Tag: Defoe

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Spurs match reports

Birmingham 1-1 Spurs: How to Lose Two Points in 45 Minutes

Curses. There has been some debate across various corners of the interweb, but here at AANP Towers we had rather been enjoying the exalted status of title dark-horses, and accordingly mark this down as two points lost. No catastrophe, but if we can win at the Emirates we should be able to win just about anywhere, especially after giving the opposition a one-goal first-half thrashing, if such a thing there be.Everything looked fairly tickety-boo in the first half. While Birmingham occasionally reminded us that they were taking part, flapping around in their own area and occasionally placing half a foot on the little round thing, we generally bossed proceedings. The usual suspects were summoned and duly earned their corn. Modders dictated matters in between nervous flicks of his mop; Lennon occasionally surfaced to race past his man, before racing just as quickly out of the limelight; and Bale continued his search for new and exciting ways to escape the ever-growing army of deviants sent to contain him.

One-way traffic, which ought to have been reflected by a half-time scoreline greater than one-nil, but such are the hazards of operating with Crouch in attack. He seemed hell-bent on getting all his limbs under control before attempting to shoot. Reasonable enough I suppose, but it made for typically infuriating viewing at times, when the ball itself seemed to beg him to be thumped into the net.

In our official capacity as Kings of the Second Half Comeback we really ought to have known better than to wither away and gently die after the break, but that we did. Irony abounded in fact, for not only were we this time on the receiving end of a late fightback, but Birmingham even used against us that very Plan B to which we assumed we had exclusive rights. On came their giant striker, the aerial bombardment began, the goal arrived. The introduction of Birmingham’s very own slightly inept beanpole as we defended a one-goal lead with ten minutes remaining might have been the cue for ‘Arry to reinforce things with the introduction of Michael Dawson, but such a call is easy to make after the event, and as caution is not exactly in the Tottenham DNA the only substitution ‘Arry plumped for was Princess Pav for Defoe.

Elsewhere On The Pitch… 

Gallas continued to lead by example, and Sergeant Wilson’s ongoing malaise does not really show much sign of abating, but one of the most eye-catching aspect of proceedings was on the bench rather than the pitch. Egads – two substitute ‘keepers! This injury business really is veering wildly out of hand, and with those marvellous FA suits deciding that squads this season are limited to 25 we are only a couple more groin strains from the sight of Cudicini showing Palacios how it’s done in midfield, or even an appearance from Niko Kranjcar.

Elsewhere Off The Pitch… 

Monsieur Bassong has also hinted at a move over the weekend, on the not unreasonable basis that he wants first-team football. He certainly does a handy job as sixth-choice centre-back, but presuming Daws and Kaboul return to fitness (Ledley and Woodgate represent a different kettle of fish) young Bassong’s chances will remain limited, and “adieu” it may well be.

Back to the game. An unfortunate weekend to drop points, with l’Arse and Man City both winning, but it hardly signals the end of our season, and there will be weeks when we profit and others slip up. Six points off top-spot – and on a four-game unbeaten run – represents fairly healthy going, particularly with a decimated squad, so I urge ye to pause before creating those “’Arry Out” placards. Victory against Chelski next week – and we can jolly well fancy our chances – would put us right back in the thick of things and banish the memory of the two points lost here. Silver lining? That our progress is such that we now consider a draw at Birmingham two points lost, while looking forward with confidence to the visit of Chelski.

“Spurs’ Cult Heroes”- A Christmas Stocking-Filler 

 

As well as cheerily reminiscing over the Tottenham careers of 20 of the club’s most popular fans’ favourites (Greaves, Blanchflower, Hoddle, Gazza, Klinsmann and the like) the book also covers some of the most fabled traditions etched into Spurs’ history: big European nights, magic Wembley moments, exotic foreign arrivals, questionable musical offerings, dodgy mullets etc. Quite the stocking-filler for the fellow lilywhite in your life.

