Times a-changing? Keep up - they’ve already a-changed. ‘Tis now generally agreed, either publicly or otherwise, that Tottenham are the best team in North London; the “St Tottingham’s Day” bet with my Arse-supporting chum Hawthy is fast becoming redundant; and following the weekly toasting of our own latest bravura successes we lilywhites as a regular side-note are also able to amuse ourselves by sniggering at the ongoing and quite spectacular implosion of that ‘orrible lot down the road.
What this means is that by any measure one cares to use (with the exception of “having that Van Persie chap loitering in our colours up the top of the pitch”), our lot have the upper hand. Which seems to lead smoothly to the conclusion “Huzzah! We shall triumph!”
Their Cup Final
Alas, this is not necessarily guaranteed, as is evidenced by the last time we travelled to a side so patently inferior. (Moi? Inflammatory? Never!) It happened relatively recently – just last weekend in fact – as our heroes dutifully trotted out onto the ill-disguised bobble-fest that was Stevenage’s local park, and encountered a team of honest, average, jolly hard-working blighters who understandably enough treated it as their Cup Final and consequently kept us bay. A further gaggle of distinctly average types awaits on Sunday, as l’Arse ready themselves for what is now their Cup Final. Bless.
A struggle awaits then, be ye in no doubt, for as with Stevenage last week so this lot will strain evey sinew for the privilege of presenting themselves as our equals, if only for an afternoon. More pertinently, away days against Top Four(ish) teams tend not to bring out the best in the glorious heroes of N17, as has been evident from the slightly meek display at Anfield a few weeks back, and countless under-performances at Old Trafford, Stamford Bridge and indeed the Emirates/Highbury over the years. A mentality more akin to our usual blitzkrieg modus operandi would therefore be welcome on Sunday.
In terms of personnel the news can be loosely qualified as “spiffing”, with Adebayor, BAE, VDV and Modders all available again, following their various ailments and maladies. Presuming that Ledley and Kaboul are also niggle-free and fighting fit that ought to give us just about our first-choice, pick-themselves XI. A trip to l’Arse is never straightforward, but their current vintage are liable to collapse faster than Robert Pires in the vicinity of an outstretched leg, so frankly the pre-match scenario could scarcely suit our heroes better. Your adoring public awaits chaps.
Entertaining and exciting, with a most satisfying finale – oh that the game had matched the quarter-final draw, but we can’t have everything I suppose. Should I ever cross paths with His Eminence The Lord of Time there are one or two queries I would throw his way – whether Superman’s little fly-ruddy-quickly-around-the-world jape really could turn back time, for a start – but high up there on the list would be a polite request to have my two hours back after the excruciating trudge through treacle that was our draw with Stevenage. Far better to have an off-day in this particular fixture i suppose, than against l’Arse or Man Utd in the coming weeks (or indeed against Newcastle last week), but nevertheless, ‘twas the very antithesis of one of those rip-roaring unforgettable classics, to which we have been treated so frequently.
My Eyes! My Eyes!
Irrespective of formation, had those eleven played with a tad more sense and desire they would have made short work of Stevenage. Alas, the early, simple one-touch method was jettisoned for one that could aptly, if rather lazily, be described as “certified nonsense”, and as a result our heroes failed to string three successive passes together, the ball more typically being launched into orbit or pinged inaccurately sideways, as Spurs fans around the globe reached for nearby stabbing implements and went to work on their own eyes.
Of positives there were but few – the prospect of Stevenage and then Bolton, both at home, barring our way to the semi-final proving the most obvious reason for cheer. Young Livermore seemed to keep his head when all about him were losing theirs, to his credit, but that aside there was precious little to blow up anyone’s skirt until Aaron Lennon was brought on for the death throes.
Lennonlessness And Its Associated Problems
Strange to note just a week after we beat Newcastle 5-0 sans Lennon, but without the jet-heeled swagger-meister we can be dreadfully lop-sided. A reserve with similar oodles of pace would be a useful option, for while Niko Kranjcar’s technique is as dreamy as his looks, to point out that he lacks somewhat in the pace department is hardly likely to set the interweb alight with incandescent twitterings and the like. At times Danny Rose showed the value of a turn of pace to reach the byline, but against better opposition he is typically stymied by his one-footedness. With both Bale and Lennon available to charge down both flanks we ooze menace and threat and other such dangerous-sounding nouns, but in the absence of Lennon it can all become a tad predictable. (The name Junior Hoilett was bandied around during the transfer window, but scoutery of others’ players is not at all my forte, so while reports suggest that he has pace and two good feet, I can, alas, offer zero corroboration.)
