All Action, No Plot

Tottenham Hotspur – latest news, opinion, reports, previews, transfers, gossip, rants… from one bewildered fan
"AANP - nobody knows what it means, but it's provocative."

Spurs 1-0 Brighton: Five Tottenham Observations

Check out the AANP YouTube and Twitter accounts for more ramblings

1. A Rummy Tactical Set-Up

So evidently inspired by the hilarity of leaving emotions strewn around the place in tatters at the end of the Champions League quarter-final, our heroes decided once again to leave matters late last night, to similarly side-slitting effect. Oh the japes!

I don’t mind baring my soul and admitting that by the time Eriksen did the honourable thing I was uncorking a bourbon and preparing the palate for a particularly stiff dram. Could not really fault the endeavour of our heroes, you understand, but some of the chosen routes to goal did slightly boggle the mind.

Right from kick-off, I looked to the left touchline, where Sonny lurked, and the right touchline, where Lucas hove similarly, and gave the chin one of the season’s more pensive strokes. Worth a whirl of course – and in defence of Our Glorious Leader, he was not exactly inundated with options.

However, the proof of the pudding appeared to be the countless dead ends into which Messrs Son and Lucas wandered, barely able to deep their toes into the Brighton area, let alone conjure the requisite magic to slice upon the visiting defence. All the while Senor Llorente rather forlornly slunk around in the penalty area, throwing occasional pleading glances towards team-mates in the hope of being allowed to join in.

It was not to be, which was fair enough; but the fact that this was evident so early on is what really got my goat, if you pardon the fruity language. It irked. The system did not really work, so why not change it? Perhaps switching to two upfront, with a midfield diamond and the full-backs pushing further up? Or tucking Sonny and Lucas in more narrowly, outnumbering the Brighton centre-backs?

Piffle, you might well opine, and with some justification; but the nub of the thing is that the selected approach generated precious little reward, so persisting with it throughout was most peculiar.

2. Pochettino’s In-Game Changes

On a related note, the reluctance of Pochettino to twiddle knobs during proceedings will likely be recorded by the record-keepers as one of the few blots on his escutcheon.

I perhaps do him a disservice, because at various points this season, more so than in previous years, he has indeed made an occasional half-time tweak to good effect. Last night, however, was an unwelcome return to his predilection for seemingly forgetting that it is within his gift to alter personnel or system on a whim.

Admittedly, as remarked, he was short of alternatives from which to choose, and one understood the reluctance to opt for the Vincent Janssen option, but changes such those he did finally make arrived only at or beyond the 80-minute mark – and as such bordered on the redundant. Brighton were making a darned good fist of repelling everything he hoicked their way from early on in proceedings, so there would have been some value in trying a different approach at an earlier juncture.

3. The Need For One-Touch Stuff

A further curiosity, from afar, was the inability of our heroes to play any one-touch stuff. One understands that they were generally afforded plenty of space when twenty or twenty-five yards from goal (or further), but they did themselves few favours by their constant tendency to dally on the ball.

It was all control, look around in every direction, take another touch and have a long think before passing. The concept of simply zipping one-twos between themselves seemed utterly alien. And I don’t mean the sort of incisive, dreamy one-twos just inside the area that see Man City and pomp Barcelona cut teams to ribbons; I mean simply a one-two between a couple of chums in nearish proximity anywhere on the pitch. Just whizzing the ball swiftly back and forth can give the opposition a bit of a jolt, and tempt them to follow ball rather than man.

4. Eriksen: Worming His Way Back Into AANP’s Affections

Mercifully, all can be forgiven and forgotten. As mentioned, there was perspiration by the bucketload, and neither Dele nor Toby could have got much closer with their respective efforts.

Ultimately it came down to Eriksen, whose radar had been gradually inching towards the sweet spot throughout the game.

Regular drinkers at the AANP watering hole will be aware that the chap has not been my firmest favourite in recent weeks. It would be a mite strong to say that we had fallen out, but a certain cooling in affections had certainly come to be. I, for my part, have begun to lose patience at his sloppy passing; he, for his part, has passed sloppily.

However, to his credit he has retained throughout proceedings the capacity to rustle up something magical from thin air, and he was at it again tonight, for the goal when it finally arrived was struck as sweetly as a cover drive on the opening morning of a first day at Lord’s.

