Are they playing badly because they have no confidence in the manager?
Are they playing badly because they are a team of individuals that don't quite gel together as a unit?
Are they playing badly because they are prima donna millionaires who just can't be arsed?

If it was a confidence issue that progressively got worse with each passing game thanks to Ramos inability to fashion some form of consistency and style, then why did some of our players (most of them in fact) climb out of the depths of despair and reclaim some self-pride when Harry arrived? Bentley, momentarily, did so with That Goal©. You know the one. From the half way line. He flicked it and hit it. 40 odd yards out. Flew through the sky like a squirrel with a rocket up its bum, and come down over Almunia and into the goal. It was Beckhamesque. From the half line. It’s on youtube. If you haven't seen it.

Since that giddy high, we've had very little. Plenty of Hollywood flicks and showboats. Everything that ought to be a simple pass turns into 'OH GOSH, THE CAMERA IS ON ME, LET ME DO SOMETHING A £15M WOULD DO. LOOK MA, I'M ON TOP OF THE WORLD!' instead of just, well, passing the sodding thing to the player that wants the ball.

It's not quite Neo in the Matrix. More Kev on the Hackney Marshes.

Tragic decline, witnessing a player who was so proud to sign for us and ecstatic he made the move down south to disappear into mediocrity with the rest of the team but then fail to re-emerge, rejuvenated.

Personal problems were cited. Hmm.

Play football for a living. Check.
Train two or three times per week. Check.
Millionaire. Check.
Good looking. Check.

Ok, so I'm making assumptions that just because someone is a millionaire footballer, then all is well. Something is obviously deeply wrong. Was it the transfer fee? Was it the bad start? Was it the fact that Redknapp managed to get the best out of BAE and nurse Lennon back to his blistering best, but couldn't quite work his magic with Bentley?

Surely a quiet word would have done the trick.

"David, just do the simple things lad. Don't try and do the impossible with every touch. Play for the team"

It obviously didn't work even though Harry persisted with playing him. The he was dropped. And injured. And playing for the reserves. And now on the bench. And Harry is hinting that the lad might leave because he can't get into the team because Harry is happy with his current selection. Keane played on Saturday. Bentley didn't.

And there we have it. In modern day football there is no room for patience. You'd think that Bentley - regardless of the transfer fee - has qualities that any top side would want in their squad. And David himself must surely want to stay on because this was his boyhood dream club move, no? To leave when you've told everyone that personal problems have been the reason for your lack of form means you haven’t been able to give it 100% and thus owe the club and the fans. And as for the club, having forked out £15M, surely that warrants a little more time to see if the investment was worth it. Unless of course there is no reason to keep a player that can only play one position and won't play in that position much if Lennon is fit.

Once more Mr Levy, this illustrates the superfluous Tottenham transfer policy that has hindered us far too often. Yes, we are a club steeped in prestigious tradition when it comes to individual flair players. We've had an abundance of them. And talking of tradition we do love a big name signing. But 10, 15 years of very little league success (only two 5th spot finishes) proves that we don't always have to buy the obvious 'must have' players just to keep up appearances on the back pages.

Bentley was not required. And yet we bought him. And I can't help but think we bought him because we had lost Keane to Liverpool and needed a flashy pick-me-up. Either that or Ramos/Comolli had written off lickle Lennon altogether. Either way - shambolic management. Yes, we're rich. But we don't have to spunk it like Peter North in a harem.

The lad seems genuine enough. And maybe he's lack of form is because of that woeful start we made, followed by the form of Lennon. Which would point to the frailties of his character. Have we signed a fragile 'must be wrapped up in cotton wool' type of player who needs hugs and bedtime stories and must be covered with the duvet so that the booger-booger man under the bed doesn't come out at night and scare him?

