Tag: Dane Scarlett

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Spurs match reports

Spurs 2-1 Burnley: Four Tottenham Talking Points

1. Left-Back: Skipp

A penny for Emerson Royal’s thoughts, what? Truth be told, the lad seems to harbour such delusions of his own ability, genuinely convinced that no finer player than he ever trod the earth, that he probably viewed the selection of Skipp as a means of protecting him for the City game on Tuesday.

Skipp it was then, following a steady cameo at unorthodox left-back vs Liverpool. I suppose there cannot be many footballers it’s easier to tell apart than Oliver Skipp and Destiny Udogie, and these differences evidently stretch beyond merely physical appearance. Where Udogie is partial to a gallop from within halfway to the edge of the opposition penalty area – with or without the ball – Skipp is evidently a bit more reserved about the whole business.

Skipp is no doubt the sort who, when crossing a road, will look right, left and then right again – because one can never be too sure – and he brought this attitude of good common sense, with a dash of the old ‘Safety First’, with him into the arena yesterday. That is to say he seemed happy enough to venture forward over halfway and well into enemy territory, but only once sure that the back-door was locked first. More Ben Davies than Destiny Udogie, I suppose one might say – and as fourth- or fifth-choice, and still finding his feet in the role, that was no bad thing.

The one shame about his performance was that for the goal we conceded he paid rather cruelly for the briefest lapse of concentration. If any of the sticklers amongst you has ever queried precisely how long a “split-second” lasts, I’d suggest rewinding footage of yesterday’s Burnley goal and casting an eye upon young Skipp when the move is at its genesis, as for the briefest duration – a split-second, if you will – he gazes at the ball and the ball only, subconsciously taking a step or two towards it and rather letting drift from his mind the existence of that Brun Larsen fellow behind him. And that, alas, was all it took.

The B.L. nib had a yard advantage, and unlike Skipp was facing towards our goal, when the foot-race started, factors that did much to seal the deal. Ultimately, to use a sentiment that I suspect will one day be the epitaph on Skipp’s Tottenham career, while his honest endeavour could not be faulted he just did not quite make it.

As an aside, I did note something similar last week, when Skipp chased the shadow of Mo Salah for 20 yards before the latter deposited the ball in the net – but on that occasion the flag was raised. To this day it is unclear to me whether Skipp was actually in the wrong position, or whether Salah escaped him precisely because he had the unfair offside advantage. Either way, it would be understandable if our boy is yet to master some of the finer positional intricacies of the role – and let’s face it, that Skipp is even in the frame when these desperate sprints from halfway begin is something of an improvement, given that Porro and Udogie have spent the whole season being caught a good ten yards further up the pitch.

2. Left-Back: Van de Ven

So apart from his involvement in the goal conceded – or lack thereof, I suppose – Skipp’s afternoon passed without too much drama, either in terms of Emerson-esque moments to infuriate or Udogie-esque moments to take the breath away. The plot thickened like the dickens on 75 minutes however, when Skipp was replaced by Dragusin, who duly gave a Skipp-esque performance low on items of note, and the consequent re-jig saw young Van de Ven shoved over to the left.

AANP being a laid-back sort of egg, I took in this sorcery with an accepting enough nod; but for some amongst the tribe the move of VDV to left-back was evidently pretty sensational stuff. To update those who just watch the football and don’t pay too much attention to the noise, there has been a pretty rowdy minority waving placards and thrusting petitions about the place which have called for precisely this rearrangement in the absence of Udogie. “Give Dragusin a chance at centre-back,” goes the catchy refrain, “and more to the point let’s see Van de Ven at left-back, given that the chap is lightning quick, pretty comfortable on the ball and left-footed.”

So when the relevant stars aligned at minute 75 yesterday there was some pretty gleeful hand-rubbing going on about the place, as VDV At Left-Back campaigners got their wish. And lo, our newly-minted Best Performing Old Bean (and Best Performing Young Bean, to give him his full list of accolades) rose to the occasion like an absolute pro. Having provided a couple of immediate hints that he was in the mood, by gamely exploring the higher echelons of the left touchline, the manner in which he took his goal was enough to clasp the hand to the forehead and mutter a pretty meaningful “Golly.”

