Tag: Man Utd

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Spurs 1-3 Man Utd: Tardy Musings on Proximity Minus Cigars

Apologies for the tardiness…

Speculating about what might have happened had Parker, Bale and/or VDV been fit is the very living, breathing embodiment of pointlessness (although it has not stopped yours truly moping on a near-daily basis about what might have been had Gazza tapped in against the Germans in Euro 96), but for the purposes of perspective following our SECOND CONSECUTIVE DEFEAT (gasp) it might be salutary to note that with the aforementioned gentlemen on board our lot probably would have prevailed. Having effected a mighty convincing impression of being the superior team in general, the addition of any of those three might also have impacted upon some of the crucial specifics of proceedings. Par example, ‘tis hard to imagine Parker or even Bale switching off to fiddle with their hair as Modders did for the second goal, while Parker again might have made a difference when Kaboul backed off for the third. Moreover, all our possession and dominance could feasibly have translated into something infinitely more satisfying than swooshy Sky Sports graphics had Bale or VDV been gambolling across the turf. Desperately frustrating to have to play a game of this magnitude missing such key personnel, but with human cloning technology still liable to misfire we simply have to accept such absences.

The Reshuffled Pack

Such is Parker’s unadulterated magnificence that it literally takes two men to replace him, but Sandro and Livermore performed admirably. Alas, this reshuffling meant that Modric’s myriad talents were not fully exploited, as he struggled to make sense of a job description loosely pertaining to activity on the left, but we nevertheless displayed various shades of wholesome attacking brio. Lennon’s final ball, as ever, lacks a certain refinement, but all the preceding scuttling tends to prompt the ringing of alarm bells and panicked swinging of legs amongst opposition ranks. With Adebayor and Saha again doing plenty to keep United occupied, at the apex of an old-fashioned 4-4-2, we were jolly close to hammering home our advantage.

However, the rather cruel lesson from all of this was that against the elite there is precious little margin for error. By somehow hanging on through the use of assorted fingernails and teethskins, and then taking advantage of the slightest lilywhite lapses, United fairly pointedly illustrated to our heroes what needs to be done to take the next step, from majestic Top Four glory-blazers to actual ruddy champions. The very best teams tend to do eke out such outcomes, having spent all game scrambling to survive. As the resident agriculturalists of AANP Towers have pointed out, thus is the wheat separated from the chaff.

That Cursed Horrible Wench, Lady Luck

That said, the gentlest soupcon of luck would not go amiss just once in a while for our lot. He being Adebayor and they being United it was thoroughly unsurprising that our first half “goal” was disallowed, but in a more lenient mood the ref may have noted that there was precious little means of avoiding a handling of the ball at full speed. (That said, had it been the other way round the howls of protest from AANP Towers would have lingered long in the air). Further ill luck was the decision by United’s part-time clown and resident 8 year-old goalkeeper De Gea to punctuate his season of general amateurishness with an absolutely blinding save from Livermore’s deflected shot in the second half. And while I’m having a whinge, how the dickens did a standard, fairy harmless foul by Sandro earn him a yellow card?

General grumpiness therefore pervades the air around these parts, but this whole sequence of frustrations ought not to derail the third-place push. Our football remains perky, we have outstanding players due to return and our remaining fixtures appear thoroughly winnable each and every one.

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Spurs – Man Utd Preview: Over-Reaction Overload

A brief perusal of the comments section beneath in the aftermath of the l’Arse defeat rather gave the impression that our heroes are about to nose-dive to the oblivion of the Championship and beyond. Excuse me while I take cover in the battered old AANP bomb shelter, in anticipation of the apocalyptic levels of anguish, vitriol and over-reaction that will rain down if we take a beating from the current Premiership champions on Sunday.

Ahead of Sunday’s game, the principal conundrum here at AANP Towers is where to wager my weekly tuppence. The current lilywhite vintage have looked mighty darned snappy against all and sundry at the Lane this season, with thrashings dutifully distributed to Liverpool and Newcastle, and a pleasing array of other scalps that includes the ‘orrible lot from down the road. However, our labours against the rotters of Chelski rather hurt my eyes, and in general our traditional swash-and-buckle approach has been stymied somewhat by the Champions League-chasers, albeit typically away from home. Excuse therefore the brief lapse into rocket-science, but this home game against Man Utd could potentially go either way…

Alas, we will all simply have to cherish the memory of Scott Parker getting crunched by two Dutchmen and landing groin-first on a camera tripod during the England game last night, for his woefully-timed one-game suspension means that we will have to do without his generous input of heart, soul, sinew and every last drop of blood. No pressure on Sandro/Livermore then.

