Month: October 2025

Categories
Spurs match reports

Everton 0-3 Spurs: Four Tottenham Talking Points

1. The Formation

If you had caught a glimpse of AANP during the opening exchanges of this one,  you’d have spotted him viewing proceedings with eyes narrowed and brow furrowed; and if on the basis of the narrowed e. and furrowed b. you’d inferred that he was having a dickens of a time trying to work out the formation adopted by our heroes, you’d have been bang on the money. Which, ironically enough, is precisely what AANP was not bang on when trying to decipher that set-up.

The first thought that floated between the AANP ears was that Our Glorious Leader had gone with two right wingers at the same time. Which, if true, would have been Thomas Frank’s prerogative, of course. He’s the shot-caller, after all. If he wanted to go down the Not-Typically-Done route then he had every right. As long as it works, went the AANP take, then do your damnedest.

But while I was lustily supporting this little tactical quirk, it dawned on me that whatever our formation was, it wasn’t one featuring two right wingers. The next notion to spring to mind was wing-backs, but this did not seem quite right either. Spence, perhaps, was adopting wing-back-like poses on the left; but out on the right, Johnson didn’t really appear to be signing up to the “back” part of the wing-back arrangement.

And what, I asked myself, was Kudus? Or perhaps more pertinently, where was Kudus? Because for what I assumed was a Number 10 sort of role, he seemed to be drifting out to the right an awful lot.

Anyway, the main takeaway of all this was that it’s a good job I’m not a manager, as I’d have spent most of that first half simply goggling at the lilywhite formation rather than doing anything useful.

With the dust settled, I guess it was a 3-2-4-1 sort of get-up, in possession at least – with Spence and Johnson up the flanks, and Simons and Kudus inside them. Frankly, the label matters little at this point, for the gist is that it ought to have provided a few more passing options whenever we advanced up the pitch, as well as the standard defensive stability of the Palhinha-Bentancur double-act.

I suggest that it “ought” to have provided more passing options going forward, because in practice the quick passing routines didn’t really register. Not that it mattered too much today, given that our set-piece sequences were immaculately choreographed, and all defensive parts in fine working order at the other end. But I nevertheless noted, with a sigh that was two parts patience and one part disappointment, that despite a Spence-Simons-Kudus-Johnson line supporting Kolo Muani, we remained a little light on the old whizz-bang when trundling forward.

2. Set-Pieces

One can’t have it all, however, and to criticise in the slightest a 3-0 away win at a mighty imposing estate would be pretty off. With two goals nodded in from set-pieces this had the Frank fingerprints all over it.

I view set-pieces much as I view technology, in that it ought to supplement rather than replace the honest sweat and endeavour of the good souls involved, and our heroes used it marvellously today, supplementing things like billy-o.

There was the delivery, for a start. The Porro corner for our second contained a level of spite that ought really not to be allowed before the watershed. It absolutely fizzed into the area, to such an extent that had it not been converted one would really have had no option but to launch an independent enquiry to understand why not. Mercifully, Van de Ven had the good sense to give the ‘keeper a knowing shove and then angle his head appropriately, but while it was the Dutchman who drank in the plaudits, the AANP glass was raised to Porro.

While the delivery for the opening goal (courtesy of Kudus) did not necessarily carry quite the same level of menace, it being swung a tad more gently towards the far post for Bentancur, I did nevertheless applaud its accuracy. A yard higher or lower and the whole operation would have crumbled in its infancy. Kudus, to his credit, dropped the thing at the designated coordinates, and at the designated time and – critically – at the designated height.

Interestingly, although that aforementioned D.H. was, specifically, head height, Bentancur took it upon himself to improvise a little. And there was no harm in that at all. If a little innovation was good enough for Thomas Frank when doodling his formations, then it was good enough for Bentancur when arriving at the back-post. One might well have spotted Bentancur mouthing the words, as he shimmered towards the back post, “Just because it’s called ‘Head height’ does not preclude me from using my shoulder, what?”

