Category: Spurs match reports

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Spurs match reports

(Back Catalogue) Spurs 1-4 Arsenal: Never Mind The Kids, What About The Grown-Ups?

Due to the horrors of the real world (new flat! new flat!), a near-lethal bout of man-flu and, most pertinently, a mightily ropey wi-fi connection, the AANP ramblings of recent weeks have been trapped, like the three evil types inside the glass prison in Superman 2, on a usb stick, unable to make it to the interweb. However, to ease the pain of the international break, this back-catalogue of previews and match reports will now finally see the light of day – which means that you lucky things will be able to relive all the hundred-miles-an-hour excitement of the past three weeks or so! Huzzah!

 

22/9/2010: I guess this is what it would be like if the A-Team were locked in a shed, constructed their usual tank and burst out of said shed – only for it to break down immediately and for all four of them to be dragged out and shot to death. Having rather hung on for 90 minutes, extra-time promised some sort of rousing finale, so there was an unfortunately anti-climactic feel to the manner in which the game so swiftly became a lost cause, with the best part of half an hour left to play. (That said, pats on backs to all those who hung around to sing their hearts out in the dying minutes – oh that those on the pitch might have shown the same passion…)

 

The Kids

 

Rare starts for Livermore and Naughton, and a debut at centre-back for Caulker. Each of them did just about what you would expect: some slick technique, plenty of youthful enthusiasm, some false bravado and a few moments of panic when hairy situations arose. None had me salivating in frenzied anticipation, nor cursing the day they signed up as lilywhites. Good luck to all three.

 

The grown-ups however ought to have known better. In the first half in particular there was a lack of leadership, with Sergeant Wilson – now resembling a poor man’s Zokora, of all things – Giovani, Bentley and Pav a little too willing to let the buck be passed, rather than leading by example.

 

Aside from the personnel, the first half formation was a mite curious. ‘Arry seemed to go for three deep midfielders, in Sandro, Livermore and Palacios, and they spent much of the first 45 getting in each other’s way; while Bentley was stationed out on the left, and Pav moped around waiting in vain for some service or some company up top. All generalisations you understand, but in general the tactical approach of the first half seemed rather a muddle, and we also spent rather a long time learning that precious little damage can be done if we don’t have the ball.

 

However, the second half brought more purpose, most obviously through the introduction of Keane, who bounded around with an enthusiasm that put several of his team-mates to shame, and the reversion to a more orthodox 4-4-2. Given l’Arse’s curious penchant for trying to win through looking pretty rather than outscoring the opposition, we actually created the better chances over 90 minutes. For all their possession, including that three or four-minute spell in the first half where we simply could not get a touch of the ball, we actually defended in sufficiently organised fashion to prevent them making many clear chances.

 

Kranjcar?

 

Thrown on when we went 3-1 down and the game was officially being stamped with the big red sign that reads “Cause: Lost”, I did rather scratch my head and wonder why ‘Arry opted against his inclusion from the start, particularly having made all sorts of noises beforehand about giving him some game time. True, he hardly covered himself in glory during his 20 minute shift, but the chap is still a mighty useful player, and I would purse my lips in frustration if he were shunted out of the door come January.

 

Silver Lining

 

A damn shame to get knocked out like that, and the baiting from my Arse-supporting chums was an unwelcome throwback to the days of yore, but it is fairly undoubtedly a measure of how far we have come that the Carling Cup, the trophy that was the pinnacle of our season just two and a half years ago, is now this far down our list of priorities. Having taken a hammering at home to that ‘orrible lot from up the road, the sentiment on the train back up to Enfield was one of only mild annoyance, for this was very much a match played with the bigger picture in mind.

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Spurs match reports

Spurs 3-1 Wolves: Who Gets Your Full-Backing?

As if a flight across time-zones was not discombobulating enough, I found myself stepping off the plane to be greeted by the news that Alan Hutton had scored for us, while Jermaine Jenas had put in a decent performance and Robbie Keane had started -all of which left me wondering whether I had flown into a new space-time continuum rather than simply across continents.

 

No Match Report Around These Parts

 

No comment can be passed from AANP Towers on the specifics of our win over Wolves, as I was airborne at the time, but certain areas of the team selection certainly caught the eye in the aftermath. In particular, a penny for the thoughts of Messrs Assou-Ekotto and Corluka, once upon a time nailed-in as one quarter each, respectively, of the back four, but now looking like the weaker of the links in the Tottenham team.

 

Left-Back: Assou-Ekotto or Bale?