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Spurs – Liverpool Preview (II): The Bubble Will Burst… But Not This Weekend

Having dried his tears and collected the assorted toys from outside his pram, a l’Arse-supporting chum earlier this week sent a message my way, the gist of which was that he was scratching his head in bewilderment trying for the life of him to remember the last time Spurs had enjoyed a week of quite so much good news. The man has a point. The derby win was followed by Champions League knock-out qualification, which was followed by an approving nod for a new Tottenham-based stadium, which has been followed by news that Michael Dawson is back in training, and even the rumour that Ledley is gingerly lifting himself from his wheelchair, sellotape and blu-tac duly applied to his balsawood limbs.There is talk in some quarters that our heroes really have turned the corner, and that those mentioning Spurs as potential Premiership or Champions League winners ought not necessarily to be thrown into a dusty spot of land and given a damn good thrashing for crimes against reason and common sense. A cautionary note echoes around the walls of AANP Towers for sure, as there remains a strong chance that we will finish the season not only empty-handed but also trapped in the arid and unforgiving wasteland that is the Europa League. As such, the policy around these parts is not to speculate too wildly about how the world might look come May 2011, but simply to wring every last drop of enjoyment from the present moment.

The abacus has been dusted down, and all manner of rigorous arithmetic drills undertaken, the upshot of which is that AANP can confirm that in all competitions it is now three wins and counting for our lot – and in a spirit of bonny, blithe and gay optimism I am rather inclined to think we will have our fourth come Sunday evening. The danger after a good Champions League win is that the next pre-match huddle actually consists of the players patting one another on the backs for a midweek job well done, rather than spitting, snarling and straining at the leash in preparation for the forthcoming 90 minutes. No such danger this Sunday I would hazard. The time for complacency was probably Wednesday night, with the memory of the Emirates still fresh, but Liverpool at home represents a bigger kettle of fish, the importance of which is unlikely to be underestimated.

Team News

VDV may again miss out, and the list of other absentees remains longer than a gangly limb of Peter Crouch, but there is positive news in both the return to fitness of young Master Defoe, and the sparkling efforts of Aaron Lennon on Wednesday night. If both he and Bale could hit top form simultaneously cracks would probably appear in the High Road N17 as Mother Earth struggles to cope with the thrill of it all. The bubble will burst eventually, but I have faith in our heroes to maintain the winning habit for at least one further week.

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Spurs – Werder Bremen Preview: Last Ever Champions League Night at the Lane?

It has been so much fun watching l’Arse fall apart at the seams over the last few days that I had almost forgotten we have our latest Biggest Game In Recent Memory tonight. Victory tonight would guarantee qualification to the knock-out stage of all things, and another chance for ‘Arry to shoehorn a mention of “Two-Points-Eight-Games” into his post-match press rounds. Of course in theory if things go awry on the pitch tonight – and off-pitch in the coming months – it could actually be White Hart Lane’s last ever Champions League night, which is a slightly gloomy thought. That really is a worst-case scenario however, for it seems far likelier that one way or t’other we will be reconvening in the spring for more of this floodlit revelry.These continue to be heady times for the Band-Aid manufacturers of N17, as Bale, VDV and Kranjcar are the latest injury doubts. In fact the curse of wearing a Spurs shirt and promptly collapsing in a bloodied, mangled heap has even reached AANP Towers (broken foot in Monday’s 5-a-side, since you ask). As it happens, on paper at least our team retains a look of some adequacy, for 12 months ago we would have fancied our chances with Lennon – Jenas – Palacios – Modric lining up across the midfeld. Moreover Defoe is back, looking sharp and sprightly, and now having added Aerial Bohemoth to his list of attributes, judging by his performance on Saturday. This being the Champions League, and they being foreign opposition, tonight ought also to see the transformation once again of Peter Crouch from gangly halfwit whose only value is in assisting defensively at set-pieces, to unplayable goalscoring machine who leaves opposition defenders gibbering in awe, unable to fathom which limb they should approach first.

Apparently Bremen’s recent form has been of the variety to leave their fans rushing for the nearest high ledge off which to hurl themselves, but if they are in the Champions League they can pack a punch, and in the second half in Germany they made us all sweat. No doubt they will come armed with some sort of stifling, hard-working game-plan, and if we really are minus both Bale and VDV, as well as Hudd, our attacking prowess might be a little more laboured than that to which we are accustomed.