The moment of improv. worked swimmingly, and VDV’s head-angling got its first taste of action. And let’s face it, if the t’s are crossed and i’s dotted on set-pieces as meticulously as that, then there is a little less pressure on the front five to string together too many slick passes.  

3. Danso

As mentioned, VDV knew a good thing from approximately two yards out when he saw one, and full credit to him, but with Romero again missing – that innocuous pre-match ‘knock’ of last week proving a dashed sight more sinister than we had initially been led to believe – I once again adjusted the monocle and subjected young Master Danso to feverish scrutiny throughout.

And once again – for the third time in a week, in fact – the fellow emerged with a laudable report card. One doesn’t have to search too hard to find a fish of lilywhite persuasion who will fold their arms, tilt their head and remark sadly that the absence of Romero deprives us of some incisive passing from the back, the undertone being that we might as well all pack up and go home in the absence of such line-breaking gold. AANP, however, is a more traditional sort of egg, brought up to believe that a defender’s purpose in life is to defend, and it was with this anthem on my lips that I meted out the approving nod and slapped the approving thigh each time Danso unveiled another of the defensive basics.

I think I heard within the post-match burble that Danso rattled off more clearances than anyone else in the vicinity, and while I couldn’t put a hand on the Bible and swear to it, I certainly would not be surprised. He seemed fully committed throughout to the basic notion that Ball Near Goal was Bad, and Ball Away From Goal was Good – and frankly it was an attitude that I could get on board with.

He might not necessarily be the sort of fish we want manning the helm when Europe’s elite come to town, but for an hour and a half in the pouring rain in Everton, he put the fevered mind at ease.

4. Vicario

A congratulatory word also for our resident back-stop, who had seemingly been convinced that the final whistle at Monaco still had not sounded, and consequently just carried on where he left off there.

Two second half saves in particular were of the absolute highest order. Admittedly I say that from a position of general ignorance when it comes to this goalkeeping lark, but to stick out a paw from point-blank range when the opposition chappie is pulling off an overhead kick seemed to take some doing; while the save from a shot that took two deflections really did have me purring in admiration. Reflexes, one was inclined to murmur, maketh the top-notch save.  

My views on Vicario at corners remain a little more mixed – for every successful punch to the edge of the area there seemed also to be one rather sorry attempt to propel himself forward that was aborted midway through when he ran into a jungle of bodies. However, this was a day to salute, again, the fellow’s fine shot-stopping, and those two second half saves were essentially worth goals.

A second clean sheet, on the road, within three days, is not to be sniffed at, and certainly provides a useful base upon which to build a hale and hearty future; concerns about creativity can wait for another day.

Categories
Spurs match reports

Monaco 0-0 Spurs: Three Tottenham Talking Points

1. Not The Finest Hour of Our Glorious Leader

I don’t know if you’re one of those sorts who goes in for karmic retribution – which I believe is the concept that if rotten luck befalls you then it’s just a spot of cosmic justice being meted out that you jolly well deserved in the first place – but with my eyes glazing over and my will to leave departing my soul last night, I did wonder what the hell I’d done, in this life or a previous one, to deserve the dreadful dirge on offer.

This apparently was our first nil-nil in well over 100 games, since that wretched night when our heroes collectively gave up against AC Milan, so it took some doing. In fact, I thought that nil-nil flattered us. Just plain ‘nil’ on its own would have summed up this garbage just as well.

Our Glorious Leader, as ever, was his usual, relentlessly sunny self when it came to the post-match waffle. He’s a likeable sort of egg – not that that is either here nor there – and after just 12 games one still ought to just wave him along and let him get on with things. Moreover, we remain without a couple of key personnel, and it’s on nights like this that the absence stings particularly, of Solanke up top to hold up the ball and drag his chums up the pitch, or Romero at the back to get the ball rolling from the back, as it were.