Maybe we'll get more 'up for it' type of bullish gritty players with Redknapp rather than the glossy cover-boy powder-puffs. But I do hate to knee-jerk. I hope he stays. I hope he tells Harry he wants to fight for his place, even if it means more time on the bench. If he asks to leave, then so be it. So much for him being a Spurs fan. But if he goes because Harry wants the extra cash in the bank, then let this be the end to superfluous signings.

You say Daniel, that you don't know your football - hence the need for a DoF. I'm sure you know enough to question the validity of £15M+ signings for players that are not a nailed on necessity. Either you are too trustworthy of the people that work below you or your thinking at times sits with merchandising and club profile ethics.

Harry has got through the first stage of rebuilding, the foundation is set. Just make sure that we don't waste our money on a conservatory or an attic conversion when all that's needed is a few cracks in the wall to be plastered over.

Thank God we don't have cowboy builders.

Cough.

Sorry, clearing throat.

Regards,

S

Slight change of plans, as the creative juices are flowing. Extended the series by one. So up next:

Part IV - Jenas (which is written, but I wont publish until tomorrow morning)

And then

Part V - Redknapp

Ta.

The aftermath of the Berbatov Saga

If you missed the introductory first part, you can read it here.

Tapestry Part II

The Aftermath of the Berbatov Saga

Dear Mr Levy,

When people throw superlatives around concerning our bank balance, the re-development of the proposed new stadium and the consistent supply of top quality club DVD releases, I always respond in the same composed manner. I laugh, slap the naïve fool in the face, and state two words: Dimitar Berbatov.

Yes, yes. Old news. Been here before. Blah blah. But this serves a purpose as a stern reminder that there is simply no excuse for a repeat showing this summer.

The Bulgarian was the catalyst in the downfall of Martin Jol and in no uncertain terms the protagonist that helped aid your misguided stand against Ferguson and Manchester United which proved to be several nails in the coffin of Juande Ramos. Berbatov was a year into his 'I want to leave and join Man Utd' sulk, and rather than just sell him the second the season ended, you built a moat around White Hart Lane to warn off attacks that was about an inch deep. There was simply no defence in place for the prolonged attack that followed, which was more cold war than in the trenches. All Ferguson did was wait until the final day of the window, when you inexplicably accepted a transfer bid from Manchester City which was Berbatov's passport to fly up to Old Trafford. Which he did. Illegally or not, the player agreed terms with United. You know this. We all know this. Which meant that you either had to reject Utd's bid to spite Utd and Berbatov - and then deal with the consequences of a player that doesn't want to be at the club or you accepted it but only if they topped it up by an extra few million quid.

So in the end, we sold him to the team that had spent an age tapping him up, even though arguably, he had already made up his mind a season into his Spurs contract that he wanted to leave, sacked Martin Jol, put up with Berbatov's continued sulks/strikes/mood swings, then sell him to Utd in a last gasp deal in the final moments before the window closed. And for what exactly? £5M more than United wanted to pay?

Then followed your assault on the injustice of it all, with a threat here and a PR letter there. Placing aside your fit of rage over how things concluded, you topped it off by agreeing the signing of Frazier Campbell on loan. So, we lose our talisman. We don’t quite replace him. And then we get a youth player in as a replacement from the club that have just taken away the only world class player we had (at the time).

That's a little bit like finding out your supermodel girlfriend doesn't love you anymore, you then get dumped after a long bout of pretence that she won't leave as you fool yourself into believing you can make her stay even though she's made you look like a complete dick, and when she does finally leave her new boyfriend hands you a copy of Razzle and tells you, "You're be just fine with this mate".

Ferguson, mugged us off. And what did we do with the money? We re-signed Robbie Keane in the Jan window. Because there was no time left to replace the departing Bulgarian in the summer one. Prior to all this, we paid £14M for Roman Pavlyuchenko but wouldn't pay Zenit the £20M they wanted for Arshavin. Both having already played the best part of the Russian league season and the European Championships in the summer - there were obvious questions about what type of impact they would have. The Arshavin deal never went through, and thank God, because he looks really really uncomfortable out of position on the left for Arsenal. And as for Pav? He's scored a few, but he doesn't have the look of a world class player. It's like we've signed the Russian Bobby Zamora who keeps trying to re-enact the video to Radioheads Just. GET UP FROM THE FLOOR AND STOP FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF FFS!