 

On reflection I’m not sure I would ever like an insight into the mind of BAE, given that few men in Christendom have ever been possessed of a gaze more suited to that of a cold-blooded murderer. That aside the chap is currently enduring something of a fall from grace. Season 2008-09 was rather the making of him, as he turned into a mighty dependable left-back in the wake of the Wendy Ramos debacle. Last season however saw Gareth Bale emerge from his cocoon like some infantile god hatching from a celestial egg – meaning that BAE’s selection now largely depends on how far up the pitch Bale will play.

 

BAE’s concerns have in this respect been exacerbated by the arrival of van der Vaart, as the inclusion of VDV, Modders and Bale is arguably best facilitated by switching Bale to left-back, even despite his defensive frailties.

 

BAE is nowhere near the equal of Bale when marauding forward, and it hardly helps that his defensive showings have been far from watertight this season. His erratic form so far this campaign seemed neatly encapsulated by the two legs against Young Boys: shoddy in the first leg he was hauled off after half an hour; but he followed up with an impeccable defensive display in the second.

 

In the final analysis therefore, in common with those undertaking the oldest profession in the world, much of BAE’s fortune depends on others, for if Modders and VDV are to be included in a 4-4-2 then Bale would get the nod at left-back.

 

But Isn’t Bale Rather Wasted At Left-Back?

 

This does of course beg the question of whether left-back bring the best out of Bale. Arriving from deep he has the advantage of a midfielder cutting infield ahead of him, creating room for him to overlap as, effectively, a fifth midfielder. Nevertheless there is always the nagging sense that Bale’s all-round attacking wondrousness is curtailed when he slots into his abode within the back-four.

 

Right-Back: Corluka?

 

On t’other flank, in his capacity as the complete antithesis of Usain Bolt, Corluka has generally expiated for the total absence of pace with his positioning and fairly sound reading of the game. Nevertheless, show me a Spurs supporter who does not panic whenever a winger knocks the ball beyond Corluka and scuttles, and I’ll show you someone who is blind or quite possibly an Arsenal fan.

 

Kaboul?

 

The stakes have been raised at right-back by the curious renaissance of Younes Kaboul. Having initially taken to the role like an elephant to ballet, he swiftly learned the ins and outs and while he is still not exactly a classic full-back, he does now combine purposeful defence with speed going forward.

 

Hutton?

 

And then there is Alan Hutton, who was evidently hauled out of his two-year stint in a cryogenic freezing chamber on Saturday, and responded by reminding us that deep down he would probably like to be a right-winger. He rode his luck in scoring – first in his cunning use of a one-two with himself, and secondly in the handy deflection off his knee – but I cannot remember Corluka making too many determined sprints into the heart of the opposition area. As with Bale on the left however, Hutton’s attacking instincts have generally gambolled hand-in-hand with concerns about his defensive ability.

 

As at left-back, much also depends on the selection in midfield, because the Corluka-Lennon combo has befuddled many an opposing left-back, with that weighted diagonal ball inside the full-back a particular favourite here at AANP Towers. Neverthless, in terms of hand-picking the best from both the attacking and defensive worlds, AANP currently plumps for Monsieur Kaboul.

 

All academic at the moment, with both Kaboul and Corluka currently injured, but something for ‘Arry to consider each morning as he chews on his Weetabix. Your own musings on these topics are very much welcomed below.

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Spurs match reports

Spurs – Wolves Preview: Five Things I Would Like To See From Tottenham Today…

Admittedly a wish-lit of things I would like to see this afternoon ought to include an end to world poverty and the like, but with the disclaimer that I focus the following thoughts on goings-on at N17, pray go ahead and dig in to things I would like to see around 3pm British Summer Time…

1. The Match. The AANP Towers merry little jape with its American cousins comes to a conclusion around kick-off time, so while our heroes are busy complicating the straightforward task of despatching Wolves at home, I will be several thousand feet in the air. I look forward with glee to news of glorious victory on my return to terra firma.

2. Fluid One-Touch Football. À la most of the first half against Werder Bremen, and indeed most of last season. Play like that and Wolves won’t be able to live with us.

3. A Clean Sheet. Can’t quite remember what they are like, but I have it on good information that they are awesome.

4. Aaron Lennon Circa Autumn 2009. The shaven eyebrowed one has failed to set the world alight so far this season, to the extent that he has suffered the indignity of being usurped within the England team by Theo blinking Walcott. Last autumn Gareth Bale was still a jinx on Tottenham, and Lennon was beginning to hit the form of his life. A return to such halcyon days on the right wing would be peachy, and might also have the pleasant side-effect of bucking up Corluka.

5. Three Points. This business of adjusting to life in the Champions League is all well and good, but at some point or other our heroes will be forced to get their hands dirty and rack up a string of Premiership wins. Frankly I think I would trade in all of the above and more for a win, just to re-rail a League campaign that has hinted at full-blown derailment.