The Saha-Adebayor partnership has so far wobbled rather dramatically between wondrous and appalling, having sparked the rout of Newcastle at home, and prompted an ugly descent into deep defending and long-ballery last week. Time for ‘Arry to show the world he really knows his 4-4-2s from his 4-2-3-1s, what? Parker aside our heroes ought to be well primed and ready for battle. A difficult one to call frankly, both sides looking notably fallible. Fingers crossed for a lilywhite outcome.

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Spurs match reports

Man Utd 3-0 Spurs: Well Worth The Wait

My, this is embarrassing. We wait three months – plus those tortuous extra 9 days – for our season to begin, then promptly find ourselves nestled amongst the bottom one teams in the table after being torn apart by a bunch of blasted kids. Thank heavens for the fixture-list and its remaining 37 entries.After studying numerous repeats of last night’s game in infra-red and from all manner of camera angles the crack team of football connoisseurs at AANP Towers have concluded that Man Utd are a bit better than Hearts. This was particularly evident in central midfield, rather inevitably.  Poor old Livermore fought the good fight pretty well, but could hardly be said to have grabbed the game by the scruff of the neck and given it a ruddy good talking to. Once United stepped up a gear, midway through the second half, they blew us away, those damn red-clad whippersnappers haring all over the place – around us, over us, beneath us, through our legs and from all angles until it was left to Friedel to do his damnedest while they queued up and peppered his goal. “They’re coming out of the walls man, they’re coming out of the goddamn walls”, Friedel would have been forgiven for musing.

Alas, instead of Sigourney Weaver with a double flame-thrower, our midfield was patrolled by Niko Kranjcar. In recent weeks here at AANP Towers I have been doing my best to ignore the Modric tommyrot and instead been bleating on about the virtues of our other Croatian midfielder. Cue a Kranjcar performance that began modestly, with a healthy percentage of misplaced passes, and gradually saw him descend into anonymity. One esteemed Croatian acquaintance of mine today opined that Kranjcar will one day fall asleep on the pitch; a little cruel perhaps, but well as some jolly lazy distribution (he was not alone in committing this particular misdemeanour) he became slower and slower in the chasing of United shadows, eventually running out of steam completely and spending 10 minutes just standing in the centre-circle panting, alongside the similarly wheezy VDV, before being withdrawn by ‘Arry and placed on a ventilator. Two players of dashed good technique, but if we ever consider sticking the pair of them together again in such close proximity in the centre, it might be worth injecting into their blood-streams some Lucozade, or Coke, or whichever Class A drugs the kids are using these days for their afternoon energy boost.

Elsewhere On The Pitch 

A cracking performance too from Brad Friedel, despite conceding three. The stats may say he is 40 but one glance at his kindly, wizened visage betrays the fact that he is clearly somewhere closer to 70, and like any good grandfather he has a rather comforting presence. His shot-stopping was excellent, and he seemed to gather the odd corner with none of the fuss and bluster of a Gomes.

Lennon’s exasperatingly poor decision-making (you know the one I mean) and Defoe’s rattling of the woodwork could be rued, but we can hardly complain about the outcome. Our heroes need to get their act together sharpish, but there were first half moments – the odd one-touch passing move, the occasional dart from Bale – to suggest that things will improve soon enough.

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Man Utd – Spurs Preview: A Team of Younes Kabouls

Rejoice, all ye fellow lilywhites. Admittedly it is also with a degree of trepidation (Old Trafford will do that to a Spurs fan) but goodness me it is wonderful finally to be able to look forward to Spurs in Premiership action tonight. ‘Tis with delight therefore that I invite you to gather round and peruse with me the permutations of team selection for the evening’s festivities.Goalkeeper 

Right-Back? Kaboul?

BAE at left-back and Daws as half of the centre-back combo pick themselves; thereafter it becomes a bit tricky. Kaboul would be the obvious partner for Daws, given the absences of Gallas and Ledley, but what of right-back? Kyle Walker began against Hearts, but a Europa qualifier is a vastly different kettle of fish from a Premiership game away to the champions. Although I’m not quite sure where he was hiding last Thursday, I suspect that if fit Corluka will get the nod, so we can all enjoy the sight of him waddling along in the puff of smoke that Ashley Young leaves behind. Personally I’d go with Kaboul over any of the others at right-back.

