Tag: Luka Modric

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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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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 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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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 – Wigan Preview: Same Again?

 

And so, slightly dizzying, we head straight back to the Premiership. It seems like it was only yesterday we gathered around the wireless to listen to the Champions League draw, with the breathless excitement of children on Christmas morn. From Inter to Wigan in the blink of an eye. ‘Tis a lifestyle to which we will have to become accustomed fairly rapidly.

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There was something vaguely memorable about Wigan’s last trip to the Lane, and memories of that heady November evening, combined with two early-season thrashings, suggest that our visitors may approach this fixture with a fair degree of trepidation. However, I would quite happily settle for a 1-0 win this time, our heroes having put an awful lot into their midweek jaunt.

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Time for all and sundry to murmur knowingly about “squad depth” again, and opportunity therefore potentially knocks for the likes of Kaboul, Bassong, Jenas, Kranjcar, Gio, Pav and Keane, while beady eyes will presumably need to be cast over the fitness of Gomes and Modders. Saturday also heralds a potential debut for William Gallas, and having already offered my tuppence worth on his signing last week I am now quite curious as to what sort of reception he receives at the Lane.

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Alas, I will need to be informed of this and all other developments via furtive text messages while I nod and smile appropriately in church, as AANP is donning its suit to head to a wedding this weekend. Do keep me posted won’t you?

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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.

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Spurs – Young Boys Preview: A Glory Glory Night At The Lane?

Audere est Facere? Tonight it’s Aut Vincere Aut Mori – kill or be killed. Do or die. Damn well strain every sinew on pitch, while we scream ourselves hoarse in the stands, and keep it going until we’re in the Champions League group stages.

 

The rabbit-in-headlights approach of the first leg was vaguely understandable, but as every other game we play these days seems to be the biggest in our recent history, there should be no stage-fright this time. No dodgy surface either. Tonight, instead, we’ve got the pristine White Hart Lane carpet, floodlights, the Champions League theme tune and a 36,000-strong choir singing the slow “Oh when the Spurs…”.

 

For all the time I spent patiently trying to explain the permutations to my female colleagues last week in the aftermath of the first leg, the nub of the matter is that just about any win will do. Admittedly we are the sort of team uniquely capable of winning 4-3 and thereby knocking ourselves out, but broadly speaking victory will suffice. And while the complete disintegration of order, game-plan and sanity in the first 30 minutes last week was a tad difficult to stomach, I’m secretly actually happier knowing that our lot have to go out there and attack, rather than, say, try to protect a one-goal lead for 90 minutes. Remember ye the 5-1 thrashing of l’Arse, when we went into the game facing a 2-1 deficit, psyched ourselves appropriately, scored after 2 minutes and didn’t let up thereafter.

 

’Arry’s seems to have the right idea. Castigated in some quarters for an over-adventurous mentality in the first leg, there is no point in sitting back this time, so his tag-line tonight is the rather exciting “Swarm all over them”. The absence of Modders does not exactly aid the cause, while my admittedly sparse medical knowledge has me querying the wisdom of sanctioning Defoe’s involvement when he is apparently in need of groin surgery. Nevertheless, we should have plenty at our disposal. Ye gods be praised for the return of Ledley at the back, while we look like scoring every time Bale touches the ball, and Pav demonstrated last week the value at this level of a striker with a touch of class, even on an off-day. Add to that the return from injury of Keane and Giovani, the fact that Lennon makes his CL debut and an already promising start to the season from Hudd, and we have ourselves an impressive cast-list. I fret a little that the absence of Modders may mean that Sergeant Wilson starts, but given the need for goals I suspect ‘Arry will look elsewhere – to Kranjcar perhaps, or maybe even Jenas (if it came to it I think I would prefer an immobile Modric to a fully-fit Jenas, but it’s ‘Arry’s call).

 

So how are your nerves? I presume I’m in a minority of approximately one, but in all honesty I’ve rarely felt as confident about a Spurs game. We’ve spent the last 12 months playing some fantastic football, particularly at home: do it again tonight and we will be fine. Admittedly the colour will drain from my face if we go into the final 15 with a 2-1 lead, but things really are set up frightfully well for us. Young Boys had a glorious opportunity to put us out of sight last week and blew it; while it is scarcely conceivable that our mob could play as badly. As mentioned above, even the one goal deficit at kick-off ought to work in our favour, in terms of our mentality.

 

Just the thought of hearing the Champions League theme tune five minutes before kick-off has me in goosebumps. I know it’s almost a legal requirement at this stage to be practically paralytic with nerves, but I can’t wait for this, potentially a real glory glory night at the Lane.

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Stoke – Spurs Preview, Plus William Gallas Musings

After the glamour of Tuesday night’s European jaunt, it’s the seedier side of this Champions League lark today, with our travel-weary heroes heading up north for a fixture that is not quite ideal. Still, if we are to progress in Europe we will need to get used to this business of returning to Premiership fare with a trip to less than entirely salubrious locations.