Swerving back on-topic – in truth a replay against this mob, at the Lane, is tickety-boo with me. If it can be sandwiched in between 4 points or more against l’Arse and United, all the merrier, and we can all set about diligently forgetting that this ever happened.
Complacency (noun): A feeling of contentment or self-satisfaction, especially when coupled with an unawareness of danger, trouble, or controversy
Just saying. However, given that we are now blinking well the best team left in this whole bally competition, it would be a dashed shame if we whimpered our way to the exit door with the derisory hoots of assorted Stevenagonians ringing in our ears. Best avoided, methinks. Two goals in the first fifteen minutes seem to do the trick these days.
This being non-Premiership, one can safely assume that Ledley will watch from the comfort of his luxury villa, knee safely submerged beneath great big sackloads of ice. Quite who else may be afforded the afternoon off is open to conjecture. Friedel tends to benefit on such occasions, and with l’Arse and United looming ‘Arry may look thoughtfully at Modders and Bale, and wonder if their services are really absolutely entirely necessary today.
Here at AANP Towers the latest useless one-man petition to gather pace promotes the motion that young Kyle Walker should be omitted from proceedings today. With Corluka shipped off to Deutschland (and setting up goals against Barcelona in the Champions League, of all things) we are a little deficient in the right-back department. In an emergency we would probably shove Kaboul across and reshuffle accordingly, but that does make things rather messy elsewhere. The absence of alternatives means that Walker’s health and safety is now jolly important to our continued success, an equation with which I must admit my brain struggles to cope, but thus have events transpired.
Cudicini, Nelsen, Rose, Livermore, Kranjcar and Defoe will presumably feature today, and Stevenage keeper Chris Day can reminisce teary-eyed about the day he coached a bunch of wide-eyed whippersnappers including a 10 year-old AANP, but ultimately, whatever the small-print and details, our lot ought to continue the pleasant stroll to Wembley.
Anyone else reached the slightly absurd conclusion that we should really win all but two of our remaining 27 fixtures? The bubble will presumably burst at some point, but if the earth continues its merry rotation around the sun in the time-honoured fashion of a few thousand years there is little reason to expect anything other than the standard, slightly tortuous three-point haul.
However, while on paper, or indeed the interweb, our lot should outdo West Brom , anyone who fails to recall our frustrations against West Ham, Wigan et al last season need only refer to England’s recent one-shot-on-target victory against El Spanish a couple of weeks back. Note ye well, oh lilywhite heroes, this may prove a struggle, despite our player-for-player superiority. In particular, the concern around these parts centres upon our ability – or lack thereof – to defend set-pieces.
Wholesale team changes are somewhat unlikely, but some murmurings suggest that VDV might be a doubt, in which case ‘Arry must decide whether to employ Defoe within a 4-4-2, or something a little more circumspect, possibly involving Sandro. One would be inclined to slap a proportion of the weekly earnings upon “Away Win”, and another Villa-esque stroll would be quite ripping, but one suspects this could be slightly harder work.
Another chance for us all to pore laboriously over he pros, cons, t’s, c’s and minutiae of the Great VDV or Defoe Debate this afternoon, and with the added caveat that, this being a home game against a newly-promoted mob, we really ought to grab the bull by the horns and play two genuine strikers. In fact, if I were in charge I’d leave Friedel to sort himself out with only Kaboul for company, and stick the other nine in attack, but ‘Arry will presumably be a tad more circumspect. The chances are that Lennon will be dropped, Defoe will partner Adebayor in attack and VDV will start on the right, before looking suspiciously at the touchline and deciding life is far jollier when wandering towards Modders, Adebayor and other chums straight up the middle.