All that said, however, some of his selections do verge on the squiffy. I suppose he would justify Gray at left-back on the grounds that he’s a versatile young thing, and Spence needed a rest; but this insistence on both Bentancur and Palhinha sitting deep as a non-committal twosome is a tad wearying.

Either way, we failed to land a glove upon a Monaco defence that had yet to keep a clean sheet this season, and that relies upon Eric Dier of all people to hold the back-line together. Another of the likeable contingent, no doubt, but when Dier’s the big defensive absence one ought to lick the lips and rub the hands at the prospect.

Anyway, we somehow snuck out with a clean sheet and a point, and this slightly misleading statistical entry was in keeping with events so far this season, in which we haven’t been particularly good at any point, but continue to rack up reasonable-looking takeaways.

2. Vicario

No doubt about the standout performer last night, Vicario earning the full monthly envelope in the space of one 90-minute display. A timely innings it was too, as the chap has started to attract some pointed looks and uncensored critique in recent weeks.

His early weeks of this season have seen him pat a few too many efforts back into the path of trouble; and then on Sunday he provided a bit more ammunition for the naysayers, leading with his wrong hand for the Rogers goal, and then not bothering to go with either hand for the Buendia goal but instead giving it his best Lloris impression and watching the ball fly past him.

Anyway, last night he decided that he would deign to move in the direction of incoming shots after all, and evidently bitten by the bug couldn’t stop doing it once he’d started. Nine saves in total, apparently, and while I suppose one or two might have been of the gentler variety, I greeted numerous of them with that mixture of relief and pleasant surprise that indicates that these were not all run-of-the-mill numbers, but involved a fair amount of nifty reflex and full-body extension.

These days goalkeepers seem to be judged by just about every metric except their ability to save incoming shots, so there was a certain satisfaction in brushing away thoughts about his distribution and conduct at corners and so forth, and simply applauding the fellow for diving hither and thither to keep the ball out.

3. Slip Pickings Elsewhere On The Pitch

At this point in proceedings I generally like to pour myself an additional splash of the old nectar, think back to some of the other highlights and prattle on a bit about whichever members of the troop caught the eye. A certain impediment hoves into view this time, however, namely that the entire collective was in ghastly form last night.

I suppose in the first half one could engineer a spot of positivity. Odobert, for example, looked as threatening as he has done for us since arriving, at least until it came to adding a finishing touch to the build-up.

That left side of attack remains an elusive sort of spot, with gumboils like Johnson and Simons going through the motions but giving the distinct impression that whatever the question, they are not the answer. Odobert still ought to have the words “Work In Progress” stamped in sizeable red font across his frame, but in the first half at least he looked promising.

Also in the first half, Archie Gray initially seemed to be setting himself up for an eye-catching night’s work. He was pretty diligent when it came to popping up conveniently in the background to politely clear his throat and bail out a chum in trouble; and he put his heart and soul into a number of supporting dashes up the left flank, each of which were rather cruelly ignored by Odobert but which nevertheless served some purpose in creating space.

However, as and when he got down to the actual meaty business of applying boot to ball, his evening slightly fell apart, as he started dishing out errant passes. He was no worse than anyone else clad in dreamy black, but having looked the part in those early moments I cast him some hurt looks thereafter, like those of a jilted ex, upon seeing him fail to live up to the billing.

Early days, I suppose, both in the Champions League and more broadly, but while one imagines that the produce will improve in quality in the long-term, as all concerned learn each others’ names and begin to feel more comfortable in the Tottenham garb, in the short-term I do tense up somewhat and wonder where the hell any improvement will come from by the weekend.

Categories
Spurs match reports

Spurs 1-2 Villa: Four Tottenham Talking Points

1. Curious Under-Use of Proven Tactics

And it had all started so well. Here I don’t just refer to the early goal, although that sort of breezy input does always raise the spirits and un-jangle the nerves and so forth. I refer additionally to the manner in which we came about the goal, which is to say the corner was won in the first place by some well-executed beavering by Mathys Tel, a sure sign that the fellow had bought into the notion of the high press.