 

The fall-out from Tuesday suggests that our lot have just returned from Afghanistan rather than Berne. Defoe, Keane, Pav, Modders and Giovani all apparently ended up amongst the bodies strewn across the Astroturf, and as a result the gangly one will plough a lone furrow up top today.The injuries in attack suggest that ‘Arry may now be forced into adopting some variant of 4-5-1, having occasionally dabbled in it in pre-season. I must confess to feeling ever so slightly baffled at the level of apoplexy that adherence to 4-4-2 seems to generate these days. The hip kids apparently play 4-2-3-1, with plenty of it on show during the World Cup, while a 4-3-3 is the modus operandi for the great and good on their Champions League away days. Thus, in the wake of the Young Boys debacle ‘Arry copped a fair amount of flak for loading up with ammo, removing the safety-catches and going out all guns blazing with 4-4-2. However, the 4-4-2 served us remarkably well in the Premiership, notably in the victories over l’Arse and Chelski, as well as away to Man City, and everything seemed tickety-boo last week at home to City too. I can’ t help thinking that the personnel gets overlooked for formation sometimes, but nevertheless, a 4-5-1/4-3-3 beckons this afternoon.

After effectively dropping two points last week, a win would be particularly welcome today, and come the end of the season, if we are to challenge for fourth again, Stoke away is one from which we would really need three points.

Musings On William Gallas Of All People

By the pricking of my thumbs William Gallas this way comes.

Well first things first: on the credit side, the car-crash that was the first half hour against Young Boys suggests that we would benefit from a central defender with the experience to marshal troops, organise bodies and generally steady the ship whenever it stops violently a-rocking. Gallas also ticks off one of the criteria on AANP’s pre-season wish-list, for an older head to come into the squad and provide a spot of off-the-pitch guidance as well as on-pitch nous, à la Naybet and Davids in years gone by. Moreover, Gallas knows the ins and outs of the English game as well as any defender around.

However, to put it rather euphemistically, the signing has been granted with full-blown wariness at AANP Towers. The blighter has something of a history of upsetting his colleagues and lobbing his toys from the pram, so it remains to be seen quite how positive an influence he has on the squad. As well as this, when we secured fourth at the end of last season, and rubbed our hands in Champions League-inspired glee, Gallas’ was not amongst the list of stellar names anyone had in mind for our summer shopping.

Moreover, I suspect I’m not alone in feeling downright unclean at the prospect of pilfering someone from that ‘orrible lot down the road. I’ve spent much of my adult life loathing William Gallas, and occasionally even expressing the sentiment through the medium of words. From now on I suppose he will receive some polite encouragement from this quarter I suppose, but with the illogical approach fairly unique to a football fan I just don’t like the idea of buying a player from our rivals. If ‘Arry wanted an experienced centre-back to shore things up, I would have thought there were others around to whom he could have turned. Off the top of my head, for example, that Mexican lad Marquez went from Barca to the MLS this summer (I think, may be wrong). He may not necessarily be the chap for us, but just as an example it suggests that there are other players of the required ilk out there, and if ‘Arry, Joe Jordan and chums had banged their heads together for a couple of hours, they’d have sore heads and quite possibly a list of likely candidates, without having to resort to shopping at the Emirates.

Still, every time I have doubted ‘Arry (from the comfort of my armchair) he has proved me wrong, so I’ll back him on this one too. Through gritted teeth I proclaim: William Gallas, AANP Towers welcomes thee to White Hart Lane.

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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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Randomonium Spurs news

Tottenham Hotspur 2009-10: The All Action No Plot Awards

Something for your withdrawal symptoms if, like yours truly, you have such a Tottenham-shaped hole in your life that you now spend the first half hour of your working day actually working, rather than trawling the interweb for morsels of Spurs news. Before season 2009/10 becomes but a sepia-tinged memory sending good vibrations through your very core, it is only right and proper that the second AANP End of Season Awards are dished out.Dear Mr Levy, at Jimmy G2’s abode and at the ever-entertaining Who Framed Ruel Fox? – but please do now pour yourself a good bourbon, stick some Julie London on the gramophone and ask a kindly neighbour to perform a suitably dramatic drumroll…

The Storm From X-Men Award For The Most Pointless Superpower in Christendom 

The Play-Off-Chap-Who-Chipped-It Award For Most Mental Penalty Of The Season 

On top of all that, ill-fortune also befalls our lot when penalties are awarded our way. Defoe has had several saved, and the Hudd broke the habit of a lifetime when opting to place his shot rather than leather it, in his penalty against Bolton. However, amidst the blitz of spot-kicks this season, the one stands out is Robbie Keane’s against Everton – an effort initially saved by Tim Howard, prompting a melee more akin to playground football, as Messrs Bale and Bentley went charging in for the rebounds, and Howard produced about six separate parries before Keane eventually slammed the ruddy thing in. Truly, ‘twas all-action-no-plot, in penalty form.

The David Bentley Award For The Best Speculative Punt Against l’Arse 

The Bacary Sagna’s Hair Award For Fashion Faux Pas of The Season 

The Clegg-Cameron Award For Unlikely Partnership Of The Season 

 

The Saving Private Ryan Award For The Most Mental, 30 Minute, All-Action-No-Plot Sequence Of The Season 

While there was an astonishing all-action 30 seconds or so late on in the season, at home to Pompey (when Thudd almost snapped the woodwork in two, Crouch volleyed the rebound against the very same spot, and then tried an overhead kick from the resulting corner), the most astonishing half hour of this – and quite possibly any – season, was in the second half at home to Wigan. Jermain Defoe donned his Midas suit, and Niko Kranjcar responded to our last-minute please for “One more, we only want one more”, as a little bit of history unfolded at the Lane.The Et Tu Brute? Award For Attacking Your Own Team-Mate 

The “Sod It – Who Else Wants A Go?” Award For Most Popular Position Of The Season 

The Geoff Hurst Award For Hat-Trick of the Season 

The Teddy Sheringham Award For Moving Exceptionally Slowly For A Professional Athlete 

The Klinsmann-Dive Award For Celebration Of The Season 

 

 

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