By no means a definitive list, but as we at AANP Towers are dusting down our cravats and cummerbands, in preparation for nocturnal acquaintanceship with the charming young ladies of America, I’m sure you’ll excuse the brevity. You get the gist – three points; glorious performance; no injuries; return to form from those off colour. Make me proud, chaps.

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Spurs match reports

Werder Bremen 2-2 Spurs: Backing ‘Arry’s All-Action Approach

Take that, Champions League. Cagey away teams? Ten men behind the ball? Sheer gubbins, cried the merry men of White Hart Lane. We did it the Tottenham way, and while some will probably berate ‘Arry for not adopting a more conservative approach, particularly when two goals ahead, I revelled almost drunkenly in our insistence upon flying forward at every given opportunity. Some – nay, many – will lambast our approach as naive, but I was chuffed to my core to witness a Tottenham side deciding against sitting upon an early lead, and instead looking to stretch further and further ahead, playing some absolutely coruscating one-touch football in the process. Our lot looked more psyched than they have done since – well, since the last Champions League game, and were ruddy well worth a two-gola first half lead.

Point of note: we were actually cruising until we actually conceded. Our advantage was by no means reduced because of capitulation to opposition pressure – in fact Carlo Cudicini barely needed to break sweat, beyond thumping the odd back-pass upfield. Trouble only reared its head when Benny Assou-Ekotto delivered a clearance so wild, needless and bizarrely backward that it prompted the chap sitting next to me to proclaim that it was part of a betting scam. From a situation of no danger whatsoever we conceded a throw, from which Bremen scored, and about 43 minutes of cracking first half work was instantly undone. Curses.

Van der Vaart: AANP Favourite

But what cracking first half work it was. Blinking heck. In our first ever official Champions League game Rafael van der Vaart demonstrated all his top-level nous, and played like a man possessed, without any of the rabid insanity. All composed passing and intelligent vision, the mildly cross-eyed Dutch genius coolly bossed the game. And we absolutely rocked. Aaron Lennon was again strangely subdued, despite going eyeball-to-eyeball with the deeply old and slow Mikael Silvestre, but everyone else with an attacking bent handily brought along their A-game.

Par example: it always pains me to say it, but – in the first half at least – Jermaine Jenas was mightily impressive. In fact, I even made a note of the first time I noticed him play a backwards pass: 62 mins, 51 seconds. Until then he buzzed with positive intent and first-time distribution, and his volley to create the second goal was particularly impressive. The Hudd provided a good deep-lying outlet; Kaboul played with aggressive intent at the back; everything was chugging along just tickety-boo. The concession of goals and removal of VDV ruined things, but the first half provided plenty of cause for encouragement, and had me musing that the additions of Modders, Gomes, Daws and Defoe would turn us into a cracking little CL outfit.

Elsewhere On The Pitch…

The AANP theory on Peter Crouch is that the novelty has worn off domestically, so that every Premiership defence feels relatively at ease in formulating a plan to deal with him; but continental opposition, either at club or country level, are inclined to defecate in their shorts at the sight of him, all pointy and long, stumbling towards them like a gargantuan grasshopper. Whatever the reason, Bremen struggled to get to grips with the blighter and he led the line jolly well, holding it up, laying it off as appropriate and taking his goal well. (Didn’t stop me cursing his entire family when he messed up that late chance though.)

I have begun to speculate that everything positive that occurs in the universe is prompted by Gareth Bale, and this near-faultless notion was corroborated by his performance, with the cross for the first goal demonstrating the value of whipping a cross into a dangerous area, rather than trying to pick out a particular chum. Aaron Lennon take note. By contrast, too many bad things happen when BAE gets hold of the ball, and he and Corluka look too much like the weak links in our line-up.

The goals either side of the interval damn well knocked the wind from our sails, and the absence of Mr VDV certainly did not aid matters, as the ball morphed from cuddly pet cherished by all to hot potato feared by every man and his dog, but in the final analysis a point away from home is no mean feat in the Champions League. I don’t doubt that many will demand the rolling of heads, and insist that a more conservative approach is required on European away days, but around these parts the cockles are warmed by the sight of a Tottenham team gamely taking every opportunity to attack, and pinging the ball around in confident one-touch style. I considered that in the first half, even though the away team, we did the right thing in taking the game to Bremen, and had we made it to half-time with a clean sheet we might have returned with three points rather than one. I for one would be a mite disappointed if we abandoned this attack-minded philosophy in favour of defending for a nil-nil, counter-attacking style from first minute to last – but to each their own.

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Spurs match reports

West Brom 1-1 Spurs: The Glorious New Era Begins

 With apologies for the tardiness – this missive is penned from a NYC-to-DC coach, as the all-action holiday in America continues.