In truth, as the game wore on and Brighton defended so stoutly that they seemed to become one with their penalty area, our lot increasingly turned to Eriksen to unpick the cuffs and get them out of the frightful mess. And he generally did his best to oblige, constantly probing for the killer pass, and indulging in a handful of reasonable long-distance efforts. In short, he shirked not his responsibilities. Perhaps a truce between he and I might be in order.

5. Angry Danny Rose Excels Again

Not that I want to lavish too much praise upon Eriksen, mind, for the star performer from my vantage point was Danny Rose.

Taking the field in a his usual angry mood, he kicked off proceedings by sending a Brighton player flying skyward with a slide tackle by the corner flag that served no purpose other than to show the world quite how angry he was; and he simply became angrier thereafter.

On top of which, he established himself, during the first half at least, as possibly our most creative outlet. Formally assigned the left-back role though he might have been, these days Danny Rose is pretty convinced that he is Paul Gascoigne, and he duly gambolled into central midfield whenever he could, because you could be dashed sure nobody else was going to dribble past an opponent.

The second half saw him stick a little more rigidly to the left flank (although he simply would not be caged, and at one point almost thumped one in from range with his right foot, which seemed to juggle the laws of physics a tad). As the game wore on, his star faded a mite – and Eriksen’s burned brighter – but nevertheless, he injects an energy and aggression into his every performance that sets a pleasing tone for those around him.

All things considered, this was another one of those peculiar episodes, with our lot beavering away relentlessly yet seeming to do so in quite a counter-productive way for much of it. However, the Top Four is pretty dashed close now, the new stadium remains a fortress and it is the credit of all concerned that they stagger on with resources so depleted.

AANP is now on YouTube and Twitter; and AANP’s book, Spurs’ Cult Heroes, is available on Amazon

Brighton 1-2 Spurs: Four Tottenham Observations

1. Welcome Win, Slightly Improved Performance

For those of you who have been merrily camping under a rock for the last few weeks, pre kick-off this particular binge had assumed a darned sight more importance than your average ‘Brighton (away)’. Three defeats, fatigue, drink-driving, transfers (or lack thereof) and incomplete building works had all contributed to a general sense that the four horsemen were fastening their buckles and giving their mounts some final instructions.

It was therefore with a mixture that was around one-third surprise and two-thirds relief that I noted the perilous nature of the situation had made itself known to our heroes, as set to work trying to unpick the Brighton lock with sleeves rolled up and concentration etched all over faces.

Our lot prodded and probed, and although there was a conspicuous absence of the sweet, sweet sound of oil being struck in that opening half hour, things were at least a notch or two zippier than in recent weeks.
Brighton, understandably enough, began proceedings in rather cautious manner, supplementing their back four with a couple of midfielders, a striker and just about anyone who happened to be passing through the south coast with half an hour to kill. The massed ranks proved tricky to breach, so thank goodness for the flailing paw of Glenn Murray.

Thereafter, needing to chase the game, our hosts hit upon the idea of doing some attacking of their own, and the game segued from one of history’s more passive chess matches to a harum-scarum game of playground football in which the bell is about to sound and life depends upon scoring the next goal. Gaps duly appeared for our heroes to exploit, and on several occasions we appeared to be one devilishly-executed pass away from sewing up the thing; but at the other end Brighton were rushing around like a pack of wolves that had scented blood, and worried glances were being exchanged like nobody’s business in our ranks, which was pretty telling.

Mercifully, the added layer or two of quality in lilywhite picked a good moment to make itself known. There might have been a bucketful or two more perspiration involved than was entirely comfortable, but given recent history I suspect I’m not the only one glad that we simply made it off the pitch with three points intact.

2. A Good Dembele Day

The sages paid to opine on these things picked Danny Rose as their star man, and one does not want to begrudge the honest chap, but at AANP Towers preparations were being made to pin the relevant rosette to one Mousa Dembele.

This was not so much a game in which he orchestrated everything like a criminal mastermind in an underground lair. It was more the fact that every time he popped up in the centre of the pitch, he simply did the right thing.

If a tackle needed to be made, he went a-crunching. When fed the ball he either glided past the nearest bemused opponent, or rolled it onwards to a chum. And on more than one occasion when a teammate got his feet into a muddle and Brighton looked to pinch the thing, Dembele came racing across, extinguishing materials at the ready, to douse flames and restore calm.

