Spurs 3-1 Bodo Glimt: Three Tottenham Talking Points

AANP’s latest book ‘All Action No Plot: Postecoglou’s First Season’, is out now for just £7.99 from Amazon (ebook from £6.99) – while Spurs’ Cult Heroes is also still available

1. Richarlison

Well I think the first order of business is to park myself at the desk and start penning a few heartfelt apologies. There are a several in our number I’ve not missed an opportunity to stick the knife into over the course of this and previous seasons, and they were all queueing up last night to ram various choice words straight back down my throat.

Richarlison is a good case in point. One might delicately say that AANP has not always been entirely enamoured of the honest fellow’s outputs. “Least technically gifted Brazilian ever” springs to mind as a phrase I once tossed in his direction, and although we can playfully punch each other’s shoulders and talk about jokes amongst the boys, there’s no getting away from the fact that that one was meant to sting.

Yesterday however, the honest fellow took to the pitch like a Brazilian intent on letting remarks about his technique wash over him like water. In fact it would not be a stretch to say that he set the tone for the whole humdinging display. 

I don’t mind admitting that when I saw the teamsheet I reacted to his name with a pretty stunned silence. Truth be told, I hadn’t even considered him as an option on the left. Tel or Odobert seemed the obvious choices, Mikey Moore at a stretch. And if The Brains Trust really wanted to embrace their experimental selves, it seemed likelier that Kulusevski, Johnson or Maddison would pop up on the west flank to fill the Sonny-shaped hole. Richarlison simply didn’t cross my mind. 

But selected he was, and if Ange wanted to fix me with one of those inscrutable stares and croak something about hindsight proving it a tactical masterstroke, I’d probably hold up my hands and grant him that.

Having digested the news of his selection, I did spend a goodish while mulling away as to what Richarlison’s remit would be. Would he try to emulate the Son of yesteryear, by breaking at pace from halfway; or channel his inner Odobert, Tel of Mikey Moore, by throwing in stepovers and trickery until the full-back had twisted blood?

As it turns out, Richarlison gave evidence that in his younger days he may have been a boy scout or something similar, because he went about his business with the motto “Just be yourself” clearly ringing in his ears. Rather than trying to throw in an impression of Sonny or Odobert, he set about the task by asking himself “What would Richarlison do?”, and being better placed than most to answer this, he rolled up his sleeves and immediately started providing real-time answers.

Within about ten seconds of kick-off, he flung in an aerial cross from the left, and a dashed effective one it was too. Rarely-sighted beasts these days, aerial crosses from the left. Porro on t’other side occasionally dabbles, but generally whomever is stationed on the left tends more often to be in the market for lower deliveries that fizz across the area for Brennan Johnson to tap in at the far post. I can barely remember us flinging in a left-footed, aerial cross from the left, and inviting those assembled to make of it what they will.

Richarlison, however, seemed of the opinion that there was no better way to start the day than to do precisely that, and a gratifying degree of bedlam it caused too. The forehead of Dominic Solanke has been criminally underused this season, but his eyes lit up at that cross, and with Johnson lurking at the far post as Johnson does, we were surprisingly well-stocked for takers. The cross may have been scrambled clear, but a vigorous nod of approval from AANP was in the mail.

Richarlison demonstrated a further commendable trait moments later, when the ball was recycled and Porro delivered one of his aforementioned aerial crosses from the right. This being aimed towards the back post, Richarlison was again in business – and again, it struck me that he was adding an element to our game that none of Son, Tel or Odobert can really provide, viz. the back-post header.

Son seems literally scared of the ball if it leaves the ground, and the either two are a bit too happy to excuse themselves from consideration on the grounds of height or build or some such. Richarlison though was pretty game. I think he fancies himself as a bit of a one when it comes the airborne muck. He might not have been able to direct it towards goal himself, but the option he chose was comfortably as effective, looping the thing over to the unmarked Johnson (who to his credit made his finish look very straightforward, when such things are easy to pickle).

This all occurred within the first 40 seconds or so, but for the remainder of the half Richarlison continued to run a pretty good race. He beavered in midfield, linked up play, delivered a good variety of short and slightly longer passes, and kept the opposing full-back on his toes. No huge surprise that he was hooked after 45, given his lack of match-practice and the general puffing and panting he put into that first half, but as remarked at the outset, something of an apology is due from this quarter. Quite the innings.

2. Bissouma

Another who wormed his way back into the AANP good books most unexpectedly was Bissouma. If one wanted to ignore all the positives and mope about the place professing gloom and disaster, one might moan that the fellow ought to play like that every bally game.

There would be a degree of validity to such a point, I suppose. He was brought into the fold precisely on the basis of performances like that in his former life at Brighton – all discipline and energy. But frankly one glosses over the fact that his two or three seasons in lilywhite have been more miss than hit, because last night, when it mattered more than usual, he delivered of his best.

Frankly, the goal aside, Bodo Glimt had nary a sniff, and while the collective takes credit, Bissouma’s repeated Seek-and-Destroy routines played a huge part. It was all the more impressive given the absence of Bergvall, news of which I must confess froze me in my tracks and prompted the skipping of a heartbeat or two that I’ll never get back.

But Bissouma filled the void like a trooper. One appreciates the farcical nature of praising a seasoned international for deputising for a newly-hatched teen who’s only been a few months in the Starting XI, but it was still a vital role to play, and Bissouma played it with a few plombs.

3. Solanke and the Concern Around His Absence

Words of commendation too for Destiny Udogie and James Maddison. In fact, one could take a deep breath and spew out words of commendation for the entire regiment, this being one of those performances in which all in lilywhite burst to the seams with their A-games. Even in this context, however, I thought that both Udogie and Maddison were particularly impressive.

Much of what was good about our play emanated from the size nines of Udogie, they being employed for the dual purposes of snuffling possession from the other lot, and then immediately redirecting operations to Attack Mode.

Maddison too was at the heart of a lot of our better moments. Having spent much of his evening in the role of string-puller-in-chief, it was rather impressive to see him pop up in goalscoring peep-holes too – and not for the first time on the big occasion.

The manner in which he took his goal was Dele-esque, boasting as it did exquisite control in the first place. I was particularly taken by the little hesitation he then inserted – pausing to travel another yard rather than shooting immediately, a manoeuvre that was pretty subtle to the naked eye but had the most satisfactory effect of dragging the goalkeeper from his moorings and depositing him on the floor, when really he wanted to be leaping full length. Marvellous stuff.

However, if absence makes the heart grow fonder, it struck me that Solanke’s might have been the really critical contribution. A slightly controversial take amongst the masses, I’m sure. If you were to goggle a bit, and re-read the sentence with a narrow eye, I can’t say I’d blame you.

In fact, while he was on the pitch, I thought Solanke was mucking in well, as they all were, but not necessarily any better than his nearby chums.

However, once he hobbled off stage left, I started to appreciate a bit more the wholesome content he brought to proceedings. Put simply, we rather lost our attacking edge once he went off. None of the reserve lieutenants seem able to lead the line – and, specifically, the press – quite like he does. Nor do they put in the off-the-ball graft in the less fashionable areas, or provide a beacon towards which to aim at the top end of the pitch; but it was the abandonment of the press after his removal that rather nagged over here.

As such, the medical bods ought to work every available hour to patch him up and glue him back together in time for next week. Listening back after the event, the chatter I heard after we’d conceded seemed rather over-the-top in truth. The telly sorts gave the impression that we’d taken a 5-0 drubbing and were so doomed in the second leg that it was barely worth our turning up; but while I fancy our European alter egos to do what’s necessary next week, the task will be infinitely harder minus Solanke.