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

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

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

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

Gone a bit pear-shaped

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

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

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

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

THFC Battle Cry

Dear Mr Levy,

Medusa. It's a bitch. I can smell her stench. It's a sickly smell, one that reminds me of Upton Park, 2006. We've been here before. It's a fate that grates me. One that has to be avoided. Turning to stone is the expected outcome that those who scorn us will no doubt be hoping to witness. Again.

Can we find the guile and courage and craft to severe her head from her neck and leave victorious? Are we prepared for the task ahead, this clash of titanic proportions? Us against the odds. Us against ourselves and our fears, our personal demons?

Do we have what it takes? Do we dare? When Perseus faced the Medusa he was prepared, but that guile and courage - that fearlessness - he had that in abundance. And without that self-belief you won't get far. You won't finish the job. Even if you think you have the right tools for it.

Winged sandals

We are without the devastating speed that Aaron Lennon provides us with, jinxing down the wing, crossing the ball with pace and precision (well, mostly) and sometimes even brave enough to have a go himself. But we do have Gareth Bale, altogether a different type of talent but equally impressive. A beast. Strong and yet wonderfully skillful, there is almost an ironic blessing here to see him shifted into left-midfield from left-back giving us a vital outlet of attack. Vital and consistent, driving and flying forwards with absolute determination. I want to kiss him, run my fingers through his lush thick hair, this man with the face of a monkey, this young powerhouse of a winger. Hoodoo? He eats hoodoo for breakfast with a sprinkling of sugar and a glass of orange juice to wash it down with.

Luka Modric is possibly our most esteemed creative force. But some may argue that he is tied to the restraints of central midfield, without the ability to cut in from the left hand side and dictate the tempo in a way that impacts the opposition far more than standing alongside Palacios. It can sometimes be a congested midfield where the ickle Croatian's wizardry is lost in the dirt and grit. His work rate is unquestionable and perhaps patience is required whilst he adjusts to this emergency position. We all know he is more than capable of getting his hands (feet) dirty and can deal with the physicality just fine. Huddlestone is still out so hopefully Luka can turn on the magic and control the game from the centre much like he does from the wing. We await for his resurgence. But patience is a virtue we do not have.

Niko has a role on the right as we continue to make-shift with so many absent players. Outside of his comfort zone perhaps, but with enough ability to aid us in our quest. As a unit there is enough there to allow us to craft and create and devastate. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

Mirrored shield

If we lost Wilson Palacios to suspension we might find ourselves in a position that might leave us motionless. Unable to side-step any potential final fatal nightmare. Why look into her eyes when you can bite her ankles off? Wilson is imperative. He has re-discovered some of that mojo he had when he first arrived at the Lane. Enough to sprinkle his own brand of Patheresque dominance in his arena. You shall not pass, the message on the door that never opens because he's standing there cool as a cucumber, arms crossed, studs up.

The work he does, closing down and defending and generally shielding the area between defence and midfield allows the more creative players time to muster up some of that ye old Tottenham magic. If we get over-run in the centre, then Modric has no protection, neither does our defence and there is deterioration of structure and balance through the side. As if  turned to stone, unable to move. It's a shame there is no understudy. Yet. The boy from Brazil has never been needed more, alas, he will have to wait and see if its Europa or Champions he'll be participating in next season (if he finally signs).

For now, we live on the edge. What two games will Wilson end up missing? I can think of a couple that will leave me a broken man if he isn't present. Otherwise, we are left with only one alternative. No not Jenas.  We'll need to rush Wilson in for major cosmetic facial surgery to make him look like Jenas. A Jermaine Jenas who has put on some weight since being injured and allowed gravity to shorten his height and make him appear far more stocky than normal. And yet he's a better play for it. Sshh.

As for the defence. Gomes. Corluka. Bassong. Dawson. BAE. With King edging closer to a cameo. Even if people choose to highlight the plight of Ledley and Woodgate and continue to question our keeper who has 9 out-standing games but critics feel the need to highlight one game where he flapped a couple of times. The stats tell a story of consistency and unity at the back, even if on paper we have appeared to be fragmented and stretched. The injuries to our old trusted guard meant our young ones have grown in stature, and have gained worthy experience. It's Spurs, yet I'm not that worried about us defensively. Not half as much as yesteryear.

A sword

To sever the head with. Cutting edge is something that has deserted us once or twice this season, but we have remained consistent and have worked hard to escape out of the lulls that have tested our resilience. Jermain Defoe has been prolific. Crouch not so much in front of goal and the subject of much debate regarding his attacking credentials. Is he a Plan B but not good enough as a Plan A? When he doesn't score, does his selection allow for positives in the way of assists and team play? Or does his presence introduce negatives in the way of long balls and knock-downs which is not the most beautiful or even effective style of play available to us?