Thus began the glorious new era. Designed with a view to travelling to the San Siro and such places, and chastened by the Young Boys plastic pitch experience, ‘Arry  unveiled his brand spanking new and eagerly-awaited  4-4-1-1 away formation, and I found myself anticipating it in the same excited manner with which I used to look forward to the launch of a new away kit, as a nipper.

Back in 1991 it was a yellow Umbro number with jagged blue flashes on one shoulder and the shorts. In September 2010 it was 4-4-1-1, with Rafael van der Vaart in the hole behind the front-man; Modders and Bale working the left; Lennon wide right; and Sergeant Wilson and Hudd providing a central buffer for the defence. On paper it looks awesome, in Championship Manager it probably would work a treat, and for 20 minutes or so on Saturday it seemed a grand idea, but by the full-time whistle our heroes were hanging on in far from convincing manner, and it was apparent that this wondrous innovation required some tweaking.

Homework for This Week

The return of the walking wounded, coupled with improved fitness amongst the newbies, will probably improve matters, but neither manager nor players ought to be short of things to practise in the coming days. Messrs VDV and Gallas would probably benefit from a few shuttle runs and a bleep test, but the former at least showed, sporadically, that he will be a rather tasty addition to the White Hart Lane cast list. Our glorious leader has been licking his lips at the prospect of VDV and Modders getting better acquainted, and it is not difficult to see why, but that particular best-laid plan went fairly swiftly agley on Saturday. As Modders hit the deck and departed stage left, the signal was given and the Bell of Doom duly rung at AANP Towers. Mercifully however the prognosis is not too serious.

Modric’s departure did not help, but in general the midfield made dashed hard work of things. When a greying, pot-bellied Hudd gathers around the grandchildren several decades hence and tells them tales of his glory days in the Tottenham midfield, the September 2010 game away to West Brom is unlikely to figure too prominently in his rich tapestry. With all around him eagerly charging forward he seemed a little uncomfortable with his role alongside the Sergeant, of buffering the back-four.Palacios meanwhile is diligently continuing his fall from grace, with another performance of questionable quality. His arrival some 18 months ago, and the six months of glorious tenacity that followed, seemed a lifetime away on Saturday. Grumblings of discontent will presumably be increasing in volume around the streets of N17, and the name of Sandro more frequently thrown into conversation. Disappointing stuff too from young Aaron Lennon, while the new-look defence will also need to rehearse their lines a little better and poor old Pav beavered away without much joy in the lone striker role.

 

Must Do Better Chaps…

A draw away to West Brom is not quite disastrous, but if this is the prototype for Champions League away days then by golly our heroes need to sharpen up their act. One point from two eminently winnable games suggests that much elbow-grease will be required (not to mention a striker capable of leading the line on his own in a 4-5-1) if the glories of last season are to be replicated.

Sincere thanks to SiberiaSpur for providing the info that enabled me to watch the soccer out here…

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Spurs match reports

Spurs 0-1 Wigan: An Anomaly. Right?

Well this is embarrassing. After all the hubbub last week about the Champions League and Inter Milan the decent thing would have been to have given Wigan a good thrashing, destroy their crops and set fire to their small children. Instead, I return from a weekend away at a wedding to find my Spurs-supporting chums refusing to make eye-contact, shuffling their feet and muttering about uncanny happenings in the cricket.

 

Four points from three domestic games then, on top of which there was the meltdown in the Young Boys first leg and the march of triumph in the second. When set out like that it seems that so far this season we have already covered just about every possible base from sublime to ridiculous.

 

CRISIS!!! (Just Kidding)

 

In the wake of Saturday’s debacle various members of our clan have been grabbing each other by the collars and screeching not to panic, because this is not – repeat, not – a crisis. One shoddy home defeat doth not a crisis make. Such mishaps as this occurred a couple of times last season, and were soon swallowed up by all-singing, all-dancing wizadry against the Premiership’s elite. Moreover, even this season the bright and bubbly start against Man City, hard-earned win at Stoke and jolly romp against Young Boys suggests that matters at N17 are, broadly, still tickety-boo. Somebody somewhere probably needs a good slap on the wrist after the Wigan game, but otherwise this is probably one to be glossed over before normal service is resumed.

 

There is, of course, the concern we dare not voice – that this sort of nonsense will follow every Champions League outing. Before we begin scrambling for places aboard that particular bandwagon it is worth recalling that the win at Stoke three days after our trip to Switzerland suggested no such malady, but time shall tell on this front. In terms of numbers and Premiership-standard personnel I would think our squad is capable of coping with a slightly bloated fixture-list, but it would nevertheless be cheery to see a little extra sprinkling of quality added to our ranks before the transfer window shuts.