(Quite what the nearby Eric Dier made of this repeated purveyance of well-executed decisions is anyone’s guess, but I rather suspect that he gasped and said “What ho!” In fairness, this was not one of Dier’s increasingly common bad days, and his incisive forward pass to set in motion our second was a useful reminder of that of which he’s capable. Nevertheless, as often as not the chap is errant in his passing and a little ill-judged in his tackling. It all lends a little bafflement to the notion that we bought nobody this summer because there was no room for improvement on the current mob.)

3. Hints of Kane Returning to From

It is impossible to swing a cat these days without crashing into someone armed with their own thesis as to why Harry Kane has not been sweeping all before him in recent weeks like some modern-day Hannibal.

Various theories expounded by those in the know include the fact that Lucas is elbowing him out of position and into a spot somewhere nearer halfway; fatigue has the poor egg in its clutches and won’t let him go; a newborn baby is depriving him of sleep; it’s hardly his fault when the team aren’t giving him much of a sniff of goal; and confidence has drained from him.

The considered AANP opinon on all this is to offer a generously-sized shrug and wonder if it is some combo of all of the above (apart from the confidence thing, perhaps – the chap’s self-belief throughout his career has been trumpeted throughout the land ad nauseam, on top of which he’s just won a World Cup golden boot and put to bed the whole August-curse nonsense, so it seems rather a stretch to imagine that a couple of goalless games has him laying awake every night riddled with self-doubt).

Whatever the reason, the whole debate struck me as beginning to disappear from view yesterday, as during the second half in particular Kane rediscovered his joie de vivre and, for the first time in around six months, began to hare towards goals, shove defenders aside and effect some nifty footwork as appropriate in order to thump a shot from distance and on-target.

This happened three times in the closing stages, and while each shot was admittedly of the meat-slash-drink variety for the goalkeeper, each episode felt like a welcome return to the Kane of yore. It was of an ilk not seen so far this season, during the World Cup or generally ever since that ankle injury vs Bournemouth in March.

4. Late Concession

Our second goal was Sunday-best sort of material, and allowed us to canter towards minute 90 in pretty rare fettle – but this being what it is, and our lot being who they are, there was naturally one of those plot twists that is advertised as “Unexpected”, even though one had a pretty hefty inkling it was coming all along.

Brighton’s goal was the latest in a pretty meaty catalogue of Fairly Soft Goals Conceded By THFC In Season 2018/19, on top of which there was still time for us to lose possession and usher them in for another shot at goal, despite there only being around 90 seconds on the clock.

I suspect if that had gone in cracks might have appeared in the sky and an impromptu riot begun by Spurs fans across the land, so thank heavens for the safe hands of young Master Gazzaniga.

More broadly however, something does need to be done to stop this particular brand of rot. If we have a lead, and a game is meandering fairly aimlessly towards a victory, the Brains Trust and all involved dashed well need to find a way to ensure that the meandering continues apace and victory ensues with minimal fuss.

Both Watford and Inter were allowed back into games that no casual observer would have believed would finish as anything but a lilywhite victory, and last night we came within a gnat’s wingspan of making an almighty muddle of things yet again. Yesterday’s victory was deserved, but this habit of complicating the serene march to victory really must stop, dash it.

Like what you read? AANP’s own book, Spurs’ Cult Heroes is available on Amazon…

Brighton 1-1 Spurs: Four Tottenham Observations

Hmm, difficult to know what to make of that one, what? A bit of a struggle to find the delicate phrase that sums it all up. Not that my old man, AANP Senior, had much trouble, mind. “Rubbish,” was his pithy assessment as the bell sounded, and I suppose it’s hard to disagree.

1. The Central Midfield

Being an enlightened sort, who is all for a new wheeze once in a while, I have no problem with the modern concept of ‘change’. A spot of invention is as likely to do good as harm, so if some old bean wants to wheel out a new idea every once in a while it’s fine by me.

However, there is a limit to these things, so when Our Glorious Leader instructed Dembele to put his feet up, and unveiled Messrs Sissoko and Wanyama as his midfield axis of choice, the AANP blood did freeze over a mite.

No doubt both are good, honest chaps, and when it comes to destruction, Victor Wanyama struts around like a bloke who has a diploma in the field. Present him with a slick-passing outfit like Real Madrid, and the chap will likely prowl around like a bulldog scenting blood.