In fact, while Bentancur was mobbed by his chums for then scoring from that corner, if AANP had been on the pitch and involved in the mobbing, he would have made a point of accompanying his congratulations with the message that the back-slaps and embraces were more for Bentancur leading that high press in the first place, as for the scoring the goal. Joyous though the moment may have been, such communication nevertheless matters.

Barely a minute later we had the ball in the net again, albeit young Kudus had shown that tendency for instant gratification that is so common amongst the young folk, and set off on his gallop a smidge too early, prompting the offside flag. A shame, because he executed the rest of the operation with a deadly boot.

Anyway, by this point, AANP’s spirits were considerably buoyed. Here, I thought, was a blueprint. The road to success, continued the thought, was paved with the dual approaches of pressing the other lot high up the pitch, and playing in behind their high line.

This having resulted in netting twice within the opening six minutes, I just rather assumed that, upon realising we were onto a good thing, we might double down on the tactic and try it repeatedly until the ref took mercy. Or, failing that, at least try it once or twice more.

Alas, those tasked with carrying out on-pitch operations were evidently of different mind. The train of thought of those in lilywhite seemed to be more along the lines that any approach that brought home a rich harvest ought then promptly to be locked away for another time. Replication was to be avoided. Further success ought to be achieved by alternative means.

This I wouldn’t have objected to particularly if the alternative means had seen our heroes tear into Villa and barely allow them to pop their heads up for breath. To my considerable chagrin, however, our lot spent the next 40-odd minutes of the first half, and all but about 5 of the second, generally meandering rather aimlessly.

Worse, the one tactic that seemed firmly to have been adopted was that brain-meltingly dreadful gambit of playing out from the back, a strategy that I am convinced is statistically proven to create more attacking bounty for the opposition than the team in possession. This, alas, seemed to be the approach de jour, and no amount of bashing my head against a brick wall could prevent it.

In fairness, our lot did also repeatedly shove the ball at Porro and Kudus, and then stand back and watch with expectant faces, under the assumption that these two have magicked up chances before so they would presumably not require any further help to do so again. If on the pitch and conscious, seemed to be the thinking, then Porro and Kudus could be left to do it all themselves.

There were also set-pieces – this afternoon including Danso long throws – and AANP is certainly not too proud to bellow some hearty approval when these cause havoc; but I do occasionally want to submit to The Brains Trust that such inputs ought to supplement rather than replace bright ideas that originate from open play.

Alas, after those halcyon opening six or so minutes, and that brief flurry at the start of the second half, the well rather ran dry, and the gloomy realisation dawned that additional time could have gone on for another half an hour and we’d not have looked like scoring.

2. Tel

I’ll keep this one brief, but the early signs are that young Master Tel is a prime candidate for that roster of chappies whose actual purpose in life is a bit of a mystery. On my particularly cantankerous days I sometimes include Bentancur in that gang, so Tel is in good company, but we’ve cast the beady eye upon him for several months now, and while one doesn’t want to knock the poor fellow, I do regularly draw a bit of a blank. (As does he, one might add.)

He has not previously shown enough in the way of dribbling, or indeed crossing, to suggest that he’s a bona fide winger, or even an auxiliary winger, come to think of it. And he certainly lacks the physical presence to lead the line as a centre-forward. If you want your central striker to be tossed around by the centre-backs like a ragdoll and look plaintively at the ref while sitting on the turf, then Tel is very much your man. When it comes to holding up the ball, however, and battering the other lot into submission, Tel has the look of a young welp who skipped lessons on that particular day.

More concerningly, there was evidence on show this afternoon that he has no natural instinct for goal. When a ball is pinged across the face of goal, one expects to glance across and see a Number 9 on the balls of his feet, straining at the leash to tap in from a couple of yards and race off to general acclaim. Tel seems not to be possessed of this urge. It does not augur well for any would-be central striker, particularly one lacking in the heft department.