 

Onwards

Our heroes now have a couple of weeks during which to sit in the naughty corner and think about what they have done, and the curiously alliterative glut of games (West Brom, Wolves, West Ham) that follows represents a chance to right a few wrongs and go making merry, with goals and points aplenty. Mind you, fluff our lines against that lot and I won’t be able to sleep at night for the mocking laughs from the ghosts of Gerry Francis and Christian Gross. This business, of outclassing a team in every department on paper, only to succumb with excruciating apathy on the green stuff, happened far too often back in the day for me simply to forget about it in the blink of an eye. However, bag a few consecutive wins – and it is eminently feasible – and Wigan at home will be regarded as this season’s White Hart Lane anomaly.

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Spurs match reports

Spurs 4-0 Young Boys: Bring On The Big Boys

Well the prophets of doom can stick that in their pipes and smoke it. Admittedly it was not exactly vintage, one-touch, rapier-like Tottenham, but then that was understandable enough – in defence of our heroes, I think if I had simply to catch a bus for £20 million I might be a little more cautious than normal. Still, while it may have lacked panache in places the performance oozed professionalism, efficiency and good old-fashioned, red-blooded desire from the off.  Only one Spurs team in history has competed in Europe’s elite club competition before this season, so our heroes deserve all the accolades heaped upon them, both for last season’s efforts and the thorough negotiation of last night’s potential banana-skin.

 

There are a handful of phrases by which we live here at AANP Towers. You know the sort, essential pearls of wisdom fashioned by time itself.  “Women – can’t live with them, can’t kill them,” and suchlike, but another such bon mot is “By jiminy, thank goodness for that early goal, ought to steady the nerves, what? (Let’s hope we don’t now sit back and invite trouble)”. And lo and behold, when Bale lobbed one in, Crouch stooped, we had ourselves the early goal and all was right with the world. I’ll never know, but I often stroke the whiskers in contemplation of what it would be like to be a good citizen of Tottenham, idly minding his own fare and wandering along the High Road at the exact moment that a goal of such magnitude is scored, and it sounds for all intents and purposes like the sky is collapsing in on itself. The perfect start, at which instant White Hart Lane became so excited it pretty much went ‘bang’ in a puff of smoke.

 

Life Minus Modders

 

Back on the green stuff (au naturale, rather than the dastardly tenth-generation macrofibres, or whatever the deuces they used out in the Wankdorf Stadium) we controlled the game in a very careful fashion. To his credit, from first whistle to last Sergeant Wilson bore his fangs like an illegally-bred fighting mutt, and this midfield bite was welcome, our heroes following his lead and pressing the Young Boys (if you pardon the phrase) high up the pitch. However, the deficiency of a midfield bereft of Modders was evident. Hudd’s passing, long and short, is joyous to behold, but neither he nor Palacios are the type to run with the ball from the centre. As a result there was a slight dearth of central creativity, and several symptoms of Crouch-itis in the team, as a number of long-balls were launched up to the gangly one (although he did a topping job of shielding the thing like a new-born babe while it was conveyed from heavens to turf), while the heart always thumps upwards against the mouth around these parts when we play those square balls across that 10-yard space just in front of our back-four. This, however, is somewhat hypercritical, for in truth, in the game of their lives our heroes were barely threatened.

 

Young Boys for their part adopted some curious tactics – leaving the 6’ 7” striker unmarked at corners, time-wasting when trailing 2-0, etc. I was going to commend their right-back for doing a generally sound job on Bale, in not allowing the handsome young Welshman unrestricted access throughout to the yawning wide expanses of greenery in that particular corner of the Lane – until it dawned on me that His Royal Baleness actually provided the assists for all four goals, and got the right-back sent off. And that on what, for Bale, was a relatively quiet day. For all their attacking prowess last week, Young Boys, even when 3-0 up, looked porous at the back last week, and having excelled themselves on home turf they were no match for us this time. Pot Three awaits.

 

Negatives

 

For a start, I lost my delightful, gleaming Tottenham Hotspur flag within about 30 seconds of kick-off, trampled into the dirt several rows in front of me. Of arguably equal importance on such a momentous night, Gomes hobbled off halfway through. Some need to be mown down by an Uzi before signalling for treatment; our loveable net-minder is not of that near-invincible breed. Should a butterfly sneeze in his direction Gomes signals to the bench for Florence Nightingale and 24-hour care, so when he winced and limped his way to the dressing-room at half-time I raised an eyebrow in scepticism. Time shall tell I guess, but back in the day I suspect that Gomes had a leading – and non-lupine – role in his school production of ‘The Boy Who Cried Wolf’.