Holding Midfielder? Kaboul?

No doubt ‘Arry, Joe Jordan and chums have been chuckling away to themselves at the irony of the fact that we possibly have more central midfielders in our squad than any other team in the Premiership, yet not a single one is fit for tonight. Ah, the hilarity! Livermore and Kranjcar then, I suppose. However, if ‘Arry wants someone with a bit of snap in central midfield the options are either sticking a jersey on Joe Jordan’s back and shoving him out there, or going with… Kaboul?

No Modders tonight, apparently “his head isn’t right”, which is an excuse I must try with my boss next time I just don’t fancy a day at the office. Still, where there is Bale and Lennon there is hope.

Attack? (Maybe Not Kaboul This Time) 

The Other Lot 

Moreover, United have thrown oodles of cash at a new goalkeeper who at best looks like he’d rather not be the chap hovering between the two big white sticks. De Gea will presumably prove his worth soon enough, but in his two appearances so far this season, as well as looking a few weeks shy of his 14th birthday and committing a crime against facial hair, he has displayed what appears to be a rather untimely allergy to ball. Apparently the lad also conceded a dozen or so goals from outside the area last season – and on a marvellously serendipitous note I read this morning that we scored more than any other team from outside the area last season…

It would be rather stretching the facts a mite to suggest that United are therefore there for the taking, but circumstances might be more favourable tonight than usual. Let the madness begin.

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Spurs 0-0 Man Utd: A Delayed Match Report – And With Good Reason

Apologies for the delay –since the final whistle sounded on Sunday afternoon the denizens of AANP Towers have spent every waking minute traipsing the country searching for anyone – anyone – willing to buy Peter Crouch from us. It does not have to be the chairman of a football team. He could be bought by a British Basketball Association franchise, or shoved into a museum for small children to gawp at. In fact, since the finishing touches are being put to my latest abode, and I now scour the world’s furnishing shops for a tall lamp to stand next to the very sexy black glass shelving unit, I am considering pilfering Crouch myself and shoving him a corner with a candle in his ear. Admittedly it will not undo the entirely vacuous contribution he made against United, but it would probably ensure that ‘Arry buys the striker we’re crying out for, or at least that he next time picks Defoe, or Pav, or even Carlo blinking Cudicini in attack.I perhaps exaggerate the blighter’s ineptitude, but only marginally. The dust has been allowed to settle for several days, yet harking back to the match still fills me with mild apoplexy. If anyone on the pitch looked conspicuously short of Title-challenging quality, ‘twas he. Presumably included on the basis of his ability to tee things up for VDV he was exposed as woefully incapable of offering any sort of aerial challenge to the sinister Vidic, leaving me and several of those around me to wonder whether Defoe might have caused the United back-line more problems nearer ground-level. Crouch was also treated to possibly the clearest goalscoring opportunity of the match but, alas, used the moment to add to the ever-expanding body of evidence that he is anything but a natural goalscorer (or even, to quote the more acid-tongued, a natural footballer). According to the bespectacled, anorak-clad types at Opta Crouch’s pass completion rate was apparently 32%, suggesting an allergy to the ball rather than an ability to hold it up and link play. Damning stuff, when taken in its entirety.

Anyway, if Niall Quinn is wondering why he has had champagne and caviar delivered to him every evening, a gleaming new Lamborghini has turned up in his driveway and several bars of solid gold left on his doormat, all accompanied by notes reading, “With compliments, AANP”, it is because Sunderland are rumoured to have a passing interest in signing Crouch. Egads man, take him! Take him!

Elsewhere On The Pitch

Elsewhere we fared well enough, our heroes having the better of the game without ever really convincing anyone that a goal was imminent. There was imperious stuff from Modders and Daws, and adequate stuff from Sergeant Wilson; while BAE, fast making a career of flitting between sublime and ridiculous, opted for the former, shoving Nani into his rear pocket and keeping him there for the duration, presumably to the incredulity of Alan Hansen. One mildly disappointing aspect was that after the sending-off young Master Bale did not slowly turn to ad hoc right-back Darren Fletcher and give him the blood-curdling grin of a fully-blown psychotic type, before absolutely mutilating him. Fletcher got off rather lightly in those final 15 minutes, for no obvious reason, and a thigh-slappingly good opportunity to barge back into the title race – and, more pertinently, the top four – gently edged away.