Enter Roman Pavlyuchenko. The forgotten man who can't stop scoring. Rejuvenated and confident. Not perfect but a striker who is capable of playing a part in build up play - the type that involves caressing the ball on the ground rather hoofing it up in the air. Something Peter is also capable of but alas sometimes we forget. But he (Roman) can go missing at times. But who can argue against his current goal-scoring ratio to games played? Not me.

Both Roman and JD still have to step it up another level. There are now no games left for us to look back on with regret. Chances must be taken otherwise we'll be taken down. Strike without remorse. No matter the opposition. Show no respect other for one's self.

Cap of invisibility

We are not alone in this quest for glory. There are others fighting to claim full ownership of this particular destiny. It's impossible to go unnoticed. Not when you sit in the position you wish to finish in. Every game is heavily scrutinised pre- and post- match. And if someone wins, expectations are with them, if someone loses they are practically written off. It's misleading, confusing and creates illusions of hope/false hope.

But rather than spend time looking at the enemies around us, predicting and calculating, and instead of showing interest in the battles they will head into and use their results as a means of validation, it is all rendered redundant if we take a different tact on proceedings. In the grand scheme of things if we simply win the games we have ahead of us - it's as much as we can ever do - and our destiny will be in our own hands, under our control. Rather than in the hands of others. It's obvious I know, but the distractions can and have caused us headaches before. It’s time to look away and only look forward.

You might think retaining a level where each game is played as though it was a Cup final is an unrealistic expectation considering our injury plight and the fact that the atmosphere on and off the pitch is different depending on the opposing side and its fans. However, having anchored ourselves up in the Gods - no matter what - remaining there is the sole objective. Regardless of the wounded on the sidelines. Regardless of the mistakes and lost points in the past. We are 4th at the moment. So if we've managed to get there and stay there and reclaim this position during the duration of this Premier League season, then why give it up now?

If we are out of sight the opposition won't be able to see us. If we can't be seen we can't be caught. Playing each game like a Cup final? If the players want Champions League football then they have no other option.

There is nowhere to hide. Regardless of the opposition, regardless of the battlefield. It's heart-on-sleeves or nothing. Speculate. Force the issue. Leave no room for excuses and take nothing for granted.

So step forward Perseus. All eleven of you. And every single one of you in the stands. We might not be facing a Medusa or a Kraken in each remaining week that passes us by, but we may as well be. Because failure is not a path I want us to walk down. Especially the ilk of apologetic failure.

It's time to rip that bitches head clean off her f**king neck.

No hanging of effigies. No burning of season tickets. No boycott of the Spurs shop. No kidnapping and shaving Chirpy. No throwing frozen shit pellets at the scandalously expensive sports cars the players own. And no stalking of you Daniel, hiding in the rose bush beneath your bathroom window watching and recording as you shower and shine your majestic head. I call a truce.

My heart and lungs belong to THFC unconditionally from now until the final day of the season, more so than ever.

Good luck to all of you. Good luck to us all. To Harry and the players. Let battle commence.

Yours sincerely and with eternal faith and belief,

Spooky

Forget the Top 4

There are varying levels of disappointment that exist within this beautiful game we love so much. Watching your team lose is always accompanied by a gut wrenching feeling leaving you empty and devoid of any form of joy. Whether you are down towards the bottom three or mid-table or (like us) pretending to be good enough to break the top 4. We are doing nothing more than flirting with the ideology that the gap between the likes of us, Villa, City etc is no longer a Grand Canyon of impossibility. But that ideology is fact. The gulf is not the monstrous Godzillaesque vastness it was several years ago. Its now sitting somewhere between a teenage King Kong and a new-born Kraken. Ans still formidable enough to rip the head clean off your neck.

Most of us know not to get overly giddy about it. Not yet. Not nine games into the season. Experience has taught us well. We've been there before thirty-seven games in and then seen it implode in ridiculous circumstances. But one off seasons are not quite the same as a full-blown challenge, year in year out. But we can't complain, all we can do is take the opportunity if one arises. Earning membership into the elite at the expense of one of its long-standing members is beyond tricky. Even when they have a lull (which seems to be a shared nuisance that Arsenal and Liverpool own the rights to) they still manage to pull through and renew. Balaclavas and sawn-off shot guns wont be enough to get past the state of the art security that protects them. We (along with the other pretenders) have to add some finesse to accompany the brute force. You need a George Clooney and Brad Pitt to blag your way in.

It must be a little unsettling for their fans as well as their board of directors. Knowing that the money they need for their protection could dry up which would see the Sky collapse in on them. But it's yet to happen. Even when Liverpool finished 5th, they won the CL.