 

Also disappointed in the boy Defoe. Bluntly, he cheated. Admittedly he had the good grace to look long, hard and incredulously at each of the numerous officials before celebrating, but I don’t like to see Spurs players deliberately breaking the rules to gain an advantage. Mind you, his curious natterings about “destiny” beforehand now seem to make a bit more sense.

 

However, irrespective of the officials’ call, his finish was classic Defoe. If he does require surgery, it will do him the world of good to have such a clinical finish under his belt while he twiddles his thumbs and heals.

 

Elsewhere On The Pitch

 

After last week Young Boys evidently thought that BAE was the susceptible heel within our mighty Achilles, but the headbanded one brought his A-game and did not allow them a sniff. Dawson also banished the memories of last week with an imperious display, while Hudd purred his way through the game.

 

Que Sera Sera, Whatever Will Be Will Be

 

And so to the future. ‘Arry has hinted that he has no intention of dipping into his humungous new transfer kitty, but I have my fingers firmly crossed that this is fabrication of the highest order. Now that our participation is guaranteed we are running a Mission Impossible-esque race against the clock before the transfer window is closed, bolted and has curtains pulled across it for good measure. With Gallas on board I’m not sure a centre-back is still a priority, but a top-notch striker, capable of leading the line in vacuo would be mighty handy.

 

The draw for the much-vaunted Group Stages also awaits, and for some reason our non-existent Champions League pedigree lands us in the third of four pots. So be it. Some are hoping to avoid the big guns and thereby ease our passage to the next phase, but here at AANP Towers we are fervently beseeching the clueless UEFA suits to hand us the cream of Europe so that we can welcome to the Lane the finest kickers of a pig’s bladder currently roving the planet. Any one or two from Barca, Milan, Inter or Real would be just dandy. Because that is the company we can now keep.

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Spurs match reports

Stoke 1-2 Spurs: Gareth Bale Gets The Alan Partridge Treatment

Once upon a time a trip to Stoke with a depleted team would have been the cue for our lot to step back, usher in the opposition and direct them towards a three-point haul with minimal fuss. Now, however, it seems our heroes have steel, and backbone, and other clichéd, macho-sounding adjectives. They have evolved into footballing vertebrates, who stomp around the dressing-room pre kick-off making clenched fists and shouting “Grrr”. There was evidence aplenty of this trait last season, when we turned the away win into something of an art-form, but I had worried over the summer that that would prove an anomaly, for our soft underbelly had been nurtured over several years, and such old habits die hard.

 

How marvellous then to behold the return yesterday of squad depth and a determination not to roll over and die. Had we lost yesterday, or even conceded a late equaliser, there would have been plenty of fairly valid excuses, not least injuries and the rigours of our midweek European game. Yet despite these we instead dug in, and while we certainly rode our luck at times the win can nevertheless be considered ruddy well-earned. Forget about slick passing triangles, and glorious derby wins at the Lane – come the end of the season in order to push for fourth again we will need a great big sack of points from scrappy away days such as this, when a decimated squad faces an Alamo-style barrage.

 

4-5-1 and Jermaine Jenas

 

The backs-to-the-wall finale means that this probably deserves to be filed under the “Winning Ugly” column, but we did also churn out some eye-pleasing stuff in the first half, as exemplified by the build-up to both goals. With Crouch on his own in attack the success of our 4-5-1 depended on Lennon and Bale attacking the area, and Jenas making the occasional lollop forward in support. In the first half in particular this approach met with a degree of success, which leads me to doff my cap in the direction of J. Jenas Esquire, as tends to happen approximately once every sixth months.

 

With the platform of Hudd and Sergeant Wilson behind him he adopted an unusually proactive approach, eschewing the traditional urge to turn around pass backwards and instead venturing on the odd gallop towards the Stoke goal. Indeed his dash into the area just before half-time was vaguely Lampard-esque (and had he been more clinical it might have brought him a goal). I would still sell him off in the blink of an eye, but with five attacking types out injured, he served his purpose as a squad-player yesterday.

 

Hits And Misses From Gomes

 

Not entirely to which genre the performance of Heurelho Gomes belongs. The stretchy Brazilian got himself in a right pickle for the Stoke goal, made a similar mess of things from a second half corner (from which Tuncay really ought to have scored) and generally veered perilously close to becoming that butter-fingered doppelganger who flapped and spilt his way through his first few months in English football. However, aside from the set-piece mishaps he actually saved our bacon more than once, with a cracking tip-over-the-bar from a Tuncay lob, as well as a low reflex save from Fuller. A happy ending means it is all smiles, but a return to the wobbly days of yore would be unwelcome.