Nevertheless, Champions League nights at the Lane have so far tended to result in goals a-plenty, at least one dodgy penalty and a handsome victory, so I anticipate that it will be a cheery mob crowding the White Hart Lane train platform come 10pm tonight.

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Arsenal 2-3 Spurs: Bang Goes The Gallas Conspiracy, & Other Agreeable Musings

“`All right,’ said the Cat; and this time it vanished quite slowly, beginning with the end of the tail, and ending with the grin, which remained some time after the rest of it had gone.”

 

And all across the lovelier half of North London, grins remain, just lingering in the air. What a marvellous weekend’s work.

 

Tactics, Tactics

 

Fully aware that we had failed to win away at the top four since the last Ice Age, ‘Arry ordered our heroes to adopt The Lazarus Approach that has served us fairly well on a couple of occasions this season on our travels in the Champions League. Accordingly, our lot just did not bother in the first half when things began at 0-0, instead opting for the challenge of overturning a multi-goal second half deficit, against a ticking clock and away from home, because it’s just much more fun that way. With the second half comeback in mind, the central midfield of Jenas and Modders diligently avoided doing anything that might be interpreted as gaining a semblance of control of the game in its opening 45 minutes, and also surreptitiously made their excuses whenever the back-four needed help in that lamentable first half.

 

All of which set things up nicely for the latest chapter in the ongoing 4-4-2 vs 4-5-1 debate. How easy it is to forget how at the start of the season ‘Arry was derided for the gung-ho 4-4-2 away to Young Boys. No two ways about it, on Saturday the half-time switch to 4-4-2 helped to prompt the about-turn. Amidst all the excitement and nerves, from my lofty perch I must confess that I rather ignored some of the subtler tactical nuances of the game, and opted instead for the more Neanderthalic approach of screaming and cursing at the TV whilst slurping beer, spearing wild animals and making fire. Nevertheless, on reflection it did seem that the addition of Defoe made the world of difference, not least by giving the l’Arse back-four reason to break sweat; while our 4-4-2 featured a distinctly narrow midfield four, which mightily effectively nullified the other lot.

 

Van Der Vaart – Huzzah!

 

VDV remains convinced that the boundaries of the pitch are marked by electric fences rather than white paint, and consequently spent his time as a right-winger ploughing straight up and down the centre of the pitch – but given that he created/scored all three of our goals, I think he earned the right to sit down on the centre-spot and smoke Amsterdam’s finest for the rest of the game if that is what he wanted. The chap’s technical mastery and love of the game was epitomised in his assist for the first goal, when I’m pretty sure he actually kissed the ball as it dropped from the sky, before letting it roll down his chest and flicking on to Bale.

 

Bale – Huzzah!

 

A propos Bale, the slick manner in which he collected the ball without breaking stride was worth a goal in itself, at least in terms of downright dreaminess. As luck would have it the equally slick manner in which he then flicked the ball past Fabianski was worth a goal in the more commonly-recognised literal manner. Aside from the magnitude of the occasion, in terms of pure quality, it was a cracking little effort – as most of his goals tend to be.

 

Gallas – Huzzah!

 

However, while VDV and Bale did the glamorous stuff, the hero of the hour and a half was back at the other end of the pitch. In recent weeks on this very corner of the interweb the commitment of Gallas to the lilywhite cause has been under great scrutiny, with suspicion rife at AANP Towers that while picking up his pay-cheque from Daniel Levy he still packs his sandwiches in an Arsenal lunch-box. Yesterday however, Gallas turned in the performance of a man possessed by the spirit of an indomitable blue and white cockerel. In the first half in particular, while his lilywhite chums fell over themselves to let l’Arse do whatever they jolly well pleased, Gallas shook a clenched fist and did his damnedest to keep those rotters at bay, with all manner of crunching tackles and dogged harrying. Whatever next?

