1. Given over to dissipation; dissolute.
2. Recklessly wasteful; wildly extravagant.
Perhaps not precisely the word then, but as the second half wore on, comfortable though it all looked, the sense grew that we really needed to convert all that possession and all that slick build-up play into a second goal. We threatened a few times, but did not create the really clear-cut opportunity our play merited. “Recklessly wasteful” might not necessarily encapsulate the problem, but we certainly wasted 80 minutes worth of very good possession.As a result, through gritted teeth I at least try to console myself that we played well. Play like that for the final eight games and we ought to make Europe. Still three points lost though.
If short-diagonal-passes-inside-the-defender were women they’d be alluring brunettes with flawless hour-glass figures, and I’d salivate while staring at them too. Some of our football, particularly on the counter, was a delight to behold.
If Wilson Palacios were a woman he’d be a scary fat bird. I would desperately try to avoid eye-contact, and generally steer clear. For 80 minutes Palacios demonstrated why he’s exactly what Spurs have needed for so long in midfield, allowing others around him to try those little sultry-brunette-style diagonal passes.
(N.b. Painful to admit it, butI ought to mention that Jenas is looking the part at the moment. Nothing spectacular, still gets caught in possession occasionally, but he’s generally moving the ball intelligently, and supporting the front men.)
The Big Decisions
While it was our own fault for not scoring the second and wrapping up the game, there is not much doubt that the sending off of Palacios swung the game. General discombobulation followed in our defensive lines.
However, it’s long been a mantra here at AANP Towers, whether playing or watching, never to criticise the ref. The day I play the perfect game, making not a single mistake, is the day I perhaps earn the right to have a go at him. Until then, whatever the ref says, goes.
The penalty: seemed fair enough. Having been six or seven yards away when the cross was played the defender had some time to get his arm out of the way. Seen them given, seen them not given; on this occasion it was given.
The second yellow card: on first glance it also seemed fair enough – rather clumsy. The slow-mo replay then suggested that it was actually rather unlucky, as young Wilson did make a valiant and fairly successful attempt to duck out of the challenge.
Such musings are academic though: the ref gave the penalty, and showed a second yellow card to Palacios. So, through gritted teeth again, I’ll accept the latter decision and move on.
Sam Allardyce Is Bad For Football
In between pickling my liver and dancing badly for three years, whilst at uni I stumbled across Immanuel Kant’s categorical imperative. It states:
“Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law.”
Seems fair enough. Generally prevents such unholy deeds as rape, pillage and suchlike. If Kant’s categorical imperative were applied to Allardyce’s brand of football, no-one would watch any more and the game would die.I could have understood if he resorted to the centre-back-as-auxiliary-striker in desperation, in the final 15 mins, but to do so from half-time onwards was an astonishingly brazen admission of his philistinic approach to the so-called Beautiful Game. Did he really have nothing more subtle and aesthetically-pleasing up his sleeve? Teeth are still gritted, but as a nation let’s all at least exhale collectively in relief that he failed to land the England job.
So that’s another lost three points we can wistfully add to our end-season tally, and think of what might have been. Generally a good performance though. Maybe just a bit “profligate”, or whatever the appropriate word is.