 

Bale’s Volley: Sometimes A Commentator Nails The Moment

 

And so to the boy Bale. His first may have been a tad unorthodox, but his second deserves to be turned into a big-budget Hollywood production. Multiple viewings have left me drooling at the technique – and actually wincing at quite how high he raises his left leg – but the first-time, real-time viewing of it stunned me for the audacity he showed in even attempting such nonsense. Hark thee back to Alan Partridge’s football commentary, from back in the day (just here, specifically around 0.50), and the rather apt exclamation on seeing one particularly eye-catching goal of: “Shit! Did you see that?” Quite the mot juste for anyone witnessing Bale’s latest. My goodness the boy still needs to work on his celebrations though.

 

For all the late controversy, broadly speaking it was a pleasingly determined defensive effort, while up the other end we can be grateful to have in our ranks forwards capable of producing the odd moment of match-winning quality. Glad to have ticked “Stoke, away” off the fixture-list. Onwards.

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Spurs match reports

Young Boys 3-2 Spurs: History Repeating Itself?

Well first of all, a history lesson: in our first ever European Cup tie, back in 1962, Blanchflower, Mackay et al travelled to Poland to play Gornik, under the auspices of Bill Nick, and promptly found themselves 4-0 down at half-time, before scoring two late goals. Back at the Lane in the return leg we won 8-1… (That and just about everything else in our history can be read about in AANP’s book Spurs’ Cult Heroes, now a tenner on Amazon, ahem).So that, ladies and gents, is the Champions League, Tottenham style. Despite the fact that players, management, fans, pundits and just about anyone remotely connected with the club had spent the entire summer banging on about the Champions League, our lot looked to be taken completely by surprise by the whole experience. Everywhere we looked players were discovering new and exciting forms of ineptitude. Daws and Bassong spent the first half hour diligently practising their Corluka-running impressions, and by half-time had given some near-perfect examples of that running-through-quicksand look. If there is a physical opposite to Velcro, Pav appeared to have wrapped himself in it in the first half, as the ball flew several yards away from him every time he tried to control it. And so on. Giovani looked lively in the opening stages, but the rest of them ought to have worn sixes and sevens on the back of their shirts. Action in places, but not the merest semblance of plot.

And yet, even despite the sudden presence of Larry, Curly and Moe in the Tottenham defence, the feeling around these parts persisted that we would at some point sneak an away goal or two and have plenty to play for in the second leg. From the outset, although our hosts were merrily waltzing through our back line, there were some fairly straightforward indications their own defence was far from watertight, with Giovani and Defoe spurning a couple of early opportunities. A more seasoned CL outfit may well have slammed the door in our faces and lobbed the key into the Rhine; instead, for all the euphoria of their early blitz Young Boys seemed oblivious to the fact that in European competition a miserly defence at home is paramount.

We May Have Ourselves A Scapegoat…

Presumably much will be made of the plastic pitch, but from the comfort of the AANP armchair it is difficult to know quite how great an impact that had. It may have had a psychological effect, or it may have meant that any pass over 20 yards fizzed off the surface and away, but whatever the reason, the introduction of Hudd, and the short passing he brought with him, certainly seemed to aid our recovery. Passes under 10 yards looked like they were easier to control, and for a period either side of half-time the players appeared to warm to the task.

By and large however, they made it look like they were running across a minefield rather than an artificial pitch. Ought not these chaps, whose entire lives have been geared towards mastering the dark arts of a size 5 football, have been capable of adjusting to Astroturf pronto? Perhaps, but AANP is reluctant to chastise our lot on this account until I’ve walked a mile in their astro boots. Moreover, injuries sustained by Defoe and Modders suggests that beneath those artificial fibres lurked some malevolent daemon of terra firma. No doubt our heroes will be a darned sight happier on the green, green grass of home. 

A Word On Our Glorious Leader 

We’ll Be Fine

An inauspicious start then, but better things should await in the second leg. No doubt we rode our luck yesterday, as Young Boys could have hit five or six but for some schoolboy (sorry, couldn’t resist) finishing. Nevertheless with Ledley quite possibly to be restored to offer some almost motherly reassurance and organisation at the back, plus Aaron Lennon waiting in the wings, and Gareth Bale yet to make an impact on the tie, I sense that our opponents have blown a good opportunity to give themselves a much more imposing lead.