So, we end up with a strike-force of Bent, Pav and Campbell. We sign Bentley who is meant to supply the crosses for a target man, except we don't actually have anyone capable of fulfilling that role. And Bentley inexplicably forgets how to take a set-piece which renders him completely redundant unless confronted with a skip. Then in the January window we re-sign Defoe (Keane to follow) and have two players that have never quite worked playing up front together.

In the aftermath of the Berbatov saga, we are left weakened and desperate. Regardless of the self-inflicted implosion by Ramos regarding tactics and selection, we had three strikers that sort of came together by accident and ironically all three could well be departing this summer. Campbell back to Utd. Bent will be sold at a loss and how we plan to reclaim any of the £14M spent on Roman is going to be a hoot to watch.

Add to the mix David Bentley who hasn’t started a game for months, who seems to be superglued to the bench and has been cited by Harry as not really fitting into his team selection. Mark Hughes, got any spare change, guv? Anyone would think that if he played a certain amount of games we'd have to pay Blackburn more money. If Harry doesn’t fancy him, and he's sold on, then that's another transfer loss deficit. We've already re-signed Chimbonda that is arguably akin to taking out the rubbish and then bringing it back in again. It's fucking pointless. Leave it outside for Gods sake! It's where it belongs.

Daniel, we simply need to be spot on this summer. There is no Comolli. I'm sure there's still a scouting system in place. We all know Harry likes his random players with unpronounceable names, but he does strike gold more often than not. Bringing Defoe back was inspired, if obvious, and actually ridiculous all things considered. But it will work. Keane coming back was embarrassing for all concerned - him, Liverpool and us. He's tainted at the moment but will no doubt reclaim some of that intensity. Even his hand waving complaints seem limp wristed.

We need to reclaim some composure. More players like Wilson Palacios are required. Players that improve the side with immediate impact. No more soap opera dramatics and enforced donations to the Tottenham Foundation. There is no room for complacency. No room for unwanted back page headlines. Let the likes of City dominate the exclusives as they chase £100M players, while we pluck out quality that goes towards building a team rather than a set of individuals. We need to be direct and avoid long boring played out in the public domain transfer tussles. Get in there, sign them up for a competitive price, and sit there with a smug grin on your face when they repay us on the pitch.

And please, let's not be talking about 'The aftermath of the Modric saga' this time next year.

 

To follow in Parts II and IV:

• David Bentley, Jenas and The Opus
• Harry Redknapp

Regards,

S

Dear Mr Levy...Job well done?

The Tapestry - Part I

Dear Mr Levy,

Man City at the Lane tomorrow, and then that's your lot. Other than the minor visit to Anfield the following week we can finally say goodbye to another travesty of a season.

I'm being a little too harsh, aren't I? It's not quite been a travesty, though arguably, digging up the body of Stan Laurel, reanimating him and then placing him in charge of first team affairs would have been significantly better and more productive than placing your hopes on Juande Ramos to get his selection and tactics spot on.

Harry Redknapp's arrival and subsequent Houdini act is not as tricky a task as he would like us all to believe. It wasn't even a masterstroke appointment from your good self was it? Harry was the only real candidate as another continental coach was never going to be an option after the Ramos debacle and there was no obvious ex-legend to come and do the job (and that's never actually worked before). Had to be an English manager. Had to be someone who could hit the ground running. Had to be a back to basics appointment. Had to be Redknapp.