The fact that VDV was where he was in the first place, in order to avail himself of Maddison’s pass, spoke volumes. Maddison received the ball 10 yards north of the centre circle, and VDV was another 10 yards north of him – occupying what hearty traditionalists of good sense and sound mind might call an inside-forward sort of spot, in between Son out on the left and Scarlett in the centre.

To give it a different translation, he was in precisely the sort of position one would expect of Udogie on his more adventurous days, and as Maddison rolled the ball towards him he scuttled off in between the lines, as the knowing sorts like to say, into that space between Burnley’s midfield and defence that is guaranteed to cause looks of consternation to be passed around between them like a hot potato.

Having the gumption even to pop up in these environs I thought spoke volumes about the chap’s grasp of the role requirements and eagerness to partake of the attacking aspects of the binge; but then to collect the ball in his stride, skip past three quarters of their defence and finish the thing off was an absolute triumph, and wildly out of keeping with our laboured efforts in front of goal for something like the last six months.

In particular, I was rather taken by the dip of the shoulder that left the various Burnley sorts pirouetting on the spot like malfunctioning robots in need of instruction and direction, followed by the coup de grace, a remarkably thoughtful directioning of his shot one way when it looked for all the world as if nature was gently coaxing him to shoot the other way.

The usual caveats apply I suppose – only Burnley, only fifteen minutes – but it was a spot of quality the like of which we have sorely missed in the final third, and it poses quite the head-scratcher for Our Glorious Leader ahead of City on Tuesday. VDV at left-back is one thing, and as auditions go, this was one to file in the ‘Flying Colours’ category; but the whole issue also hinges on the delicate matter of whether that Dragusin chap would therefore be able to handle about eighteen foot of Haaland lumbering about the place.

3. Romero

Football is, of course pretty reactionary sort of guff these days. I mean to say you can’t lob a brick without hitting someone who insists that a current player is the best there’s ever been, and that there is nothing to a game beyond goals and assists, and generally peddling the slightly Orwellian line that there’s no point harking back a bit because football didn’t exist back then. And in keeping with this train of thought is the notion that the stand-out defenders are the ones who scored, because nothing else matters.

AANP does not go in for this mode of thinking, and as such will quite happily place neatly to one side the fine finishes of both Messrs VDV and Porro (who, to his credit, leathered his goal like an absolute missile – and then, fuelled by adrenaline, spent the remainder shooting at every opportunity). The standout chappie for my money was young Romero. The other pair may have each had their eye-catching moment, but Romero seemed to excel throughout.

Admittedly he did not have a great deal to do at the back, one early block being pretty much the sum of it, as Burnley pottered about fairly cluelessly throughout, but coming forward I thought he became an increasingly useful cog. He picked passes, ran with the ball and ran usefully without the ball, and generally contributed strongly to the improved second half performance of the collective.

A few inches this way or that and he might also have created a goal for Sarr and nodded one in himself, but all things considered I had him down as the pick of a pretty decent bunch. He will have sterner defensive tests to come – not least on Tuesday night – but that attacking string to his bow was put to mightily handy use yesterday.

4. A Welcome Upturn

Much-needed stuff in the end, both in terms of result and performance. No doubt it helped to play literally a Championship team, Burnley being pretty poor in every respect, but nevertheless, one can only do one’s best against the fodder placed in one’s way, and our heroes created plenty of chances in the second half in particular.

There were some much improved individual performances too. As ever one cannot escape too far from the clutches of the caveat that it was only Burnley, but it was good to see Maddison potter about the place with a dash more meaning than in recent weeks, and Bentancur similarly looked about more clued up when he trotted on, while Kulusevski improved after a dreary first half, and Johnson took up enough good positions to have scored a fairly straightforward hat-trick.

I was also impressed by young Scarlett, as much as anything else for simply giving us a bona fide focal point in attack as we pushed for the winner, even if he himself did not necessarily make too many seismic contributions.

The whole gang of them bucked up in the second half, albeit added aided throughout by Burnley’s pretty loose and liberal interpretations of playing out from the back, but as mentioned, and after a run of four defeats, one simply takes the win with a murmur of appreciation.