 

Some Words on Our Vanquished Opponents

 

We tend not usually to bother with the opposition around these parts – ‘tis a Spurs blog after all – but having watched the game in the company of a couple of gooner chums the sweet smell of Schadenfreude has been wafting through the corridors of AANP Towers all weekend. Sometimes a memorable win is marked by a performance practically perfect in ever way (Inter Milan, or Chelski last season, par example). This time however, I’m happy to accept that we were awful in the first half, and hardly vintage Tottenham Hotspur in the second. It was not so much a game that had me beating my chest with pride as crying with laughter come the final whistle, for the glory glory of this occasion was to be found in the quite magnificent manner in which l’Arse imploded. Within spitting distance of the top of the table they completely lost the plot, with their handshakes and handballs and whatnot. To nab game, set and match, from two-nil down, and on their own patch – it was just too much fun.

 

Where Will It All End?

 

While our heroes no doubt charged off to Faces to celebrate, ‘Arry ensured that everyone associated with the club kept their feet on the ground by talking up our title prospects. It is possible for sure, mathematically and all that, but AANP is not going to grab its latest pay-cheque and charge down to the bookmakers quite just yet.

 

As with Saturday’s win, success this season seems likely to be aided as much by the shortcomings of others as by our own good work. One startling feature of this campaign has been the fact that every five minutes one of the genuine title-challengers is losing to a non-descript team from somewhere in that grey mid-table area. One or two good wins by any of the top five and over-excited types start making breathless noises about winning the title – which is actually a Man City reference. Opportunity certainly knocks for someone or other, and for all our dropped points against Wigan and West Ham, another top four finish remains very much within our grasp (although the return of the Champions League this week will presumably dent our league form once again).

 

Still, even if the season ends in the ignominy of failure to win the Premiership, we have already ticked off more boxes than I would have dreamed possible a few months back. Wins at home to l’Arse and Chelski last year; and sealing our top-four spot; and beating Young Boys; and beating Inter; and beating l’Arse on their own pitch – in isolation all of these are just commemorative DVDs, but add them together and our heroes are trundling along in the right direction, make no mistake.

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Arsenal – Spurs Preview: The Gallas Conspiracy Continueth

Seasoned visitors to these parts will now that on three occasions each year we simply cannot prophesy doom quickly enough. Away games at l’Arse, Chelski and Man Utd – absolutely positively guaranteed to find the famous “AANP Cheery Optimism Counter” stuck at zero for the duration of the weekend. It’s not just at AANP Towers either – I haven’t met a Spurs fan this week who gives us hope of any more than a draw. In fact, having watched the England match on Saturday I rather fancy I have glimpsed the future and already seen how Saturday’s game will pan out – lots of chaps in white shirts scurrying about with noses in air, trying desperately to get a sniff of the ball, as various French types exchange a few too many slick one-touch passes around our penalty area.The remaining 35 league games of the season I genuinely think we ought to win – all of them – but this is one of the unholy trinity, and I don’t see the pattern changing until I’m grey and old. One never knows though, and while as a fan of many years I have the prerogative to settle down into a grump ahead of this one, I expect nothing less that fire in the belly and passion stirring the souls of the eleven in lilywhite out on the pitch.

 

 

Opportunity Knocks In Absence of Hudd

 

Presumably Monsieur Wenger has hired a sniper, or my conspiracy-theorising, Spurs-supporting chum Ian is right, and William Gallas really is still on the l’Arse payroll with strict instructions to search and destroy, because the Hudd is now out of action too. Forever, from what I can glean.

 

If there is a silver lining to this, or indeed a straw at which to be groped with blind hope, it is the curious trait developing in ‘Arry’s reign for all manner of prodigal sons to come racing back into the fold, make themselves at home and transform into uber-beings of their former selves. This time last year Vedran Corluka was still waddling around the White Hart Lane turf, and Gareth Bale was about to shipped off to Nottingham Forest, while as recently as this summer just about 50% of Spurs fans had wiped Alan Hutton’s very existence from their memories. Since then Bale has become the white Pele and Hutton has established himself as the pick of our back-four, whilst possibly the last two chaps we ever thought would form our central defence have formed the bedrock of a win over Inter.