Elsewhere the usual concerns can be reeled off – fourth and fifth choice centre-backs, general juggling of Sandro, Livermore and Parker alongside Modders, but they should all be moot concerns. Both on paper and on grass we ought to destroy this mob. Convention and decorum both dictate that the usual glut of insincere guff ought to be droned ahead of this one – they’re a good team, we’ll treat them with respect, and the world is really just a fluffy orb of wonderfulness where nobody offends anybody and we all gambol happily in the meadows while lions and lambs play hopscotch together.
Here at AANP Towers we find it difficult to keep up the pretence however, and have no particular inclination to avoid showing them disrespect. In fact I hope our lot dispense with respect from the off, and treat them with such superiority, disdain and disrespect that mothers keep cover their children’s eyes and old ladies tut in disapproval. Nine times out of ten we’d beat this lot at the Lane, so let this be one of those nine. A couple of early goals ought to crush their spirits, after which we can focus on notching up the goal difference.
(So that’s 1-0 to QPR then…?)
Never mind the game today, have you seen Sandro’s hair? Heavens above. The fellow has done the most extraordinary things… have yourself a perusal at around 1.50 on this clip.Of secondary importance is the visit of that red mob. In what might as well be a 17-team division competing for fourth spot, Liverpool, along with those relentless purveyors of comedy at the Emirates, represent our principal rivals – which makes this quite the key clash in the grand scheme of things.
There’s a lip-smacking midfield battle in prospect, because if Modders, Parker and Henderson can stop fiddling with their hair long enough to lock horns, with Charlie Adam also in tow (but alas Sandro and his coiffure still sidelined), this could be quite a rambunctious to-do.
I cannot help but furrow the brow at the prospect of Suarez and/or Carroll making merry amongst the Tottenham back-line, the Uruguayan’s bag containing all manner of tricks, while Carroll, for all his issues with fitness and the bottle, strikes me as precisely the sort of hulking nuisance who has traditionally tossed aside feeble Spurs centre-backs and blasted into the top corner. I fret. Much depends on the presence or otherwise of Ledley alongside Kaboul, for none of Bassong, Corluka or Livermore inspire much confidence.
Mercifully, up the other end of the pitch, the odds seem to be stacked towards lilywhite as Adebayor faces up to Carragher, who appears to have been studying the rugger world cup just a little too diligently. The world seems a brighter place with a bona fide striking presence pounding the turf in lilywhite, and as such I’m optimistic that the Liverpool net will bulge many a time and oft this lunchtime. Keep them quiet at the other end and the points will be ours – in which context Ledley’s fitness is key.
AANP’s bosom swells with pride in announcing that the youngest nephew this week began school this week, poor blighter, and similar feelings of satisfaction and reminiscence no doubt occurred to ‘Arry as he sent forth the various assorted whelps and whippersnappers still too young to watch Goodfellas, to do us proud on the corner of some foreign field last night.Encouragingly, to a boy they all seemed happy to play the Tottenham way, possessing an instinct to pick a 10-yard pass at any given time, rather than walloping the ball skywards at the first sniff of trouble. The kids may have lacked a little thrust in the final third, but they can hardly be chastised for this, given that the same affliction has weighed so heavily upon the various feted international strikers – and Peter Crouch - employed over the last 18 months. Livermore seemed pretty determined to demonstrate that he can make it in the big bad world of central midfield without a grown-up holding his hand; the new chap Falque showed the occasional moment of eyebrow-raising, nod-inducing flair; while it is too early to tell whether Harry Kane will make it as a top-level pro at the quite disgusting age of just 17, but whatever career the young blighter embarks upon I suggest that he’ll make a darned good fist of it, for in the field of blistering self-confidence he was mightily well-stocked.
Bar the last few nervy minutes our kids held their own, and were certainly unlucky not to win a penalty, although history suggests we’d have contrived to miss it anyway. If you excuse me a moment of optimistic, misty-eyed speculation, the fact that just about our third choice XI (nine injured, plus another ten rested) can hold PAOK to a draw, in front of what sounded like the blood-thirsty mob from Gladiator, then we ought to go on and win this whole ruddy nuisance of a competition. With one or two additions our kids could probably see us through the group stages, and thereafter, with the cream of Europe otherwise engaged, I hazard that Bale, Modders and VDV would pulverise all-comers at a canter; but whether it will be worth fielding the big guns in the latter stages, as the Top Four race narrows to its conclusion, is presumably a different kettle of fish.