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Spurs match reports

Spurs 0-1 Man City: Three Tottenham Talking Points

1. Vicario and The Goal

The fires of righteous indignation were blazing away like nobody’s business amongst vast swathes of lilywhites after that City goal, with “Foul play!” the principal anthem howled. One understands the sentiment, given that the City chappie was dancing a pretty intimate number with Vicario, but the sentiment at AANP Towers was to give the shoulders a shrug. Seen them given of course, but tend to roll the eyes skywards when they are.

‘Football-playing folk will inevitably bump limbs’ was the official line around these parts, and as the chap’s arms and elbows maintained a relatively conservative existence during the episode, rather than being flailed abaft the head in overly reckless fashion, I was pretty sanguine about the challenge. Spitting feathers and blood boiling at the concession of a late winner of course, ranting and blaspheming into the night sky at that, but not particularly outraged about the decision of the judiciary.  

Rather than launch into a passionate diatribe about the indignity of having his path hindered, I would have much preferred Vicario to have taken the more rudimentary approach in the first place of Cleaning Out Everyone In Front Of Him and Punching The Ball To Kingdom Come. Less scope for perceived injustices that way.

To his credit Vicario did actually get a fist to the thing, despite that City rascal whispering sweet nothings in his ear. His contact was hardly of the Kingdom Come variety, but he might nevertheless feel that he had put in place the basics and could reasonably look to a nearby associate to firm the thing up. It was rather a shame, then, that this part of the procedure having been ticked off, the ball bounced off the back of young Van de Ven, who seemed rather astonished to find himself in the vicinity, and neatly into the airspace of that Ake fellow.

Thereafter there was not much to be done, but with the dust having settled I hope that young Vicario, in his quieter moments, decides to focus his thousand hours of practice on that aforementioned art of C.O.E.I.F.O.H.A.P.T.B.T.K.C. Because in most other areas the chap seems well in control of matters – playing the ball from feet when under pressure, shot-stopping, and so forth. Indeed, these very qualities were proudly advertised on Friday night – City’s press being of the intense variety, and their shots low and punchy. As such, one would not want opponents to sniff a weakness at set-pieces and accordingly crowd and jostle our gate-keeper to within an inch of his life each time. Remedy that chink in the armour, young man.

2. Van de Ven (and Udogie)

Alongside Vicario, young Van de Ven struck me as one of the more impressive of our number. A blessed relief to have him back, for his composure and comfort in possession in the first place, but also, as he rather pointedly emphasised on several occasions, for his red-face-sparing pace, that allows him to save the day time and again, with the well-judged skin-of-the-teeth timing that is the hallmark of so many of life’s finest action heroes.

We muddled through with varying degrees of success without him, but having him back at times feels like having a twelfth player in the ranks. (As it happens, I feel similarly when casting the beady eye upon former N17 parishoner Kyler Walker.) That is to say, the day-job entails performing all the duties of any self-respecting centre-back, but, blessed with jet-heeled pace, young VDV is also able to masquerade as something of a sweeper, racing in from wherever he may be when emergency arises, to act as last line of defence and give it that Kingdom Come treatment. This flexibility was displayed against both Foden in the first half and De Bruyne in the second, to name but two instances, and is a mightily useful bonus string to the bow.

And while on the subject of those who performed adequately enough I might as well direct an admiring whistle towards young Signor Udogie, whose offensive and defensive mechanics both appeared to be in fine working order. Admittedly City had a bit too much joy down their left/our right in the first half, but when Udogie was put to the test in one-on-one combat he tended to deploy either or both of his speed and upper-body strength, as appropriate and to good effect. All a bit futile in the final analysis, but one ought to record such things.

3. Absent Friends

Whichever bean it was who came up with the gag that absence makes the heart grow fonder was clearly quite the football aficionado. It’s a maxim that has heightened the standing of many a Spurs player, from Gil and Winks to Sammways and Nayim, and while some of the aforementioned may have underwhelmed a tad when eventually given their opportunity, on Friday night it was with some legitimacy that I bemoaned the ongoing absences of Sarr, Son and Maddison (and, to an extent, Bissouma).

That midfield in particular needed a bit of guile and mischief. Bentancur, as ever, was doing a fine job of availing himself for passes from the centre-backs, and, despite the rather impatient intrusions from City’s forwards, upon receipt calmly spraying the ball to safe zones; but further forward for approximately an hour we did rather scream out for Maddison.