Director of football. Ironic that this is the sole reason behind the failure to build on two 5th spot finishes. Not that we ever looked likely to finish 4th in the second season thanks to the fact that we never quite replaced Carrick. The DoF was responsible for the sudden urgency to replace Jol with a more experienced coach to further elevate us towards the Top 4. And yet why, after so many barren years, did we have to suddenly get ahead of ourselves when it was obvious our 'success' in those two seasons had a lot to do with the fact that Arsenal had suffered a slight blip which saw us sit in fourth spot for four months. Comolli decided Jol could not take us any further. Added to the mix, was the mess that Dimitar Berbatov was making, requesting a transfer a season into his contract. Disruptive player, disruptive board room. Jol had no chance to continue on his learning curve. Because you and the board deemed that patience was no longer a virtue. And that was that. The rest is history which ended with two points from eight games. That’s two league points from eight Prem games. II from VIII. 2 from 8. Two points from a possible twenty four points from eight games, meaning not a single win from opening said eight games. Two from eight. 2 -8, 2-8, 2-8, 2-8, 2-8, 2-8.

Two from eight.

Step in everyone's favourite escapologist and let the re-birth begin. Which it did. And apart from the odd stutter away from home, it's been a dizzying climb to within touching distance of 7th spot including a stunning home record (just nine goals conceded all season). All this from certain relegation, as believed by many during those early season months anchored to the mire, which saw our only victory come away to Walthamstow (a 3-1 win).

Modric has been a resounding success, adapting to the English game after a new lease of life from Harry, sticking him out on the left and allowing him to float inwards to dictate play. Lennon has reclaimed past form and is beginning to add a little end product to his game. And Palacios was an inspired signing. A player that this club has lacked for several years. So kudos to Comolli for Luka, one of very few bright moments that the Frenchman gave us. In fact, kudos to Harry and the players for stepping it up and taking responsibility, leaving relegation behind for others to worry about. Kudos to you (yes to you Mr Chairman) for the re-development plans of White Hart Lane. Although I'll take some of that back if you end up selling the naming rights for the new ground to Nintendo with Mario looking down at me from the east, standing on a ball in place of the cockerel, as I take my seat in the Cookie Mountain stand. Although I'm quite partial to having Donkey Kong replace Chirpy.

But this is not a letter of commendation. I'm not here to pat you on the back. I'm here to keep you on your toes so that you aim to excel. Because there is plenty to be critical of and plenty of mistakes made that must not be repeated. And one or two other curious hiccups that require a sharp cold glass of water.

2 from 8.

I'm here to mull over the tapestry of naivety that plights your governance of the Lilywhites. I decided to write to you after I watched you have breakfast in your home. You seem to be a little too relaxed for my liking. Walking around in a robe and slippers watching Desperate Housewives. Man up for God's sake and watch The Wire. You have to be ruthless and perceptive at all times, and not allow yourself to display signs of weakness. That's why I'm here. I'll do what I can do help you. But, the games out there, and it's play or get played. That simple.

There's a lot I can see from the shrubbery in your garden with a Bushnell Elite 8x43. It's got 90% light transmission with premium BaK-4 roof prisms with a majestic PC-3® phase coating producing outstanding image clarity and contrast. I can see you bite into your Crunchy Nuts and thanks to the voice-activated credit card transmitter carefully hidden in your kitchen, I can also hear every word spoken and every egg cracked and solider dipped. By the way, please refrain from singing Kelly Clarkson songs whilst washing up. It's wrong. You look like a slightly melon collie Dr Evil drowning a screeching cat.


So, onto the tapestry. Let's begin our journey...


TO BE CONTINUED IN PART II

The 'tapestry' will cover the following topics:

• The Aftermath of the Berbatov Saga
• David Bentley
• Jenas
• Re-signing ex-players
• The Opus
• Harry Redknapp
• The Summer Transfer Window

Stay tuned.

DEAR MR LEVY: A letter to the chairman

And the award goes to....