Losing a game always leaves you empty no matter who you are, but losing a game that carries more in the way of expectation is a far worse feeling. And losing a game that is considered a certainty is even worse. The Top 4 have to contend with the threat of the small group of ambitious clubs directly below them and from in-house weaknesses as illustrated by Liverpool's hiccup(s). The more susceptible you are to defeat, the closer to mortality you become. The threat is real. Finally.

The expectation and the anticipation and build up alone is worth it though. Every game is vital although arguably a touch more comfortable when things are going well. Life in the Top 4 is one that is never taken for granted. You can see that with the way arrogance and kidology is used relentlessly to bully and win. Add those two ingredients alongside top draw football and world class players - and you get why its considered absurd for someone like us to break in. And if the seasoned script is not followed to the letter, even though their fans may shift uncomfortably in their seats, the buzz exponentially grows. Its that do or die ethic. Losing. Failure. Its unacceptable and the very thought is blasphemy. Because a return to mediocrity would shatter the hearts of thousands. Which would be music to thousands of others.

Last time we had a taster was in the aforementioned 2006 season when we sat in 4th spot for months. Literally four months. Towards the end it was impossible not to feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness with each passing game. You stood watching, scared shitless of defeat. Because it wasn't just three points at stake. It was the whole season. Imagine having some of that every season.

We only tend to experience that type of intensity in Cup runs and have done so in the past two seasons when we've played Arsenal (semi-finals) and Chelsea (that final). Prem wise, we had the dismay of a relegation dogfight to contend with prior to Harry's revival. And now this season we have that oh so subtle grin across our faces with each passing week as we believe a little bit more with each point collected whilst others around us unexpectedly trip up. It's nice to be thinking about the next 2/3 months rather than already whispering to each other '...next season'.

When we get to January, if we are still up there and the usual suspect or two are still dropping points, then we can start making comparisons to 2006. And when people - within the club or the media - start talking about the CL with geninue belief (and not for the sake of soundbite) - we can actually say it out loud (as fans) that we are in with a chance. Not because we've evolved into a top class side over-night, but because the Prem is more of an open playing field.

At the moment its nothing more than theoretical because there's still plenty of time for normal service to resume. But all we can do is push on and it would be stupid not to think about it. And if we happened to gatecrash the party and lock the door behind us (might need a sofa to push up against it too) we would have to embrace anticipation and expectancy at that higher level making the disappointment of defeat far more draining than a 6-pointer for 7th spot.

A reoccurring membership is better than a guest pass.

Supporters of Utd, Chelsea, Liverpool and Arsenal have come to expect a certain standard. They do not expect to lose too many games. They expect to finish in the top 4. They expect to challenge for silverware.

It’s a completely different type of pressure - on the club and its manager and players - and on the supporters, as a collective. We take it on the chin and we shrug because points are sacrificed as part of a never ending transition and learning curve. There's no choice other than to work hard and hope.

But if we begin to change the mentality at the club and truly hate losing - any kind whether its down to bad performance or bad luck - then we stand a chance. Although these chances of success will always be anchored to the type of quality we have in the squad and reacting professionally when we don't pick up points by making it up for it in the next game.

We - as Tottenham fans - worry and fret and generally hold our faces in the palms of our hands during most games. Regardless of how the next person along might tag the importance of the game. We are an emotional lot, not afraid to wear our hearts on our sleeves, even if it means one or two of us get a little bit over the top with a war cry or a just a plain old cry. Like any fan, we want to see our team win. But we lay extra importance on games (Arsenal, Chelsea, Utd, Liverpool) because we perceive these games as benchmarks of progress. The reality is, its the games against the smaller teams that will always define our steps forward. Beat them - home and away - and let the 'Top Four' smash each other up. And if we nick a point or three in one or two of the games with Utd, Chelsea, Arsenal and Liverpool then its a bonus.

This is not a defeatist attitude. We all know how limp we've been, bullied by the likes of WBA away in the past and dropping points to other clubs that should not be able to compete with us on paper. See that ounce of arrogance creep into the paragraph? It's not meant to be patronising. You know what I'm talking about.

And this season, we've shown we've got steel. We are not a soft touch. We tend to do ok (home rather than away) against the Top 4. But the way we've dealt with the rest has been more than impressive. And we've beaten Liverpool already (no mean feat it would now appear). So its not crazy to suggest we can compete. If we can keep it up, we can. Mental strength and togetherness will be vital. City, Everton and Villa have similar ambitious. Even Sunderland have a swagger about themselves. That's the tier of teams that will pose a direct challenge to us. Those will be the genuine make or break encounters. The rest will be bread and butter games to build the foundations on.

Fact is - expectation, even in small doses, is addictive. 2006 was wonderful (apart from the final 90 minutes). Having that every single season is something I want, even if it results in losing two years off my life expectancy by the end of May each year.

So. Liverpool and anyone else who sits up there in one of the four thrones, feel free to keep on dropping points.

Spurs. Tear Stoke a new one.