As has been remarked fairly widely, on a few occasions, various of our heroes overlooked the opportunity to release Herr Werner into wide open spaces, and I suppose one never really knows quite how things would have played out in an alternate universe, but one does moodily mutter that Maddison might have picked him out a bit more cannily than those honoured with selection from the start.

Sarr similarly would have been an asset, with Hojbjerg demonstrating once again that being an adequate sub to see out the final fifteen against a side from the bottom half does not really equate to being the measure of the best team on the planet; and seeing our lot labour to create or finish a decent chance worthy of the name I did also lament the ongoing absence of Sonny.

I suppose it’s more important that we stay in touch with the popular kids in the Title race (or Top Four/Five race if you prefer), than that we turn over Man City of all teams in the Cup. Despite the fact that lamentations towards the absence of a trophy ring louder at AANP Towers than in most places, I’d still take a loss against City at home in an early round of the Cup if we can instead turn them over in a few weeks’ time in the League. And as Our Glorious Leader loosely put it, there’s no huge shame in losing to that lot when they’re a good few years ahead of us in their development (and bank balance – witness them flinging on De Bruyne and Doku, and not even bothering to fling on Grealish, while we had the luxury of Dane Scarlett as our In Case of Emergency call).

So the frustration at the continued absences of key players ought not to be over-egged much further, but as one by one they slip back into the fold, by golly I hope, and to an extent envisage, that we can recreate that early season run of wins.

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Spurs match reports

Vitesse 1-0 Spurs: Four Tottenham Talking Points

1. Eleven Strangers

It might come as some surprise to those who have witnessed AANP rise in incandescence to yell a thousand foul-mouthed curses at our lot over the years, but I actually give the players a lot of slack when, as tonight, they are tossed in as an eleven for the first time, each having never played with the other ten previously (and, on the evidence of tonight, possibly not having met before).

In fact, several Spurs-supporting chums of mine received a message immediately prior to kick-off to precisely this effect. The gist of my thinking at around 17.30 BST was that while these were eleven relatively talented individuals, it rarely works to throw any eleven together for the first time (and that’s the crucial bit – it was their first time). Were this lot to play as a collective for five or six consecutive weeks they might develop into a heck of a unit, because goodness knows there are enough amongst them skilled at keepy-uppies and whatnot. But assemble them like the sort of ragtag group of mercenaries one sees thrown together by fate in mindless Hollywood action fare, and the bar for their first outing will be set low.

So, when Lo Celso, Gil and Scarlett tried a zippy little exchange of passes towards the end of the first half that ended with the ball rather apologetically rolling into an empty space in the Vitesse area, the reaction at AANP Towers was forgiving. The conciliatory hand gesture could be interpreted by those who know me best as meaning “Fret ye not, oh lilywhite heroes, you are forgiven, for AANP understands that razor-sharp interplay takes time to develop.”

One might therefore assume that vengeance points towards Our Glorious Leader, for having cobbled together the aforementioned group of mercenaries. But even here, the mood at AANP Towers is one of understanding and magnanimity. Now AANP is the last person to advocate such dastardly fare as match-fixing, but the arithmetic suggests that if ever there were a good time to rest an entire eleven ahead of a visit to the least bad West Ham team in decades, this was probably that time. For even with the defeat tonight, we are three points behind Rennes, with three games left to play – including Rennes themselves at home. Do the necessaries back at base, and this Europa gubbins ought to take care of itself.

In short, some sympathy for the players for being handed a tough gig; and at the same time few complaints about the team selection.

2. Lazy Attitudes

However, if anyone in lilywhite – or wild elderberry or whatever the heck that that oddity is – thinks that the unfamiliar starting XI grants them immunity from criticism they can unpack another think and sharpish.

No matter what the circumstances, the players on stage ought as a minimum to have run themselves into the ground and have needed to have been carried off by the time the credits rolled.

Instead, we were treated to such sights as Lo Celso losing possession and slowing to a walk, exerting only the energy necessary to fling his arms up skyward. Possession will be lost, alas, such things are inevitable and I’m not about to chide an attacker for attempting a spot of creativity that does not materialise; but for heaven’s sake, then to react by simply giving up and expecting others to retrieve the situation is dastardly conduct, and if I had my way I’d subject the chap to a couple of lashes across the back, without right of appeal.