Leaps and bounds no doubt, but the progress of the last couple of years is probably not such as to make us title-challengers yet. A couple of well-chosen signings ought to do the trick. On which note…

Pienaar

In all honesty he’s someone I know by hearsay and Match of the Day’s condensed highlights, rather than having scouted vigorously for the last few years. However, although not the rampaging striker for which we yearn, he seems a talented attacking sort, and can apparently play left, right or centre. Moreover, if his arrival shoves Jenas down the pecking order then I will happily lock myself away in a dark for several years while I grow my hair, before braiding it and tattooing “Pienaar 40” across my back. Bolstering the quality of playing personnel as we move into the second half of the season seems a noble practice, and increasing the competition for places ought to give a healthy edge to things. Finally, as a valedictory note I wish to applaud the young man for opting for Spurs over that odious bunch from West London. Bravo sir, may your stay be long and successful.

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Spurs – Manchester United Preview: The Missing Scalp

Our heroes have made a pleasing habit of dispelling various hoodoos in recent months, and the latest to present itself is a ten-year drought against the eleven men of Manchester United and their various assistants in black. Over the last year or so we have torn apart some of the cream of Europe, with United’s the only scalp now missing, and while unbeaten our visitors have looked far from invincible to date this season.Traditionally we tend to use this opportunity to watch Giggs or Scholes run rings around us, but in terms of personnel we can fancy our chances of winning the midfield battle today, for VDV was born for precisely this sort of grand occasion, and Modders is in the form of his life. Moreover, aside from the glamour brought by these chaps, our cause has been bolstered no end by the return of Daws to defence in recent weeks. Was the ever a better set of reasons to rub one’s hands in gleeful anticipation?

‘Arry has been in bullish mood in the press conferences this week, but today’s teamsheet ought to give a clue as to quite how cavalier he intends to be this afternoon. Having stopped and started throughout the season so far Defoe is now back in contention, while Crouch for all his faults has turned into a regular manna-provider for VDV, so our glorious leader must decide between one or t’other. He might even, in the name of the most dreamy form of attacking kamikaze, pick both these two in attack, with VDV shoved into a midfield role somewhere, but one suspects that our approach will be a more conservative 4-4-1-1. The choice of central midfield partner for Modders will also give a hint of ‘Arry’s intentions, Sergeant Wilson representing the more cautious option, Jenas the more adventurous. L

Lose – or even draw – today and the semi-serious title chuntering will have to stop, but our heroes now tend to rise to these big occasions at the Lane.

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Man Utd 2-0 Spurs: In Defence Of Mark Clattenberg

First things first – in the sprit of Mark Clattenberg’s fairly liberal definition of the term “advantage” I thought it apt to mislead the public by using the phrase “In Defence of Mark Clattenberg” when really there is no such thing. Should anyone look towards me for clarification I shall merely shrug, in an exasperating and ever so slightly arrogant manner, which really clarifies nothing for anyone. Play on!The Preceding 83 Minutes

Rather a shame that our lot collectively drifted off for the free-kick that brought about the opening goal, for that aside we traded blows fairly evenly – no mean feat at Old Trafford. Various theories have been bandied around regarding whether the blame lay with Kaboul or BAE, or whether we marked zonally or man-for-man. Whatever the conclusions, this moment, rather than the Clattenberg farce, was the crucial moment.

The Van Der Vaart Conundrum

In the first half in particular Modders and VDV were afforded more space than was entirely wise by the United mob, who came within a post’s width of paying, but life became a darned sight trickier in the second as United tightened up. The disappointing truth is that when we needed to increase our urgency levels we were simply unable to, and while we defended well enough on the whole it is difficult to remember our forward line ever actually penetrating the sacred environs of the United penalty  area. The deployment of VDV in a 4-5-1 certainly gives our midfield a healthy glow, but brings with it the problem of a lack of presence in attack, and it hardly a personal criticism of Robbie Keane to note that he is not the man for a 4-5-1.

Elsewhere On The Pitch

Lennon started fairly brightly, but diligently pinged his final ball straight into the first man in red time and time again, and retreated back into his shell thereafter. Out on the left Bale was shackled fairly effectively, although a frisson of excitement did work its magic on yours truly when the Welsh demi-god went storming forward on his right foot rather than his left, in the second half. If it turns out that the lad is actually two-footed I may just pop from the sheer excitement of it all. The counter-balance to any excitement engendered by Bale is the feeling somewhere in between apathy and rage generated by Jenas, who seemingly deployed in a holding role, was his usual fairly anonymous self.