 

The point of this little warble is that Hudd’s absence will neatly open the door to some other lucky blighter, and history suggests that the next three months might therefore be the making of Jenas, Sergeant Wilson or Sandro. Indeed, whisper it, but Jamie O’Hara is still officially a Tottenham Hotspur employee. The mind boggles.

 

4-4-2 vs 4-5-1: The Defoe Edition

 

The merits and less meritorious facets of 4-4-2 and 4-5-1 were given a slightly lop-sided airing on these very pages last weekend, but the question now has a cunning twist, as the messenger pigeons come bearing news that Jermain Defoe has been sighted with jaws locked in a chomp around what is widely known as the bit. Marvellous news I’m sure you will agree, but how does this fit with the head-hurting permutations of 4-4-2 and 4-5-1.

 

Earlier this season on England duty Defoe played atop the formation, with Rooney in a VDV-esque position in the hole, and the entire thing turned into a neon-lit success – yet it seems rather unlikely that such a vertically-challenged type as Defoe will be asked to lead the line as lone striker in a 4-5-1.

A more feasible scenario would be Defoe trotting out with a bona fide striker alongside him, which would suggest Princess Pav or the wretched Crouch in a 4-4-2 (with VDV adopting that suspiciously central “right flank” role once more). Not tomorrow perhaps – away to l’Arse it seems almost certain that we will go with 4-5-1, and quite probably shunt Sergeant Wilson or Sandro into the midfield, in a desperate effort to get close to Fabregas and his chums as they triangle themselves to death -, but longer-term the return of Defoe gives us a fresh option, and a forward who is a darned sight better than Crouch when it comes to thumping the ball goalward when presented with a chance.

 

Defoe or not, there is doleful morbid pessimism around these parts, but by jove I hope that this defeatist stance proves wildly wrong come tomorrow afternoon.

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Fulham – Spurs Preview: Bigger Than Inter at the San Siro

Don’t quite remember what life was like before this interminably long international break, but I think the gist of it is that we gather every centre-back on our books and lock them in the treatment room, while the rest of our heroes daydream about the Champions League and wait for Bale and VDV to do their thing.  I read earlier this week that we are yet to win two consecutive league games this season, which sums up our slightly hotch-potch start to the campaign in rather damning fashion. No doubt our Champions League distractions have been largely responsible for this, and with a trip to the San Siro on the horizon I fear the worst at Craven Cottage tomorrow. ‘Arry has rather nobly been suggesting in the build-up to this one that the game against Fulham is bigger than Inter Milan away. While the myriad ways in which that is wrong could probably be turned into a short book, I certainly see his point, for one way or another our heroes need to be reminded that if we continue to fritter away Premiership points we will fall well short of the top four come May. Such tough-but-winnable games as Fulham away are the stuff of which a top-four finish is built.

Team News

Bassong is likely to be partnered by either Corluka or Hudd, and Defoe I think remains out, but the rest are all in working order.

‘Arry again has to choose between 4-4-2 with VDV giving the world’s worst impression of a right-winger, or 4-5-1 with the magnificent Dutchman in more natural habitat.

As for the other lot, my fantasy league research tells me that Bobby Zamora is still injured, while jaws at AANP Towers are still begin scraped from the floor in disbelief at the news from back in the summer that ex-lilywhite Simon Davies is now old enough to retire from international football. Cripes. A draw at Craven Cottage is no bad result, but this one is winnable.

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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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Werder Bremen – Spurs Preview: An Awesome 5-A-Side Team

Even observing from across the Atlantic, AANP is well aware of the worrying signs that, for all the cheer and merriment created by our Champions League qualification, our heroes are doing a dashed good impression of a pack of mutts who have bitten off more than they can chew. I’m not quite sure how tiredness can be a factor so early in the season, particularly as many of the players had an international break, but there has been a sluggishness to our recent league form, and the forthcoming glut of CL games is unlikely to freshen up any of our heroes.