Frankly, if Tel could be described as anything it might be ‘Sprinter’, and if that is indeed the case then never mind the formation, I’m not sure that we are playing the appropriate sport.

(One might object that young Simons was even more anonymous than Tel today, and it would be a reasonable point; but in the former’s defence I have at least seen the chap sprinkle the odd flash of stardust about the place on the European stage in recent years, so am inclined to give him time to bed in as a creative sort of bird.)

3. Danso

Immediately pre-match there was a bit of doom and gloom sloshing about the place when news filtered through that our captain had overdone things in the warm-up, and a Danso-for-Romero exchange was being hastily arranged.

And while the logbook might not necessarily make spectacular reading, recording two goals conceded and an undisputable yellow card, the evidence of the eyes was a bit kinder on young Herr Danso.

I thought he did a decent job, and if you identify traces of pleasant surprise in my voice then you’re spot on. I’ve yet to be convinced by the chap to date, and while it will take more than one match to move that particular dial, I did at least give him the approving nod today.

Boxes were generally ticked. There was one first half moment when he was left to fix a burgeoning problem on his own, as a Villa sort raced straight through the middle, and Danso went racing alongside him, causing a few of us in the cheap seats a sharp intake of breath. To his enormous credit however, Danso matched the Villa rascal stride for stride, and then had the good sense to lean into him and apply some good, old-fashioned upper-body strength, muscling him out of the way without risking a foul, in a nudge-nudge-wink-wink sort of fashion.

This was a bit of a highlight, but in general and at various points in the piece I did spot him doing the defensive basics well – a covering challenge here, a timely block there – and murmur a positive word or two in his direction. A full-blown panic will set in whenever VDV next rolls an ankle and hobbles off, but as Romero-filling goes, Danso seemed to manage well enough.

4. Joao Palhinha

And to finish on a silver lining, that lad Palhinha continues to look exactly the sort of uproot-incoming-opponents midfielder for which we’ve been crying out for years. To pick one apt example, I’m fairly sure that last year against these same opponents – possibly in the FA Cup, on the occasion of Tel’s debut – Villa were allowed to dance their way straight through the centre of the pitch, with nairy a lilywhite leg waggling to prevent their access.

Well today, whenever they tried a similar ruse, they were generally upended and left in crumpled heaps about the N17 turf. Palhinha loves a crunching tackle (he does a decent line in interceptions too), and crucially he tends to execute them in a manner that those in authority are able to wave along without intervention. Whereas, say, Romero might slam into a player in entertaining enough fashion, but in a manner guaranteed to prompt a weary ref to wave yellow at him, Palhinha seems to have nailed a technique that earns little more than a dismissive shrug and a cheery “As you were” from the officials.

It might not have come to much today, and in fact Palhinha was one of those who might be chided for failing to prevent the Rogers goal, but he does give the impression of having addressed one pretty glaring historical flaw. Now we just need to fix the rest of the group, what?

Categories
Spurs match reports

Leeds 1-2 Spurs: Three Tottenham Talking Points

1. Vicario

AANP missed the real-time screening of this one, having popped out of town for a wedding, so found himself in that curious position that is occasionally thrust upon one, of being fully aware of the scoreline and general talking points by the time a chance arose to settle in and watch from start to finish.

As such, I was already aware of murmurs amongst various Tottenham folk that our resident backdoor-minder had not covered himself in glory. While it would be a stretch to say that my fingers therefore drummed away at the guillotine in anticipation of a few Vicario howlers, I did nevertheless brace myself.

It seemed that aside from the mundane to-ing and fro-ing, there were four eye-catching moments to his afternoon’s contributions. The first was that item early on when one Joe Rodon – formerly of the N17 parish – planted a back-post header against the post. It might get lost in ensuing debate that Destiny Udogie did just about enough whispering in the Rodon ear at that particular juncture to force the man a little off-balance, so congratulatory tap of the hat-rim is probably due, before we start dissecting the life and times of Vicario in the preliminary seconds.

