Tag: Joao Palhinha

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

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

Spurs 1-1 Wolves: Three Tottenham Talking Points

(With apologies for recent radio silence – a lot going on at AANP Towers)

1. Misdirected First Half Optimism, Featuring Bergvall and Kudus

Hindsight, as a rather wise old egg once put it, is 20-20, so I suppose I look a bit of a chump admitting it now, but back in the first half of this binge there were one or two moments when I nestled in my seat rather smugly, a look of satisfaction etched across the map, as if to say “I’m rather enjoying watching our lot go at it.”

Back in that halcyon age, while it would be a stretch to say we were running riot and biffing the other lot from all angles with gay abandon, once settled in (i.e. after about a quarter of an hour or so), I did get the impression that the key question de jour was “When?” rather than “If?” if you get my gist.

And this sunny rationale was based largely upon the plans and deeds of Messrs Bergvall and Kudus, both of whom, in their own unique ways, seemed to be having rather a time of things. Indeed, for the disallowed goal they even crossed the streams, so to speak, interacting and exchanging pro tips on how to go about carving up an opposition back-line to pretty impressive effect.

Bergvall was very much on brand in that first half. If there were any beavering to be done, in an attacking sense in particular, he was generally at the front of the queue, both in and out of possession. Busily scurrying about the place, he had the air of a young man who looked ahead of him and saw nothing but opportunity. The chap has fast become an essential cog in the machine.

Kudus, of course, is a pretty different beast, being the robust sort of chappie who puts a bit more emphasis on meaty brawn and upper-body strength than young Bergvall. In his own way though, he’s equally effective, and having racked up that early header that was pushed onto the bar, as well as the disallowed goal, I was inclined to murmur a prognostication that when we did eventually take the lead, the fingerprints of Kudus would be all over the critical item.

And had that first half never ended, I’m still inclined to think that Kudus and Bergvall between them would have rustled up a goal or two from somewhere, and we’d have all swanned off down the High Road pipped to the gills with the night’s work.

2. The Oddly Lacklustre Second Half

Alas, all such sunny optimism rather went up in smoke as soon as the second half started, our lot becoming oddly reticent about the evening’s activities.

With the stunning insight that marks out AANP as a fan rather than a coach, I struggle to put my finger on what exactly went wrong, but the symptoms were fairly clearly demarked. Every loose ball seemed to be won by Wolves, and when they took possession of the thing they seemed oddly to have an extra man on the field, everywhere one looked. Had this happened against PSG back in August, one might have waved the forgiving hand; but to find ourselves comprehensively bested in one duel after another against the mob that sit bottom of the pile, and boasting a record of five defeats from five, was bothersome to say the very least. Had

It was not so much that there was a lack of effort from our heroes. They seemed sufficiently motivated. They just ended up being second-best in almost every matter that required on-pitch thrashing out – as was particularly neatly encapsulated by the Wolves goal.

I suppose one or two of our number can probably be excused – Palhinha seems convinced that the point of a football match is to flatten as many opponents as possible; and Romero’s adoption of the captain’s armband continues to translate into him charging about the pitch like a man possessed.

But seeing the more featherweight sorts – Tel, Odobert et al – hare towards the ball only to reach it a moment too late, or find themselves bouncing off a lusty opponent, left me harumphing discontentedly in my seat, and occasionally flinging a frustrated arm into the air, like nobody’s business.

Coming as this did, not too long after the dreadful, toothless production against Bournemouth, this served as another sharp poke in the Thomas Frank ribs, to urge him to find ongoing ways to get the best out of his charges.

3. Vicario’s Role in the Goal (With A Wary Eye on Spence)

Now AANP can hardly claim to have canvassed opinion of all sixty-odd thousand in the shiny bowl last night, much less the watching millions drinking it all in from their sofas, but nevertheless a murmur of discontent did reach my ears regarding the conduct of our resident last-line-of-defence, in particular regarding his handling of the goal we conceded.

The charge, as I understand, is that in saving the initial header directed towards him he might have invested in a longer-term solution than simply shoving it straight into a bundle of waiting limbs to his right, the result of which action was a ricochet that fell kindly to the Wolves shyster S. Bueno.

Well. Here I really do I have to draw myself up to my full height and clear my throat with a bit of meaning. Now I’ve historically been as happy as the next man to lay it on a bit thick towards Vicario at the appropriate moment – a flap at a corner, or knuckle-headed distribution, or whatever – but in this instance I stand shoulder to shoulder with the chap. As far as I could make out, Vicario pretty much ticked the essential boxes with that save.

In the first place, he got there. Full stretch, and levering himself off the ground, it was one I suppose you’d expect an international goalkeeper to pull off, but nevertheless, it required a spot of the basic mechanics, and he did that well enough – particularly given that the principal protagonist, Bueno S, was swinging a boot at the ball from a yard away.

Having reached the ball, where Vicario seems to have attracted opprobrium was in then shovelling it to his right, and into the legs of Palhinha. Here again, however, I side with the case for the defence. Vicario’s second objective, having already stopped the ball from hitting the net, would have been to push it away from the centre of the goal – and this he did. That there was an onrushing Wolves sort arriving at a rate of knots stage right was slightly rotten luck, and an element that ought to have been the responsibility of one of the outfield mob, rather than Vicario. (Although I repeat, the ball actually bounced of Palhinha rather than the incoming Wolve).

Either way, I thought Vicario did all that could reasonably have been expected of him in that particular chapter. If I were to point an accusing finger and yell a spot of invective, it would be directed at young Djed Spence. This might seem a tad leftfield to the casual bystander, but look again, closely, at the details, and you’ll note that as the corner was initially delivered, Spence’s defensive responsibility consisted of chaperoning the Wolves number 4 – one Santiago Bueno.

Spence, however, seemed to shrug off this responsibility as soon as the corner was taken, immediately losing sight of his quarry and instead becoming distracted by the prospect of a header. He lost both the header and Bueno, allowing the latter to swing an initial boot at the ball as Vicario made his save, and then to poke in the rebound as it fell neatly into his path.

This level of defending drives me absolutely mad. It should not be so difficult to keep tabs on an opponent at a corner. One understands if a run is blocked off or a spot of wrestling ensues – but none of the above applied to Spence in this instance. He simply forgot his raison d’etre, and let Bueno have the freedom of the 6-yard box, forsooth.

Not that the two dropped points were the sole responsibility of Spence, of course, but those scowling and muttering about Vicario’s antics might adjust their aim.

A draw is, of course, vastly preferable to a defeat, but AANP is in no doubt that these are two dropped points that we’ll look back upon with regret come May. I’m not entirely sure that Palhinha read the mood in the camp either, whipping off his shirt and flying off in a frenzy after an equaliser against Wolves of all teams, when the drill was surely to return to stations and search for a winner, but I suppose for now we should simply be grateful for what we salvaged.