(As a valedictory note, I leave you with the heart-warming sentiments of PAOK boss Laszlo Boloni: “It was a nice game”. Bless.)
Old hat it may be for everyone else, but here at AANP Towers we bounce around the walls like toddlers on a strict diet of fizzy drinks and E-numbers as we await the start of our Premiership season. Still, rather than pacing the corridors, rubbing hands together in feverish anticipation until tomorrow night, it occurred to me that the time is rather ripe for making public the various musings that have echoed around the walls of AANP Towers all summer. By golly that’s right – in no particular order, it’s the All Action No Plot Ten-Point Wish-List for Spurs’ Coming Season!1. Solve The VDV Conundrum
This one moonlights under the crafty pseudonym “Get Our Strikers Scoring Again”. While he has more talent than the rest of our forwards put together, the uneasy truth may be that VDV’s presence has rather discombobulated our strikers. Like gravity and the temperature at which water boils, that Messrs Pav and Defoe prefer playing within a front two is a scientific truth. Indeed, given a weekly starting-berth and a 4-4-2 one imagines that both would be capable of hitting 20 goals a season (although maybe not alongside each other). However, playing as the lone striker supported by VDV suits neither.
The solution we’ve been screeching from the stands for over a year is the purchase of a striker capable of playing on his own, Adebayor now apparently having displaced Llorente and Rossi atop that particular list. Be it a new signing, or somehow shoving VDV into a 4-4-2 - or even as my Spurs-supporting chum Ian recommends, shoving Bale up top - we really need our strikers to hit 40+ goals between them this season.
(While there is the Crouch option, which does sporadically bear fruit for VDV, my fragile mental state is such that I may eat my own brain if I have to endure another season of his headers flying off a random angular point of his cranium and looping gently into the Paxton.)
A moot point admittedly, because if he comes ambling towards us making a heart with his hands it means a you-know-what scored by you-know-who, and we would all gratefully accept one of those each week. Nevertheless, one can hardly imagine Bruce Willis skipping off with heart-shaped fingers after capping a bad guy, or Mike Tyson acting similarly after pummelling some poor blighter back in his hey-day. Tyson bit off people’s ears dagnabbit, and while that might be a tad extreme, I hope that this season Bale produces something a bit less akin to an eight year-old girl celebrating the creation of a daisy-chain.
3. Kyle Walker to Prove He Can Defend
Having existed on a right-back diet largely comprising Vedran “Usain” Corluka and Alan Hutton last season, hopes are high for young Master Walker, particularly after his loan at Villa somehow ended up with him being shoe-horned into Fabio’s England squad. I confess I barely watched Villa last season, but Walker’s U21 exploits this summer made interesting viewing: plenty of youthful brio when flying forward, but defending remains a crucial - if oft-overlooked – facet of being a defender, and on this topic the jury at AANP Towers wandered out and is yet to return. Harking back to his occasional Spurs appearances a year or two back (Bolton/Blackburn away?) he looked promising enough, but a hardly the finished article, a soft penalty numbering among a couple of mistakes.
He will get his chances, particularly in the Europa League, and looked impressive enough against Hearts, which might help answer the crucial question: can the lad defend? Until that one is answered I’d quite happily go with Kaboul at right-back.
4. Pav to Stop Whingeing
When the mood takes him he’s a mighty fine player, one who seems to delight in scoring spectacularly from 25 yards rather than anything more mundane, but goodness me, Pav acts like a big old baby at times. He was not built for a 4-5-1, nor has he had a consistent run in the team, so one sympathises, but every time a butterfly sneezes near him he squeals and goes down, and whenever a pass is placed a couple of yards beyond him that look of pained anguish is etched across his face, tears seemingly just around the corner, and arms inevitably a-flapping. For goodness sake sir, life is not fair, it’s the same for all of us - just roll up your sleeves and get on with it.