Dear Mr Levy,

Happy New Year and I hope your Christmas was a merry one. Did you receive my gift? A bottle of Morgan’s Spiced rum. Slice of lime and coca-cola, brings out the vanilla taste wonderfully well. I’m doing good, if you were also thinking of my well being. Hence this correspondence. Thought it best to start the year off with a smile and the sharing of mutual respect. From fan to chairman.

I’ve included below a list of the winners from The Annual End of Year 2008 Honorary Special Awards from my blog. I thought it of great importance that you would want to see this as it allows you a looking glass view into the hearts of all Spurs fans who bare their souls online, in forums.

Please pass on my congratulations to the winners, and if possible, ask your PA to get some reactions and comments so I can include in a follow-up feature.

This is the only on-line honours list that matters IMO because it pays homage to the select few that deserve a special mention for an outstanding contribution to Tottenham Hotspur. It’s free of the bureaucracy, politics and corruption of football magazines and the more established sporting websites because there is no financial gain to be had or blatant punditry agendas. The winners were selected after painstaking market research conducted by myself. I spent over 200 hours reading through all the major Spurs message boards and forums and using Excel spreadsheet to input nominations (in the way of forum user reactions, comments and key words), allowing for easy calculations when it came to selecting the winner for each category. And unlike on-line polls, nothing has been manipulated.

I’m sure you will appreciate the effort. My parole officer is currently monitoring all outgoing mail and thanks to the injunction….how did the Judge put it again….oh, yes….colourful expletives and threats are unacceptable as much as balloons full of excrement and nude protests. So I wasn’t joking when I said Happy New Year. My resolution is to be far more constructive and positive, and as a result, at my next review, my community service will need not be extended and I'll be able to quantify genuine progress has been made with regards to anger management and public disorder. So Daniel mate, hope you appreciate the positivity and maybe see you soon for a round of golf? I’ll have my people call your people.

Here are the awards in full.

-

The Michael Malcolm Award for Most Promising Youngster

A pulsating midfield dynamo. Who else? Jermaine Jenas. Think Gerrard with bling. This wonderful box-2-box CM continues to show the potential that will one day make him a seasoned world-class England international. A player that has everything. Cheeky eye for goal, but as effective defensively as he is offensively. Much like Michael Carrick’s uncanny ability to read the game so well, getting to the ball before the need to tackle for it, Jenas too possesses a sublime, almost majestic stride to his game that sees him ghost around the boiling points in central midfield, observing play and then proceeding to allow it to flow so that he can find himself positionally effective for assessing the next midfield battle. Absolutely unflappable.

Tottenham’s MVP 2008

Unprecedented this. An award that is deservedly shared between Robert Keane (posthumously) and our returning on-loan striker, Jermain Defoe. Thoughts and prayers for our former Irish king-pin forward who is solely missed by all. The brilliant talisman was the tormentor of many and the scorer of many more. Football is a darker place without his smile and vibrant personality. Defoe is on his way back from Pompey having been recalled from his loan spell at the sea-side club. He’s had a wonderful time there, scoring plenty of goals, and regaining his place as an England international. A year older and worth a few million more in value, the complete fox in the box striker is back in Lilywhite. The master of beating the offside trap, Defoe’s added ability of holding up the ball and playing neat one touch passes in and around the box will fill the void left behind by Keane and Berbatov. Unlike players of Darren Bent’s ilk that can’t drop deep or help out in midfield when teams overload that particular part of the pitch, with Defoe back in the side, there is no limit to the tactical deployment Redknapp can utilise in-game.

Most Shrewd Transfer Dealing

The riddance of Steed Malbranque. The duff jewel in the triple-play £17M transfer mugging we dished out to sorry Sunderland who also paid out for Teemu Tianio and Pascal Chimbonda. A superfluous player, all glitz and glam with no head-down work ethics. This French prima donna much preferred posing in front of mirrors in the changing room than working hard for the team out on the pitch. Best described as a quintessential highlights player, always looks good for those 20 seconds on Match of the Day, but lacked the presence for consistency over a prolonged period. A deserved victim of the Ramos/Comolli cull, which saw other players leave the club during the summer for far more realistic valuations. The income from this tasty bit of business would then be spent on David Bentley, banishing all memories of 'Steeeeeeeed' forever.