 

It was of course all overshadowed by the farce of the final few minutes, but for all the incredulity and expletives I would much rather we receive that sort of decision away to Man Utd, in a fixture from which we never really expect much anyway, than from a fixture against rivals for fourth spot.

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Man Utd – Spurs Preview: Doom-Mongers Gather Hither

By nature we are fairly optimistic, cheery sorts here at AANP Towers, but I assure ye that nothing fills ours hearts with pessimistic gloom quite like the prospect of a day out at Old Trafford. By hook, crook or absurd refereeing we always lose at that blasted place, and frankly just the thought of it puts me in a mood sufficiently foul to aim a sharp kick at passing cats and old women. This sentiment is hardly lightened by the thought of Sir Alex Ferguson casting his beady eyes over our prized assets, Messrs Bale and VDV, with a view to a spot of Christmas shopping. As ever pre kick-off there exists at least a glimmer of hope, and come kick-off I suspect I will truly believe; but at the moment I fancy that when the lucky monkey does eventually hammer out Hamlet on his keyboard, Spurs will still be waiting for an Old Trafford victory.

 

Midfield New

 

It appears that there are various midfield permutations over which our glorious leader can twitch tonight. Ankle mischief apparently rules out the Hudd, and it is a measure of his progress that his absence tomorrow is being dolefully lamented around these parts.

 

Eyebrow-arching news from the left wing, with ‘Arry reportedly toying with the notion of resting the boy Bale. Although the impending visit of Inter looms large, Man Utd away nevertheless seems a slightly peculiar choice of fixture on which to grant dispense with the services of our resident pointy-looking superhuman. As such I suspect our glorious leader may have been bluffing when he trotted out this line in the pre-match press conference, the rascal.

 

Attacking Concerns

 

Those of a particularly civilised bent ought probably to cover their ears if our gangly-limbed hero is unleashed in attack, for poor old Peter Crouch has been subjected to some pretty fearsome vitriol over the last seven days, following his less than entirely lethal showing in attack last week. Alas for the rack-stretched blighter, the winner against Man City and hat-trick against Young Boys currently seem a lifetime ago, for he has now become the principal target of our ire.

 

While it must not be overlooked that he continues to provide fodder for VDV in his own awkward way, there was unfortunately much to chastise in his performance last week. Not for the first time his heading was so lacking in power and direction as to suggest that he simply closes his eyes and prays as the ball approaches; while closer to ground level his fiercest shots resembled little more than overhit back-passes. We are hardly drowning in attacking striking options, but opportunity may knock for Pav.

 

For all my finely-tuned pessimism ahead of this one I can at least appreciate that we are actually as well-placed now as we have ever been during our seemingly infinite Old Trafford barren patch. Frankly, this is as strong a Tottenham team as there has been for years, and I am quite happy to predict that we will triumph over Inter on Wednesday. Moreover, while rumours of United’s demise have been exaggerated in various quarters, they are not quite as formidable as in days of yore. A point is therefore quite feasible, but all those fans of chapter 20 (verses 24  to 29) of St John’s gospel can eat their hearts out over here, for until I can put my finger on the TV screen that confirms we have won at Old Trafford I will dolefully refuse to believe it possible.

 

 

 

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Man Utd 3-1 Spurs: ‘Arry’s Team Selection Gets The Hindsight Treatment

Watching a game on a pub’s big screen I typically squint to make out the match clock in the top left-hand corner, a sure sign that my eyes are failing me. My hindsight however, remains 20-20, thus allowing me to tut and cluck all weekend about the wisdom – or lack thereof – of shuffling the winning pack in order to accommodate the returning Sergeant Wilson. Shamelessly glossing over the fact that AANP could not decide beforehand whether the restoration of Palacios would have been a good or bad idea, it is fairly easy to conclude that neither that change nor the shunting of Assou-Ekotto to right-back was a roaring success.BAE – An Odd Fish

I don’t think anyone is quite sure what goes on in BAE’s head, but I get the impression that the little voices generally tell him to do some pretty sinister stuff. As such, I’m vaguely relieved that on Saturday he only went as far as the crude hack that resulted in a penalty, for that glazed expression suggests he might one day try something a darned sight scarier…

It was not his most auspicious day. He offered precious little attacking support for Bentley; and could hardly be described as “watertight” when carrying out his defensive duties. His doings at right-back are not helped by the fact has he has appears never to have been introduced to his own right foot, but whichever his preferred pedal, there was no excusing the recklessness of his penalty area foul.