As for Sissoko – well, two years on it is still a little difficult to ascertain quite what benefit he brings to any situation conceivable, but the hound does have an engine on him, even if the connection between feet and brain has something of the Russian Roulette about it.

However, whatever argument one pitches in favour of these two young fish, one cannot look one’s neighbour in the eye and honestly opine that between them they are possessed of the guile and finesse required to unpick a well-organised couple of banks of four. Last night required our central midfield to spot a cute pass and deliver it in nary the blink of any eye. Alas, Wanyama and Sissoko spend that much time bringing the dashed thing under control and carefully laying out all their optins that dew began to settle on the turf around them.

To his credit, Wanyama at least used his destructive capabilities for good, in harassing the Brighton chappie into conceding possession to Son, who created our opener. But by and large, the deep-lying well of creativity was dry as a bone until Dembele lumbered on and began effortlessly rolling past approaching bodies.

2. Full-Backs And The Class Of ‘16/17

Cast your minds back twelve months or so, and you may recall that the Premier League was not quite the one-horse procession of 2018, and the good ship Hotspur was in fact making a dashed good fist of things. All-singing, all-dancing, golden boot-wearing and whatnot. But perhaps key to all this was the quality of our full-backs. Perhaps not, as the counter-argument might go, but still – perhaps.

Danny Rose on one side and Kyle Walker on the left were at the peak of their powers, combining the pace and attacking width of wingers with the pace and defensive upper-body strength of full-backs. Acting as all-rounders in the team, this indefatigable pair sneakily gave us the advantage of effectively having two extra sets of legs on the pitch.

In a team riddled with key personnel, a pretty convincing case could be made for those two being the most important of the lot. Fast forward to the present day and it’s fair to say our tails are not waggling with quite so much aplomb.

Each member of the current gaggle does brim with energy, and they are generally decent wide outlets, ever willing to go flying up the flank in search of glory. But this does not count for much if they consistently peddle utter rot once they get there, no?

To his credit, Trippier does a fairly nifty line in cushion-volleyed-first-time passes (the specimen that set up Dele Alli vs Real makes for a decent Exhibit A), but in general this lot seem to be of the ‘Close Your Eyes And Swing Your Boot’ School of Crossing, with the ball as likely to fly into orbit as it is to bend into a usefully chaotic area.

On top of which, the inclusion of Serge Aurier on matchday is essentially equivalent to conceding a goal start to the opposition, the chap delivering calamitous interventions like a seasoned pro. Yesterday, naturally was an opportunity for him to showcase his imbecilic rot, and he didn’t disappoint, while on t’other side Ben Davies delivered his usual slew of utterly average crosses. It makes the soul droop, it really does.

3. Toby Alderweireld

Might this prove the last appearance in lilywhite of Toby Alderweireld? Quite possibly.

One ought not to quibble with Daniel Levy and his careful management of every last penny, but it does seem a dashed shame that when we hit upon a world class egg like Alderweireld, a reason is promptly dug up to kick the chap off the premises and make clear to him that he is no longer welcome to break bread with us.

Davinson Sanchez is a hearty young buck, and in time might well become one of the best of the lot, but at present he still gets his head in an occasional tizz and blurts out the wrong lines. Toby, by contrast, is near faultless, and together with Vertonghen they form quite the bedrock. But what is one to do?

4. Harry Kane’s Fitness

I asked after Saturday’s defeat, and in that keen analytical way of mine, I’ll ask again now – is the blighter fully fit? There seems to be a slightl sluggishness about the fellow ever since his return, as if he is approaching the latter stages of a particularly gruelling cross-country trek and, all things being equal, would not say no to a cup of tea and a roaring fire.

Not a bad call from Senor Poch mind, to pull him back into the Number 10 role in the second half, as it at least meant that the young bean got to see a little of the ball. It still came to naught, but at least reacquainted him with his erstwhile spherical chum.

I do rather hope that the spring returns to his step fairly sharp-ish. We may well have fourth spot just about in the bag, but to put it bluntly an FA Cup win would be a darned sight easier if Harry Kane were donning a cape and leading opposing defenders a merry dance.

Like what you read? AANP’s own book, Spurs’ Cult Heroes is pretty reasonably priced on Amazon…

All Action, No Plot © 2019. Theme Squared created by Rodrigo Ghedin.