Put bluntly, Vicario seemed completely to lose his bearings. As the cross was swung over, from the right, the curious young eel began wandering from his line without any clear purpose, looking rather like an abandoned puppy that had scented food in the mid-distance and was uncontrollably drawn towards it.

The ball sailed over him at the sort of height that Vicario-on-a-step-ladder might have had a job handling, but the problem was that once gripped by the urge to wade off into the masses, it was rather tricky for him to undo this. Indeed, even when struck by the error of his ways, he could do little more than shoot a vaguely horrified glance in the loose direction of where the ball was dropping, and perhaps give tongue to a muttered Ave Maria.

As mentioned, Rodon at the back post could do no more than steer the ball against the frame, the sort of outcome that presumably will spare Vicario too dedicated a media spotlight, but those of lilywhite persuasion have seemingly chalked it up as the latest blot in what is becoming an increasingly crowded copybook.

Vicario was less fortunate with the next eye-catching moment, the one that saw him repel a shot from inside the area, but somewhat gum up the following chapter, by spilling the thing into the path of a conveniently-placed Leeds sort. Here, I should point out that just as AANP giveth with one hand, AANP taketh with the other, for while Udogie was earlier to be praised for his alacrity in defence, for the Leeds goal he did switch off long enough to allow Okafor to poach away to his heart’s content.

It was, however, an untidy piece of work from Vicario that presented the opportunity so neatly. Having reacted to the initial, deflected shot pretty well, Vicario then – as is becoming something of a trademark – did not really pay sufficient care and attention to the geography of the occasion. This tendency of his to shovel the ball straight into the path of chappies lurking for scraps has proved his downfall before, and needs a spot of care and attention. The whole routine of saving close-range shots is negated if at the end of it all he is simply going to present a two-yard tap-in to the next fellow in the queue.

Hammering home the point, he made an excellent couple of stops deep in stoppage time – but the second of these resulted in the ball popping upwards and most fortunately into the path of that man Udogie once again, who was able to nod it behind for a corner, when a yard either side there would have been yet another tap-in for the waiting scavengers.

It does make one scratch the head somewhat in truth, as to precisely where Vicario should be depositing these incoming efforts. Conventional wisdom has it that they should not be padded straight out in front of goal, and by and large he avoids this. However, this is certainly not the first match in which, in attempting to shovel matters out wide he has succeeded in not only laying them into the path of an opponent, but seemingly shaving the power off them too, making them that much easier to reach. I wonder if he might divert them behind his goal instead, or push them wide but with a bit more force, so as to send them out of the area.

Either way, there seems something slightly rummy about the current approach, of teeing them up at a gentle dribble for a short-range tap-in from an angle.

2. Kudus

On a brighter note, one of the grumbles of recent weeks had been that the creative well seemed to have run pretty dry, and while it would be a stretch to say that shots now fly in from every angle, two of the attacking mob in particular seemed to bound about the place with heartening vim and zest.  

Kudus naturally grabs headlines on account of having struck oil, but even aside from his goal his general attacking play had much about it of the useful sort of pest. Not only does the fellow come across as the sort of chappie against whom one would rather not defend, but he does so across multiple formats.

By which I mean there is Kudus the Wide-Man – hugging the touchline and dipping multiple shoulders this way and that, with a view to whipping in a teasing cross, if not seeking out a chum better placed to do the same; then there is Kudus the Inside-Right, whose goal in life is not so much the whipping in of wicked crosses as the twinkle-toed foray infield, to cause mischief around the outside of the area – which may take the form of a shot, as demonstrated yesterday, or may take the form of link-up play with nearby comrades.

As has been remarked upon before, the earnest bean’s combination of strength, close control and low centre of gravity appears to make him a fiend of an opponent, and while he has clearly had the occasional quieter afternoon, when on song – as yesterday – he is quite the asset.