Best Heart-in-your-mouth Moment

Arsenal 4 Spurs 4. Simply put, one of the games of the century. What were you doing when Spurs scored in injury time? If you weren’t there or watching it in a pub or at home on tv, then the only way you could possibly excuse yourself for missing out on this effervescent NLD is if you were standing on the Grassy Knoll with a gun in one hand and a flux capacitor in the other. Spellbinding match, including possibly, in pure footballing terms, the finest goal scoring moment of 2008. A cracking effort, forged in the fire of £16M worth of ingenious quick thinking and electric natural ability. Bentley’s goal was sensational. The game should have ended right there on the basis of its undeniable technical beauty. Alas it didn’t. But nobody complained. At 3-1 down, it’s safe to say most Spurs fans had long ripped out their own hearts in poetic suicide, leaving the dismay behind as they began their journey home, pondering and practising their excuses for the morning after.

Those that hadn’t left, soon did when the score mocked them at 4-2. But behold, the last chapter of a modern day classic. Each page revealing a twist towards its audacious finale. Joyful to the small contingent left in the corner of the ground. Gut-wrenching to the masses surrounding them. Oh yes, oh yes indeed. 4-2 became 4-3, and in the dying seconds, became 4-4. The diminutive Lennon equalizing for a share of the points. Imagine that. A second earlier the ball struck the post from a stonking Modric shot, which had everyone frozen in time, hearts in mouth, all awaiting the final twist to an epic evening of football. And with a dink, a smile and a celebration that buried a fan, it was all over. Victory claimed.

Best Official DVD Release from the Spurs Shop

There have been some quite magnificent games in the year that was 2008. But there’s no doubting the best 90 minutes that found itself neatly wrapped, with additional ribbon, sitting in everyone’s Christmas stocking. That’s right. Spurs 5 Roma 0. I’ll repeat it in case you momentarily went blind or blinked when reading the previous sentence. Spurs aka Tottenham Hotspur 5 (five) Roma 0 (zero). How can anyone ever forget that balmy Sunday afternoon in August?

Incredible performance from the Lilywhites, one that any young football scholar, not old enough to have witnessed the great Spurs side of 1961, would have been drooling over. A sexy, sassy mixture of push and run and deflowering free flowing play that saw the Italians decimated in 90 minutes of golden football. Roma experienced a Vikingesque rape and pillaging that had grown men in the stands tonguing each other in celebration.

The DVD includes plenty of special features, including ‘director’s commentary’ from David Bentley who talks us through his brace, including Thunderbolt Cam, which allows you to relive David’s 20 yard first-half stoppage time classic from 5 different angles including a specially devised ball-cam animated segment which shows the ball on its journey from his foot to the back of the net from the perspective of the actual ball. There’s also an interview with Dider Zokora on his monumental midfield dust-up with Roma winger Marco Cassetti, that captured the hearts of all that witnessed it. Terry Venables discusses and compares the incident to the legendary Mackay v Bremner ding dong from yesteryear and reveals how, in essence, this modern day tussle between two players at the top of their game was better. Don’t miss out on the limited special edition of this DVD which includes additional highlights from the 5-1 away day demolition job of Norwich City including the documentary ‘Foursome’ about Darren Bent's double brace and also the stunning holographic Star jump cover of David Bentley.

