Boycott England

#6

International break will be over after this evening and tomorrow we can all start to look forward to the weekend and Fulham away. Bread and butter will never taste so good. Don't know about you, but I've already got my gram and hooker at the ready. However, the clock still needs to tick tock into Wednesday before I ruin my nasal septum whilst having a twenty-one year old wrap her legs around my neck.

I've been positively brain dead with boredom. Placing aside daily routines consisting of travel and work and household stuff (did someone say baby?), I've had to find ways to amuse myself, keep myself entertained. It's not like there are no Tottenham stories doing the rounds out there. There are plenty. But you'll have read them. Countless times. I'm not inspired enough to write up commentary on said stories either. Again, mainly because there's not really that much to comment on, and there are plenty of media outlets and sites echoing the same bits and pieces of rumours and quotes.

I've said all I've wanted to say about Gollivan and Brady. But that hasn't stopped me from crashing my lolcopter whilst reading how West Ham have had a huge boost in their bid to claim the stadium from the grasp of Spurs. Three words. Northumberland Redevelopment Project. The Olympic stadium is a 'back up' a 'ploy'. How many times now? Move the f**k on.

Then, I think at the start of the break, there was Comolli trying to take credit for the players he signed during his tenure that are doing so well at Spurs currently. Cheers for that Damien. Do you also want to take responsibility retrospectively of the fact the club signed mis-matched individuals with different levels of application and varying styles of ability and technique that as a collective didn't quite gel and blend together until after you (director of football, right?) was sacked? What? No comment?

Oh look, I'm commentating. Stop it. Down boy.

Sigh.

Once the England game is done and dusted we can start talking tactics and formations with complete freedom and begin the padding up process of our knees to help deter the potential for jerks post-final whistle over at Craven Cottage this Saturday. Ah yes, back to reality.

So, how exactly have I amused myself other than writing up these journals, burning the midnight candle? I haven't, if I'm perfectly honest. Seems the England disease has infected my tolerance level and I have become susceptible to various ills and tragedy. I'm practically draining the soul out of my body. I've done nothing with my 'free time'. To elaborate:

X-Factor
Sleep paralysis
Peppa Pig
Eye-balling a fox that was rummaging through the rubbish bins
The only way is Essex

I've hit rock-bottom.

This is England, this is torture. I've even starved myself of James Richardson's puns, bless his brilliant bald head.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrgh!

So, as I've not been paying any attention to football news or found the patience to, I'll comment on the above list rather than whatever the heck is going on in the England camp at the moment. Regular readers, I apologise for the off topic meltdown. Day trippers, it's how I roll.

X-Factor - The newspaper coverage is almost akin to some of the BS you get about our beloved football club when the reporting bends reality to suit the headline and the hype. It's all self-serving and keeps it in topic. Do people honestly believe the judges (other than Cowell) have the full responsibility of selecting their 'final three' for the live shows? Cheryl Cole is there because of her undisputable beauty. That's it. You'll probably asking (again) why I even bother. Well as previously stated, it feeds my cynicism. I need a fix, and I'm happy to tap my veins on a Saturday night to get it. The first of the live shows was particularly uncomfortable car-crash viewing, yet behold, according to the 'experts' it was magical/brilliant/amazing.

Close your eyes and you could have been listening to Jamie Redknapp and Richard Keys telling you that the bore-draw being played out on Sky Sports is an epic 'chess game'.

Are people fooled by all this or do they know, but just like to pretend they don't? Watching this show, angering the blood, at one point I was certain I could see red, but alas, I had just subconsciously stabbed my eyes out with a pen.

Sleep paralysis - You're awake in bed, but you're not. Unable to move a muscle, buried under overwhelming fear of the unknown. You can’t get up and you can't wake up. Stuck in the limbo that exists between sleep and awakening. It's just like being in the singing section at the Emirates.

Peppa Pig - Countless potatoes references. Pigs and various animals driving cars stuck in a traffic jam. Banging theme music. Childrens television is made for magic mushroom consumption.

Eye-balling a fox that was rummaging through the rubbish bins - Next time, and there will be a next time, I will dismantle the sonofabitch piece of filth, bone by skinny bone.

The only way is Essex - Buckhurst Hill is where they frequent. Oh the shame of these plastic superficial twats, twatting around with daddies money. There are plenty of characters in and around Essex, so what do we get? Clichéd stereotypes attempting to act out their lives in forced exaggerated stage set-pieces in a production that makes The Hills look like Citizen Kane. Head butting the tv has never felt so great.

That's it. Someone tweet me when Liverpool go into administration because I'm immensely looking forward to the follow-up to that hugely embarrassing video Mike Jerfferies made with fans and 'celebs'  where they all cry into the camera about how the Yanks have been raping the Anfield club and yadda yadda yadda. I might have sank low these past two weeks what with my ITV brain haemorrhaging session, but compared to the scousers, at least I've retained a degree (be it a little) of self-respect.

Peace. Out.

And for the love of God, COYMFS.

You've been reading the sixth and final part of Spooky's International Break diary journals.

Part one - International Heart break

Part two - Tottenham till I die

Part three - A spoon full of sugar makes the Venables go down

Part four - FAO Sullivan, Gold and Brady

Part five - In defence of Robbie Keane

THFC: Infuriating the soul since 1882

I remember back in the 2006 season when rather than take the ball into the corner of the opposite end and waste away some precious dying seconds in our favour, we opted to attack. Not long after, the opposition scored with practically the final touch of the game. I guess being a Spurs fan we tend to have the uncanny ability to see into the future. Hands up if you knew, just knew Leeds would score a second?