3. Simons

Further east, there were more glimpses of young Simons finding his range. Officially, I suppose, assigned the Number 10 role, Simons seemed pretty insistent about his coordinates, coming across as the sort of egg who, if not allowed to take up a specifically inside-left sort of spot, would simply fold his arms and refuse to engage. Luckily, those about him in black were all for it, and the young bean saw plenty of action.

Intriguingly, his was an afternoon less of mazy dribbles, and more of furtive darts that were followed by the picking of some eye-of-needle passes, of the ilk intended to really carve open an opposition defence.

I was all for it. These weren’t your standard roll-the-thing-square-five-yards variety; rather, Simons was in the market for a diagonal that scythed open Leeds and took out three of their defenders in one swoop, while Udogie (him again) burst in from the depths. At one point Simons scooped a pass up, above and behind the Leeds back-line, for Porro to gallop onto, which really did whiff of a man starting to take a liking to life in his new surroundings.

An underlying concern to all of this was that it meant our lot were relying a little too heavily upon moments of individual ingenuity, rather than any obviously well-constructed patterns and build-up play involving the entire entourage – but one takes the wins, what? It was only a couple of days ago that I was grumbling about the lack of anything approaching creative content at all, so to boast not one but two of the forward line prancing about the place with attacking juices brimming was a pretty welcome sign.

Categories
Spurs match reports

Bodo-Glimt 2-2 Spurs: Three Tottenham Talking Points

1. General Guff About “Character”

Now you can call me a massively ungrateful wretch who should be thankful for what he’s got – and you wouldn’t be the first – but when I hear the Big Cheese, and various other luminaries clad in official Team Hotspur training gear, banging on about the “character” shown last night, I do rather get the urge to pickle my own head.

The nub of my grievance is that we should not have to keep needing late, late rallies in order to salvage a point against teams that are decent but hardly world-beating. And a delicate nuance attached to that same nub is that banging on about character seems a little too conveniently to sweep aside the glaring issue de jour, with an innocent whistle and the hope that everyone forgets it ever happened at all.

So while I grudgingly offer a brief round of applause – one of those perfunctory numbers, utterly devoid of sincerity – it’s only a precursor to a spot of prime finger-jabbing.

The real issue I took back to AANP Towers last night is that we should not be two bally goals down to Bodo-Glimt in the first place, in any circumstance. Nor for that matter should we be two down to Brighton or trailing to Wolves at home in added time. Never mind that we manage to slink our way out of these scrapes – why the devil are we in them in the first place?

However, if there is one thing said about AANP it is that he is an absolute model of fairness, calm and sunny optimism, and as such I can rein in the vitriol for 20 seconds or so, and give our lot their dues. And in this spirit of acceptance I acknowledge that a Champions League draw is better than a Champions League defeat, and that many a previous vintage has simply accepted their fate with a resigned shrug when faced with a 2-0 deficit away from home. So well done Spurs, for drawing with a team worth £50m.

2. A Spot of Porro-Bashing

The niceties concluded, we can get down to brass tacks, and interrogate why our heroes were second best to that mob, almost throughout.

Consistently failing, to a man, to string 10-yard passes together was a pretty core element here; and out of possession, while there seemed a pretty firm understanding that packing seven or eight across our own area would help prevent unwanted intrusion, the tendency of our midfield simply to melt away rather played into Bodo’s hands.

This is one of those occasions on which I could jab a finger at just about any of the eleven and launch into a bit of a rant, so one ought not to read too much into the choice of Senor Porro for the initial blast of both barrels. Nevertheless, the thought does spring to mind, time and again, that for a defender he’s really not so hot in the defending department.

The chap’s tendency to dangle the most ineffective leg whenever an opponent attempts a cross has been well documented on these very pages previously. Last night he took that same principle of waggling a limb without the slightest conviction, and applied it when the opposition nib was lining up a shot.