5. Hudd to Speed Up
6. Fewer of Those Goalkeeping Clangers
Oh to have been a fly on the wall during transfer negotiations with Brad Friedel. Presumably he has not joined with the intention of warming those comfy-looking seats on the sidelines all season, yet Gomes appears the custodian as we chug along towards the belated season opener. Nevertheless, Friedel’s arrival can be interpreted as a shot of Jagerbomb at the Last Chance Saloon for Gomes: no more flapping. And that incorporates the fumbling of straightforward, straight-at-yer shots approaching with all the power generated by a sedated kitten, as well as general flailing at corners. Early signs, from the friendly vs that Spanish lot and the Europa game vs Hearts are not entirely encouraging - Gomes’ shot-stopping looked decent but one can almost hear the panic bells ringing in his head as a set-piece is delivered in his direction…
7. Don’t Sell Niko Kranjcar
A
dmittedly the opta stats would probably reflect that Pienaar covers about three times as much ground as Kranjcar, but while he may be a tad, ahem, languid, the Croat has undiluted magic in his boots, and given our struggles to break down rubbish teams last season he may have delivered that je ne sais quoi for which we searched in vain. On his rare opportunities last season he delivered a couple of belting strikes, and in midfield against the admittedly rubbish Hearts last week he looked imperious. Still, when Bale was absent ‘Arry seemed willing to try everyone but Kranjcar on the left, and the signing of Pienaar was about as unsubtle as it gets when it comes to ‘Arry’s plans.8. Joe Jordan to Eat Someone
Literally. Deep down he must be dying for a fight, and having restrained himself against Gattuso last season maybe, just maybe, Joey Barton or Arsene Wenger may push him just a bit too far on the touchline this season…
9. Finish in the Top Four
10. Owen Coyle to Take Over When (“If”) ‘Arry Leaves Next Summer
Controversial one this, not least because, as the pedants amongst you will have noted, an a wish-list for this season ought not to concern itself with next season. However, the chances are that when Fabio scrams in summer 2012 ‘Arry will cry God for England and St George. I admit immediately that my knowledge of up-and-coming European bosses is negligible, but of the British lot Coyle impresses me. All sorts of caveats here - not least that he’s unproven at a big club, with the cash, egos and whatnot - but he turned Bolton from a loathsome long-ball team to one that plays jolly decent passing football. Just a thought.
“You mean it will be difficult?”
“Very.”
“Well this is not Mission Difficult, Mr Hunt, it’s Mission Impossible. Difficult should be a walk in the park for you.”However, the chances seem increasingly slim that we will all have smug Tom Cruise-esque grins etched across our faces come May. Difficult has today shuffled furtively towards impossible with the news that Modders is out of action with appendicitis, poor lamb, joining just about everyone else at the club on the sidelines. In addition to the absence of Bale it presents rather a test of our attacking mettle, while so critical is the situation in defence that Johnathan Woodgate is apparently being readied for action. Gary Mabbutt presumably limbers up on standby.
However, the starting eleven tonight ought still to be a competent bunch, and in the longer-term the impending fixture-list positively leaps off the page and begs us to string a run of victories together. Blackburn tonight, then Bolton at home, Sunderland, Blackpool and Wolves away, West Ham at home, Wigan away and Stoke at home all present winnable opportunities to any self-respecting Top Four-chaser. Six points adrift of Chelski as of kick-off, this would be an opportune moment for our heroes to develop a few good habits.
“This was our best chance for silverware this season. I now think we’ll end up 6th and lose to Milan on aggregate. Back to the same old Spurs.”Thusly opined my Spurs-supporting chum Ian immediately after the full-time whistle on Sunday, presumably running out of characters in his text message before he could predict relegation, liquidation and the end of the world. Of course, he may be quite right – sixth may be pessimistic, but fifth looks increasingly likely, alas; while elimination at the hands of AC Milan is hardly beyond the realms of possibility (personally reckon we’ll win that one though).
Nevertheless, the whole Sunday afternoon debacle prompted philosophical shrugs amongst the denizens of AANP Towers, rather than wails of despair and a dash for the nearest noose. Play like that every week and I may well join Ian in donning the sackcloth, ashes and a sandwich board proclaiming the imminence of the end, but it seems reasonable enough to expect that such days will be the exception rather than the norm in the coming months. That our heroes have taken something of a liking to the strategy of self-demolition in the first fifteen minutes of a game is, admittedly, a tad troubling, but these complete meltdowns do tend to spring forth from within our defence, from time to time, and if they can be confined to the less important Cup matches then I’m happy enough to dismiss them with a sheepish look and some mumbled excuses. Onwards.