The Crowning Glory Award 2008

No doubting the moment. The magnificent 2-1 Carling Cup Final victory at Wembley against Chelsea masterminded by double UEFA Cup winner, Juande Ramos. Football is sometimes like an ocean. Each wave fading into the sand, while you wait for the next one, hoping the tide will reach your feet, soaking them in glorious salt water. It takes a man of great presence to guide you closer to the waves and allow for you to dip your feet ankle deep into the sea with no further frustrating need to wait for the tide to come to you. Ramos bought the tide to us. And we almost drowned in its beauty. Berbatov, in what would be his last significant performance for Spurs, along with legend Robbie Keane, were outstanding on a day that saw us fight back from 1-0 down to claim an extra-time 2-1 win thanks to the clever header from our defensive rock’n’roll centre-back, Jonathan Woodgate. But much like the ocean, football can sometimes produce the perfect storm. One with tragic consequences. Juande peaked too soon. Our ocean covered in an ugly slick from an exploded French oil tanker. As you know, Ramos has since moved on, but credit where it’s due. He led us to Cup glory and a safe passage back into the UEFA Cup. Not since the famous George Graham side of 1999 had we witnessed such giddy heights of progression.

The Tanner Literary Medal of Honour

One word has been on everyone’s lips this past year. Opus. This breathtaking collection of high definition photographic gems, some never seen before, and sharp incisive words detailing the history of our great club from year zero to the present has captured the imagination of the Spurs faithful. Such is the demand for this top-heavy must-have, that the club have taken the step to bring it to the fans by wheeling a copy out at every home match half-time interval. Why go to the Spurs Shop or even submit your interest on-line when you can be in its very presence at White Hart Lane? But that’s not all. Amazingly, the club is selling raffle tickets allowing one lucky person per week to pick up a copy at a cost of a couple of quid. And with around 4000 of these events scheduled into its White Hart Lane roadshow, you might just strike lucky. If you prefer not to gamble, for personal or religious reasons, don’t hesitate to order an Opus directly from the club. You’ll find the price competitive and if you are a keen investor, this purchase has mouth-watering sell-on value.

The Irving Scholar Lifetime Achievement Award for Astute Boardroom Tactics

Ridding the club of the leprosy that was Martin Jol and inviting Juande Ramos to offer his services to the club was textbook professionalism in the name of evolution. Daniel Levy directing Comolli and Kemsley masterminded a dizzying moment that won’t be forgotten for a very long time. The dissection of Jol’s football soul, publicly exorcised for all to see during the Getafe defeat at WHL, was Machiavellian magic at its finest. A true tour-de-force in power play politics. With Jol burning like a fly caught in a night lamp, Levy unveiled the Spaniard to much acclaim. The result? Silverware. European qualification. The dismantlement of the DoF system followed, allowing for a more traditional manager to take the place of the departed Ramos who has gone onto a new challenge, to help a team who play in white reclaim some past glory. It’s an obvious speciality that we tapped into first. How can one possibly follow on from such an appointment? One does not because one can not. Not yet. Levy must once more begin his search in earnest for the next man destined for the White Hart Lane helm and this is no easy task. It will take time. For now, we have our esteemed interim manager Harry Redknapp steadying the ship in perpetration for the next bottle to be smashed against its hull.

While Jol huffed and puffed for more than two seasons, Ramos, swiftly showed us all how it’s done. Credit to the chairman. Not since the day Alan Sugar pointed at a young Nick Barnaby and proclaimed ‘That’s our new East Stand!’ have we witnessed such a magnanimous display of commitment to all things Tottenham.

-

Regards,
Spooky

Draft complete

3 months since the last Dear Mr Levy letter. Daniel gets a new one tomorrow morning.

Whoop.

2010: A Spurs Odyssey

Dear Mr Levy,

You truly are a God amongst men. I have shivers running down my spine. Such is the positivity, from fans and the media.