So, unusually, panic is nowhere to be seen at AANP Towers. If we hit a level remotely near the standards of last season I back us to cruise through, particularly at a throbbing, floodlit White Hart Lane. It may of course all go pear-shaped again (recall ye our UEFA Quarter Final home leg to Sevilla, a few years back, when after an encouraging 2-1 away leg defeat we cunningly conceded twice in the first ten minutes at the Lane to set ourselves a Herculean task), but I personally draw inspiration from the class of ’62, and their christening of Tottenham’s European adventures with the concession of four first-half goals, before proceeding to a 10-5 aggregate victory. Gifting the opposition an early lead, and generally doing everything in our powers to complicate the uncomplicated is a peculiarly Tottenham trait, as proudly displayed today as five decades ago. One-nil may suffice next week, but I suspect that our lot will find a vastly more complicated means of progressing.

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Spurs match reports

Spurs 0-0 Man City: Curses Upon Inspired Opposition Goalkeepers

Off and running anew then, but in various senses it was if the old season had never finished. The personnel all looked pretty familiar for a start, the sumptuous brand of football rolled out brought back sepia-tinged memories of the finer moments of season 2009/10 – and alas the profligacy of old also made an unwelcome return.AANP’s wish-list for the new season may have been hastily scribbled at the eleventh hour on the back of an envelope, but (unnervingly) at least one point has already proved frsutratingly prescient:

Be More Clinical In The Crunch Games 

 

While the blank we drew yesterday was due more to the heroics of the opposition goalkeeper than to egregiously bad finishing from our heroes, the point remains that one avenue for improvement is in increasing our ratio of gilt-edged chances created to goals scored.

A Thousand Curses Upon Inspired Opposition Goalkeepers

Tempting to search for a scapegoat, particularly after such a one-sided first half, but in truth just about all eleven of them – plus the three subs – turned in above-par performances. In such circumstances the default option here at AANP Towers is always to blame Jermaine Jenas, but, levity aside, it would be rather harsh to attribute point the finger at any of our lot. ‘Twas just one of those days. With a sprinkle of good fortune we would now be mixing it with Blackpool atop the table; alas, within the four walls of AANP Towers it is a truth universally acknowledged that if there is any luck going in North London, it goes the way of l’Arse (last-minute own-goal equaliser, the swines).

Last season, there were a number of games in which we created umpteen chances. Sometimes it seemed that just about all of them flew in (Wigan springing obviously to mind); on other occasions we came up against a goalkeeper turning in the performance of his career (Hull City, and that darned Boaz Myhill – whose obscurity since has been reflected by a headline-avoiding low-fee transfer this summer). Yesterday fell into the latter category, but we are consoling ourselves around these parts that more often than not our heroes will be rewarded for such performances with three points and shiny gold stars.

Consistency? At Tottenham Hotspur FC? Madness. 

The lack of transfer activity has caused a degree of disquiet in some quarters – including these, I must confess – but the benefits of a summer bereft of transfer activity could be witnessed from the off yesterday. While the City team assembled at a cost of approximately several million billion trillion pounds looked every inch a bunch of strangers newly-introduced, as they struggled to get a touch of the ball for the first 45 minutes, our lot gave an interesting tutorial in the benefits of consistency (not an adjective bandied around these parts too often in recent years).

The starting XI bore just the one change (Charlie for Kaboul) from the team that beat City at Eastlands last May, and as Bale and Lennon set about harassing the City full-backs (if that was Micah Richards’ audition for a White Hart Lane move I’d rather we politely discontinue our interest) it really was as if last season had not ended. None of that business of new management needing to dish out name badges, or a whole platoon of new faces needing to gel – our current lot should know each other’s deepest darkest secrets by now, and they set about their business on the green stuff looking accordingly square pegs in appropriately-shaped holes.

Other Points of Notes

As BAE’s volley dipped and swerved AANP idly wondered whether an audacious brush with the spectacular is going to be an annual first-day-of-the-season offering from the lad. Further up the field, he may not have been a big-money transfer as such, but the introduction of Giovani from the bench was a reminder that recalled loanees are vaguely akin to new signings, and the sprightly Mexican is one who would have commanded a sizeable fee. May he live long and prosper at the Lane.

An honourable mention too to HRH the King. Given the urban legends about his ricekty knees it is always reassuring to see some small child stumbling out of the White Hart Lane tunnel hand-in-hand with Ledley, just prior to kick-off. Having managed three games in a week at the end of last season it is not inconceivable that he might yet be good to go again on Tuesday in the Champions League (I trust it feels as good to read those last few words as it did to write them…).

So two points dropped they may be, but after careful inspection of the liquid content, refraction of light and meniscus level, AANP ventures that the glass is half full.  To spend 45 minutes fairly uninterruptedly slicing open one of our principal rivals for whatever it is at which we’re aiming this season (fourth? sixth? a trophy?) constitutes a decent start, and bodes fairly well. Even though standards were noticeably lower in the second half, we arguably created more – and better – chances. Darned frustrating stuff, but a decent start nonetheless.