I'm not going to blame Bale by the way, he's been superb - if still very much inexperienced in other areas. As a generalisation, the team + manager should carry the weight of disappoint as one.  We just didn't work as a balance unit and far too many individuals under-performed over the course of the game.

Credit to Leeds for never letting their heads go down, but fuck me, where was the stamp of quality, the killing of the game that would see out the final moments? Twenty five minutes of football is not enough to win any game. And as much as this was a great Cup tie for the neutral and an exceptional one in the stands, out on the field (for the home support) it's nothing more than further evidence that something needs tweaking. More than one thing in fact.

So, no stamp of quality when it mattered. Well, the one, being the Roman goal which was expertly taken in both build up and finish. But overall, what we got was some of that wonderful irony only Tottenham can do. Dawson, brilliant tackle. No no no, I'm not talking post-match in the showers. I'm talking about the tackle on the pitch that came before the clumsy one that gave Leeds a last second escape - scored by Beckford who displayed more belief in one spot kick that Defoe has managed in his last three. That olde self-destruct button head-butted. Would you believe it.

I don't care for the magic of  the FA Cup. Fact is, they're League One. And the tragic truth is that for all our efforts on goal we made scoring more difficult than trying to seduce a nun. It's a trend. It's a problem. And if you want to be all critical and depressive you might argue that we are declining in form. Degrading. It's not a massive problem, not a crisis. Not yet. But those doubts that hark back to the need to improve squad depth are calling out again. Practically screaming. Once more - not enough leadership.

Let's break this down:

The Atmosphere

Proper old skool innit? Police dogs growling, horses charging down the Park Lane. Scuffles here there and everywhere. Not that I'm condoning this sort of behaviour. It gave the evening a bit of an edge. Shame our players couldn't match the tenacity on the field. Although I did laugh when I read today over at Glory Glory that someone saw a chair fly past them (Block 53 I think) just after Defoe's pen miss.

The Performance

There were moments when the gulf in class between the two sides was evident. Especially the opening 20 mins or so. Counts for nothing when you don't stick 'em away. 19 shots, 17 on target across the whole 96 minutes. We are fast becoming masters of denying our own destiny. Open the door, walk through it. Don't close your eyes, spin around and then run and hope you make it through.

Danny Rose didn't make too much of an impact out on the wing, but he's a kid. Whether he turns out to be a bit special like that other one we plucked from Leeds remains to be seen. One thing is for certain, we need width in our team. We sort of got it. But it was in no way the same type of intensity Lennon provides.

The midfield failed to inspire. Yet another limp Jenas performance. All heart not brain. Remind you of someone? He's just not very good. And he's became the poster boy for the boo-boys for all that's wrong with our team. Then again, he's always been the poster boy for mediocrity which on occasion spikes towards something above average. He's a good lad, but has no decisive application when it matters. Cat's have nine lives. JJ has got through around two hundred so far.

Defoe and Crouch were quiet, not really doing enough damage in the final third. Defoe and his penalties, how tiresome is this becoming? Obvious again he'd not score. You can read it in his face. Lacks the eye of the tiger. Can someone else not have a go? Also thought he was a bit slow at times.

Everyone else was okay. Hutton looked tasty at times getting forward. Nothing outstanding from anyone. The lack of end product the main gripe. As ever. Bale, for all his required need to improve defensively, continues to impress offensively.

Leeds displayed grit and Beckford got into tasty positions. We've sort of gone off the boil a little at the back. Their equaliser was shambolic from our perspective.

Memo to Redknapp: Tweaking, not tinkering please guv. Get the engine room sorted, the tempo set and the best players (in form) in their proper positions.

Roman

Deserves a start. Okay, I'm not going into a knee-jerk about it but he came on, run into decent positions, had a decent touch or two and scored a goal from a great passage of play (nice step over dude). Worked hard off the ball too. He's hardly had a sniff this season. Considering the 'form' of our other three strikers, we've got little to lose. Well, other than a few more million off his prospective transfer fee. Nice celebration from the Russian. I think he might have smiled.

Tactics

Summed up with Keane coming on to play on the wing/midfield. It doesn't work. Although time-wasting shouldn't be a necessity against League One opposition, considering we got ourselves 2-1 up, we should have killed the game. Possession wise or with the aforementioned 'taking the ball into the corner' trick.

The replay, next round

It's gonna be tasty. And they will came at us like men possessed. Powder-puff ethics will have no place in their cauldron of hate. It's going to be massive test of character. Do we have the testicular fortitude? Do we ever?

No negative tactics please Harry.

Love to see how we line-up, but I'm guessing Palacios will start this time round. The tempo will no doubt be relentless, the noise crucifying. Gonna be some away day. Bolton await in the next round for who dares. I know 4th is perceived as more important than silverware - in the long run - but it's been way way too long since we got to a proper cup final.

Arsenal

Plucky kids gave it a go, bless 'em, but it's no shame for them to be knocked out because it was only a yoof team comprising of kids. Guess there's always the risk when you play so many kids. How did Theo play?

LMFAOROTF

Kids.

ITV Coverage

Anyone catch any of the tv coverage? Jesus wept, what commentary. How many 'marching on togethers' did you hear? Yes we get it. You're covering the football so you want an upset. No need for you to wet your panties every 5 minutes.

Conclusion

We welcomed Leeds into the game simply because we failed to capitalise and bury them out of sight. Confidence drops a little, theirs improves enough to cause doubt and concern. We need to dig deep and re-discover the lost mojo because if things continue to fester, we're going to find ourselves in trouble.

We never make it easy for ourselves. Which is why supporting this club is so great. Even if your football soul is dragged through the mire half the time.

Next up

Massive game v Fulham. Lose that and we are officially in crisis. I suspect the first 'sack the board' flag to be waved in the following game.

COYS.