Still, we can worry about all that on Saturday. Playing in the Champions League cures all known ills, and there is probably no better way to drag the players out of their stupor than to parade them in the front of the cameras to the soundtrack of the CL theme tune and 36,000 braying lilywhites in the stands.

4-4-1-1 Again. Huzzah!

“Da more I interact with humans, da more I learn.”

So drawled Arnie in Terminator 2, undoubtedly the greatest film ever to grace the AANP Towers cinema reel, and our very own glorious leader is demonstrating a similar capacity to modify his behaviour in reaction to external circumstances. In such a manner was the 4-4-1-1 birthed, and as our heroes will be gambolling across foreign soil today, the designated away formation will be unleashed upon an unsuspecting world once again. After Saturday’s periodically abysmal draw at West Brom confidence will be sky high amongst ‘Arry, Joe Jordan and chums that 4-4-1-1 will make us kings of Europe, and providing that Werder Bremen are no better than the WBA we should be absolutely fine.

Alas, our absentee list would make quite some 5-a-side team, with Gomes, Daws, Defoe and potentially Modders all staring forlornly from the sidelines, but the prospect of Ledley returning to the fold always soothes the savage beasts here at AANP Towers.

The addition of van der Vaart to our ranks reinforces the notion that our side is positively teeming with potential match-winners, and between them I fancy Bale, Kranjcar, Lennon, VDV, Hudd , Pav et al to grab a goal or two. However, this is no ordinary club competition, this is the Champions League – and with such power comes great responsibility, particularly at the back, where dubious defensive lapses will be magnified and punished. A point would represent a fine night’s work – on present form dare we hope for even more?

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West Brom – Spurs Preview: Treatment Table Tales

After the mind-numbing inactivity of the summer, this international break brought us more excitement than we could shake a stick at. All initial joy at seeing Michael Dawson march out in the England starting line-up was pretty swiftly tempered by the sight of his knee and ankle turning in about eight different directions as he hit the turf. After his Cup Semi-Final slip last year, the poor blighter must be sitting in his hospital bed plotting how best to burn Wembley to the ground. On the bright side, it is a relief to know that an injury that looked potentially season-wrecking, to the admittedly untrained eye, will only bring about an absence of eight weeks or so.Further up the pitch, there was a dark lining to what had initially seemed a pretty silver cloud in Jermain Defoe world. His England hat-trick charmingly highlighted all that we love most about him – that insistence upon hitting the target hard and low – and, rather startlingly, he also added all manner of extra tricks to his repertoire, holding up the ball, bringing others into play and generally acting like a goalscoring version of Emile Heskey. Quite bizarre. However, it ended with an ankle knock that some dark sources suggest will keep him out for several weeks. The disclaimer to bear in mind here is that a couple of weeks ago he supposedly needed groin surgery, before deciding that actually he was fine and dandy.

Transfer Gubbins

After three months of frustration we can now sink our teeth into some shiny new signings. We finally have a face to apply to the name Sandro, and although he may require five minutes or so to bed into the North London way of things, hopes are high that he will prove to be essentially an improved model of Sergeant Wilson. I also look forward to seeing more of his magnificent goatee.

AANP Towers also throws open its doors to welcome into town Rafael van der Vaart and his delectable wife. Not entirely sure how ‘Arry plans to shunt his new recruit, Modders, Kranjcar, Hudd, Sergeant Wilson and Sandro into central midfield, and furthermore the transfer hardly solves the problem of our lack of a hulking big centre-forward to lead the line,  but I have no problem with the addition of quality personnel.

 

Three Points RequiredAmidst all the excitement it is easy to forget the little matter of a trip to West Brom on Saturday. No matter the distractions of our midweek Champions League jamboree, three points are fairly blinking important after the Wigan debacle last time out. ‘Arry has displayed something of a reluctance to rotate his squad unless forced to by injuries, but with games coming thick and fast this autumn he may opt for some pick-and-mixing in the coming weeks.AANP on Holiday

Parish noticeboard – AANP has taken off to the land of Kasey Keller for a couple of weeks, so match reports might be at a premium.

 

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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.