I single out Lo Celso merely because that particular incident sticks in the mind’s eye, but he was hardly alone. As Glenn put it on the tellybox afterwards, none of that rabble treated this bash like a Cup Final (I paraphrase), when as professionals representing our club, they ought.

Picking on another of the guilty parties, young Gil is one whose effort generally is pretty admirable, but he was chiefly to blame for allowing the chappie who scored the freedom of the D in which to arrange his volley.

And so on. One after another of our number seemed oddly lackadaisical, until, inevitably, we fell behind, at which juncture it was, of course, fresh injections of urgency all round.

Again, at the risk of labouring the point – attacking interplay that doesn’t quite strike oil is forgivable, given that these fellows are not necessarily used to each other’s games; but failure to strain every sinew is not.

3. Back-Up Players

Nor, to my eyes, was this only a failing of attitude. It also struck me that a number of supposedly talented players – seasoned internationals and whatnot – were putting in some pretty solid impressions of a bunch of bang-average performers.

If any of the midfield three were under orders to march in and dictate the game from start to finish, they did a pretty good job of disguising the fact from human observation. Lo Celso did show some bright ideas going forward (more on him below) but Dele and Winks were too peripheral in possession, and none of these three really provided the necessary protection for the back-four whenever the time came to lower the shields.

All of which was bad enough on the day, but given that this was a chance (and, indeed, the latest chance) for all eleven to prove to the Brains Trust that they are worthy of the First Choice XI, it was pretty alarming fodder from all concerned. Heaven forbid, but after seeing Winks, Dele and Lo Celso gradually lose the plot against the might of Vitesse, the old bean does perspire a tad at the thought of either Hojbjerg or, heaven forbid, young Skipp (currently on 4 yellow cards, lest we forget) being rendered unfit for public service in the coming games vs West Ham and Man Utd.

Similarly, upfront, while young Scarlett did not want for effort, he looked every inch a 17 year-old playing against seasoned pros. To chide him for this would be a bit like moaning at the sun for setting each evening. In short, it’s hardly his fault. But should a piano fall from the sky and onto the head of Kane it will put us in one heck of a pickle; and should any errant keys from the rapidly disintegrating piano fly off into the surroundings and poke young Sonny in the eye, I dread to speculate as to the players from whom our next goals might emanate.

It’s a big old squad, but judging by tonight’s fare, those first reserves do not fill to the gills with confidence.

4. Lo Celso

As alluded to, Lo Celso occasionally threatened to break into something resembling a pretty handy performance, which makes his eventual output all the more frustrating.

It can probably at least be said in his defence that what little quality we did produce going forward seemed at some point to pass through his size nines en route. In particular, the Gil shot that hit the bar was teed up by Senor GLC, and I’m pretty sure that when Bergwijn fluffed his lines halfway through the second half, Lo Celso’s were one of those pair of hooves that passed the parcel over halfway.

However, on the whole, without wanting to put too fine a point on it, not much that he tried actually worked. Passes seemed not quite to find their man; attempted dribbles seemed to result in him being tackled; and the whole thing was neatly seemed up right at the death when we packed their area with bodies only for his delivery to sale harmlessly into the stands. In a curious way, his performance reminded me of the early years of Lucas Moura in lilywhite, when he would flatter to deceive before running into a dead end and losing both his bearings and the ball.

Now when Lo Celso played against Mura a few weeks back, he again seemed a shadow of his potential self, when really the stage was set for him to run the show. Things only really changed when the big guns entered the fray – with Lucas, Sonny and Kane around him, Lo Celso played the Number 10 role like a man born to do so.

The nagging frustration is that he seems to need, as a matter of absolute necessity, great players around him to play at his best. Must this be the case, particularly against fairly middling opponents? No doubt having better players to each of the north, east and west will make the day-job a lot easier for anyone; but Lo Celso ought to be good enough still to run shows like tonight’s without needing the assistance of some of the best in the world around him.

On the bright side, as mentioned above, tonight’s result ought not to harm our chances of ultimately winning this dashed trophy; and ought also to enhance our chances vs West Ham on Sunday. It’s rather soured the evening here at AANP Towers though, make no mistake.

Hither for tweets.