Edgar Davids, the Dutch midfield legend, in the Lilywhite shirt.
Jermain Defoe, England’s most promising, prolific young striker.
Ledley King, one of England’s strongest, quickest and most reliable centre backs. All the top top clubs are after him.
Michael Carrick, a midfielder who will compete within the England backbone for years to come.
Top internationals in all positions and players with Champions League experience.
England’s number one, on a 7 year contract.
The nucleus of the England U19/U23 team.
Competition for every position from established stars and young internationals.
Pundits treating us with respect and quoting us as genuine would-be contenders to the Top 4.
A realistic destination for top players. Players – experienced or promising talents – want to join us.
We have ridden the crisis of our Sporting Director defecting to Chelsea. The impact of his departure is almost as if it didn’t happen.
Martin Jol. Legend. A man who turned down his dream job in his native country due to the passion for the job at WHL.
And you, Mr Levy. A chairman who acts with courage and dignity and has the overwhelming support of the fans.

And if that wasn’t all, over at Arsenal, things are looking grim.

They’ve lost their talismanic captain.
Their key transfer target has snubbed them for a bigger club in Spain.
Key remaining players are in contract disputes.
They have yet another player with a prison sentence hanging over him.
They have abandoned their famous shirt for the new season.
And they are soon to be moving from Highbury to an even more soul-less library.

This is a good time to be a Tottenham fan. We are not building a squad. We are building a dynasty. The future is bright, the future is white.

That was July 2005.

Let’s jump ahead to October 2008.

We have no defensive midfielder.
We lack firepower and understanding upfront, hoofing the ball to the forwards.
Ledley king is crocked and hardly plays.
Carrick is at United. We do have Jenas and Zokora though.
We still have internationals. Like Tom Huddlestone.
We’ve replaced England’s number one with the Brazilian version.
The nucleus of the England U19/U23 isn’t relevant if the Spurs 'kids' never make it into the first team.
Little competition exists, due to us selling players and not replacing them. The competition then turn up in Sunderland shirts and beat us.
Pundits, who did predict success for us, have swept that under the carpet, and prefer to point and laugh. No respect is forthcoming.
We are a realistic destination for panic buys.
We have a DoF system that doesn’t work and is proving to be the catalyst for disaster.
Juande Ramos. Spanish, and unable to speak English, 100% of the time. Looks detached from the on-field mess.
And you, Mr Levy. A chairman obsessed with profit margins and business rather than football progression. What happened to speculate to accumulate?

And if that wasn’t all, over at Arsenal, things are looking more than decent.

They have Theo Walcott.
They have bought the new Zidane.
Key players (Adebayor) have settled their differences and remained at the club.
They have several young super-kids making the grade, and looking great for the future.
They play with pride and passion in their red and white shirts.
The Emirates is still a Library, but they are never short of a good read.

This is not a good time to be a Tottenham fan. We have a decimated squad. Dynasty? This is more like The Colbys. An utter utter shambles. The future is bleak, the future is chocolate brown.

Let’s skip ahead to March 2010.

We have finally have a defensive midfielder. Didier Zokora. He is kicking lumps out of the opposition.
The re-signed Raziak is knocking the goals in for fun with the prolific Kevin Doyle by his side.
Captain Dawson leads us from the back.
No one misses Jermaine Jenas, who signed for West Ham United and is now an England regular (keeping Lampard out of the team). Who needs him with Marney and Reid back in our midfield and the work ethic of Nigel Quashie?
Huddlestone marshals the midfield, dominating the Opta Stats.
Alnwick is a legend in goal.
We don’t have the nucleus of the England U19/U23 teams, but we do have some great discounted bagels in the West Stand
We have a ton of competition thanks mainly to our new transfer policy (Robbie Savage on a free).
Pundits have us down as genuine title winning contenders.
No DoF. Just Terry Venables as our Sporting Director.
And ex-Intertoto Spurs legend, Alan Pardew as coach.
And Steve Nash. A chairman who is leading us clear of the opposition. Eighteen points clear, and well on course to claiming the Football League Coca-Cola Championship.
Champions. Title winners. Open bus parade. Updated version of the Opus on the cards. The cockerel is strutting and crowing.

WE’VE GOT OUR TOTTENHAM BACK!

And now back to the present day, October 2008.

I wonder what the future holds Daniel? I hope your legacy - your five year plan - works out just fine.

Regards,
Spooky