Not quite sure how I coped before the World Cup, but by heavens life has been a struggle in the seven days since it finished. A handy opportunity however, to cast the eye over those lilywhites in action this summer, as well as various other bits and pieces at N17.
First-rate stuff though the tournament was, alas it was not the sort of World Cup to have wide-eyed maidens rushing to the top of their towers and squealing the good name of Tottenham. Au contraire, from a lilywhite perspective this has been a summer to elicit sneers of contempt from neighbourhood vagabonds.
For a start, one can say what they please about the performance of our national mob, but before a ball had been kicked a hefty thump to the pride was administered, make no mistake, by the decision to include not a single lilywhite amongst the 23 tasked with making England proud. Worse pickles befall the average Tottenham fan, it is true – left, right and centre on a weekly basis last season, if memory serves – but as the summer began this was certainly a fresh ignominy with which gloating rivals bashed us over the head.
Nevertheless, corners of various Brazilian fields were sprayed a Tottenham hue this summer, thanks to the efforts of a select few from around the globe. Monsieur Lloris did not do much wrong, and was not really to blame as his outfield colleagues waved their white flags and sidled home at the Quarter-Final stage.
The Manaus heat presumably did Lloris something of a mischief however, for no sooner had he landed back on European terra firma than he was signing himself up to another season of Just Missing Out On The Top Four with us. In a World Cup replete with impressive goalkeepers he was up there amongst the best of them, consolidating his reputation, and could presumably have bounced straight off to some CL team on the continent in a jiffy – so his rationale did perplex me somewhat I must confess. Not that he is likely to honour the full five years – presumably he will be off in a season or two for a health sum – but he could most certainly have toddled off this summer had he chosen.
Vertonghen (And Chums)
Back to the on-pitch stuff, and the other highlight from our lot was provided by Vertonghen, who against USA in particular could not have gone about his left-backery in more buccaneering style if he had done so whilst galloping along on horseback, with sword in hand and distressed damsel flung over shoulder. A goal in the group stages is also now proudly emblazoned across the top of his Linkedin profile, so little wonder that Belgium’s demise prompted reports that Barcelona were sniffing around Vertonghen Towers with a glass of sangria and a couple of brochures. Having shown all the interest of a particularly errant toddler being made to watch paint dry during his final few games at the Lane last season, I would not be entirely taken aback if he were to tootle off abroad, but one never really knows what goes on in the inner sanctum.
Vertonghen’s Belgian colleagues were rather more on the underwhelming side. Dembele was occasionally spotted puffing out his chest, letting the ball run away from him and barging folk over, and Chadli also dabbled in a few inauspicious cameos, but few skirts were blown up as a result.
On the Algerian side of the playground young Bentaleb could be seen studiously pinging the ball sideways and backwards and backwards and sideways, before the assorted grands fromage of Algiers presumably got wind of his ruse, and banished him to the sidelines for the knockout game vs Germany.
The most glorious failure was undoubtedly Paulinho’s, who impressively managed to establish himself as one of the worst of an absolutely rotten bunch of Brazilians. He does earn a bonus point for side-stepping the first half of the Greatest Comedy Show on Earth, but one can hardly protest that Brazil’s thrashing would have been avoided had Paulinho been patrolling the grounds from kick-off.
Transfers at N17
Aside from the World Cup, I may be in a minority but the fact that nothing but tumbleweed is currently rolling around the Arrivals Lounge at the Lane jolly well gladdens the AANP bean. Another 51 weeks of this and full-blown stability might actually break out.
I’m not insinuating that our squad is practically perfect in every way – if ever a club needed to knock unconscious its full-backs and stuff them onto a plane, BA Baracus style, it’s our lot with Rose and Naughton – but after the not entirely magnificent seven were scooped up last season, something a little more sedate might be in order this summer. If Pochettino can stick with what we’ve got and snake-charm the magic out of (or into, depending on your viewpoint) Lamela and Soldado I will sink the evening bourbon with a smirk of quiet satisfaction.
And finally, as is customary at this time of year, a new kit has been dolefully plastered around the interweb. Accepting the usual caveats (i.e. if they make Top Four and snag a trophy they can do it in stockings and suspenders for all I care) I fling this one into the pile labelled ‘Underwhelming’. The tribute to Bill Nick is a commendable touch, but otherwise, to this untrained eye, the blue lines across the front seem a tad unnecessary, and a collar might be nice. ‘Tis all much of a muchness in the final analysis – white shirt, blue shorts, heinously over-priced. (Although excitingly, the marketing bods have this year resorted to a Wild-Eyed Look of Rage approach to advertising, which makes a change from chaps standing around with arms folded.)
Shameless Plug Alert – AANP’s own book, Spurs’ Cult Heroes, continues to retail at Amazon and Waterstones, hint hint.