I struggle to remember a time when Porro actually did block a shot. I certainly remember countless moments when he has dropped to one knee to create that cricket-style long-barrier approach. He does that every game, pretty regularly, and it looks terrifically neat and tidy, quite the feat of construction and aesthetics. Unfortunately, it’s useless.

The Bodo fellow wandered into the area for yesterday’s second goal, so Porro instinctively dropped to his knee, in response to which the Bodo f. promptly danced around him – as one would when presented with an inanimate and entirely superfluous object in one’s path – and lashed the thing in.

And this, lest we forget, followed the opener, in which Porro when faced with one attacker in possession plus his overlapping chum, wandered the way of the overlapping sort, neglecting to communicate any of this to the assisting Johnson, with the result that the attacker in possession did not even have to dip into his bag of tricks in order to find room for the shot. He simply wandered straight into the space vacated by Porro and BJ and let fly. The AANP mood darkened.

Porro, of course, played a critical role in our comeback, his absolutely gorgeous delivery presenting on a plate the goal for Micky van de Ven. A particular word of approbation to PP for striking the ball so sweetly when it had been rolled backwards to him, and as such would have been a strong contender for scooping upwards and off into the gods.

So no real complaints about the fellow’s attacking onions. But to repeat the intro line – he appears to be a defender who cannot defend, and as such is at least one of the causes of our lot needing to resort to “character” to do that skin-of-the-teeth routine at the death.

3. Danso. And Spence. And All The Rest If I Had Time.

AANP reserved a special eye or two for young Herr Danso for this one, this being his first start of the season and whatnot. While there has generally been a whiff of optimism accompanying the reports of my Spurs-supporting chums when opining on the fellow since his arrival last season, I’ve been a bit less convinced to date, still waiting for his big signature tune, if you know what I mean.

And given the platform yesterday to stride out and blow us all away, I thought he spent his 90 minutes resembling a balloon from which air was slowly escaping throughout. His actual defending was fairly unremarkable – not quite Porro-esque levels of negligence, but neither did he come across as some heaving colossus towards whom opponents took one look and instinctively back off a yard or two to ask their commander if there were any alternative routes to goal. On spying Danso, one got the impression that the Bodo lot turned to one another and murmured “Sure, I’ll have a crack at this one.”

But what really irked the AANP soul was the sight of Danso on the front-foot, seemingly convinced that his inner Beckenbauer was ripe and ready for channelling. We all flung up our hands and yelled a choice curse or two at Bentancur for his runaway-plough routine that conceded the penalty, but Bodo had possession in the first place because Danso had gone galloping up the pitch, only to dwell too long and be robbed inside halfway.

This was an act he repeated a few times, either getting caught in possession or launching a flurry of the most aimless forward passes conceivable, the sort that rather apologetically slow down near the opposition corner flag, leaving even the opposition a little irritated at having to fetch the thing from no man’s land.

It was a tough gig for Danso, I suppose, being dropped into the frontline without any meaningful football behind him and on a plastic pitch and whatnot – but the above errors were nevertheless avoidable fare. We may have two pretty high calibre centre-backs in situ, but the first reserve does seem to represent a dip in quality. Covetous glances continue to be glanced in the direction of Selhurst Park.

And as mentioned, there are plenty others who deserve a fair amount of opprobrium for last night’s bilge. Spence might be an excellent one-on-one defender, and doubtless boasts a few tricks when on the forward march, but yesterday he was regularly to be spotted miles out of position while all around him retreated at breakneck speed back into position (or rather he was not spotted – if you get my drift).

On top of which, that lackadaisical air of his, which seems to lurk never too far from the surface, was on show again for the Bodo second, for which he rather carelessly miscontrolled on the corner of his own area to gift possession their way.

It was that sort of night, errant behaviour on show from those in natty black shirts everywhere one looked. Late comebacks are all well and good, but midfield creativity and general sharpness have been sorely lacking from our mob in recent games, and it’s one Our Glorious Leader will need to un-muddle pronto.