Life just seems jolly unfair sometimes. We might I suppose have lost 6-2 if Adebayor had stayed on the pitch, but the first 15 minutes at least suggested that our heroes had bounced out on the right side of bed this morning and sneakily indulged in an extra Weetabix at the breakfast table to boot.
A thousand violent curses then upon the devil on Adebayor’s shoulder. No complaint at all about the red card, but it is nothing short of maddening that the game swung so completely (and so early) at that moment, something l’Arse did not earn at all but had gifted to them entirely by us. Pardon me while I wince at the sourness of the grapes in the AANP fruit bowl, but I cannot help grumble that this ages-old affair between l’Arse and Lady Luck continues. Still, ‘twas a mistake by a Tottenham player, so ‘twas only right that we reaped accordingly.
A 5-2 defeat in this game of all games would not ordinarily endear the glorious leader to fickle armchair followers such as yours truly, but I rather fancy that AVB earned himself a few points today. The selection of both Adebayor and Defoe away from home was a most unexpected gamble from one who has been peddling conservatism quite so sedulously, but by golly for those 15-odd glorious opening minutes things seemed to pootle along swimmingly.
Similarly, the half-time switch to a vaguely 3-5-1-looking formation seemed to put a little fire into bellies, at a time when I suspect I was not alone in fearing we would submit like resigned lambs philosophically accepting slaughter as just part of life. 5-2 was hardly the desired scoreline, but the manner of the second half performance and AVB’s second half tactical adjustment gave grounds for optimism. To live by the sword and die trying to claw back a two/three-goal deficit is infinitely preferable around these parts to simply limiting damage and accepting defeat with a whimper.
Elsewhere on the pitch
Hudd and Sandro fought the good fight well enough, and until his dismissal Adebayor looked to be making a sterling contribution, while this is unlikely to be a day that will be talked of fondly in the Naughton household for years to come – although the poor lad might have benefited from a tad more assistance from Bale. The handsome young Welshman had a strange sort of day, having seemingly made an early executive decision that team-mates are overrated, and consequently decided to take on the entire Arsenal team, solve the economic crisis and cure AIDS all single-handedly. Not a particularly bad call, for there was further net-rippling evidence today that a Bale on the charge takes some stopping, but the second half chance to pass for Defoe, at 4-2, rather than shoot, would have made life a lot cheerier (a sentiment that is admittedly remarkably easy to express with the benefit of hindsight).
Defeat it is then, but vastly less painful than the Wigan capitulation. AVB remains a curious fish (the goalkeeping selections continue to appear entirely arbitrary) but today it did at least feel like he earned his corn. There are flashes in there, that this season might yet bear fruit.