After the limited success of Walker, Kaboul and now BAE as ad hoc right-backs, the worrying thought occurs to me that ‘Arry might even try Jenas in that position next. Someone slap some deep heat onto Corluka’s injury, and pronto.

Sergeant Wilson’s Off-Day 

However, it is only right to note that maintaining the status quo – of a Hudd-Modders central midfield and Kaboul at right-back – would by no means have guaranteed a better result at Old Trafford. The result indicates that ‘Arry’s gamble failed, but it was an understandable move.

Palacios’ performance may have elicited a few embarrassed coughs, but elsewhere there was better news as familiar faces returned to the fray…

Ledley’s Golden Minute

Our wondrous captain was awesome again, producing one particularly golden minute, midway through the second half. It ended with his headed goal, but began with, of all things, a casual drop of the shoulder on his own six-yard box, to completely wrong-foot Berbatov and shepherd the ball back to safety. I worship the ground upon which Ledley walks, the nightclubs out of which he stumbles and the vacuum in his knee that is bereft of cartilage.

Lennon and Bale – The Time is Nigh

I cannot quite bring myself to worship Aaron Lennon’s shaved eyebrow with similar fervour, but it was jolly good to see it and its owner once again. Lennon did not really have a chance to rev up and disappear past John O’ Shea in a puff of smoke, but his arrival and the subsequent reorganisation in midfield seemed to give the team a better attacking shape. His chums in lilywhite poked and probed for a chance to set him racing away towards the byline; United duly trotted men over to snuff out the threat; so we switched play to the left, for Gareth Bale to have a gallop. Nothing came of it on this occasion, but it was a glimpse of The Land of Milk and Honey. Keep those two fit, and all hell could break loose down the flanks.

Elsewhere On The Pitch 

Whatever the misgivings about the team selection and outcome, this is hardly the time for an over-reaction. Defeat away to Man Utd is far from disastrous, and in fact having somehow got to half-time on level terms, and then dragged it back to one-all with 10 minutes to go, we may well have gone on to pinch all three points.

Six points from l’Arse, Chelski and Man Utd remains a jolly impressive haul, and those two wins may yet prove to be season-defining. The showers at AANP Towers have been working overtime to wash off the general uncleanliness that came with cheering on l’Arse for 90 minutes yesterday, and while my back was turned Villa and Liverpool managed to pop up into view again, but the net result of this weekend is that fourth place is still in our hands. According to the AANP abacus, avoiding defeat to City and winning the other two would do the trick.

 

Gary Mabbutt will be signing copies of AANP book Spurs’ Cult Heroes for the masses atWaterstones Walthamstow – Saturday 8 May, 1pmSpurs’ Cult Heroes

, is now available in the Spurs shop, all good bookshops and online (at Tottenhamhotspur.com, as well as WHSmith, Amazon , Tesco, Waterstones and Play).  

 

You can become a Facebook fan of Spurs’ Cult Heroes and AANP here, follow on Twitter here

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Man Utd – Spurs Preview: Gareth Bale’s New Goal Celebration

Writing off our chances at Old Trafford is something of an annual tradition here at AANP Towers. It was generally a pretty painless arrangement, and one to which I suspect many a long-suffering Spurs fan could relate – I would go into the game with what could at best be described as a spirit of defiant optimism, duly return empty-handed (albeit occasionally with a tale of indignant injustice to relate) and the following week would roll on. A thousand well-judged curses, therefore, upon Spurs’ current form, which leads me to believe that this time, maybe, just maybe, we might… you know.No doubt about our current form. The Wilson-less central midfield of Hudd and Modders has meant that we have ball-players galore for when in possession, while retaining the discipline to sit and protect when not in possession. While all and sundry leapt around and made merry during the l’Arse and Chelski wins, yours truly could be easily identified as the chap earnestly rubbing his eyes in disbelief as we won the midfield battle against two of the best teams in the country, before letting young Bale do his thing.

Decisions, Decisions

Should ‘Arry bring back Sergeant Wilson or resist the temptation to fix that which most definitively ain’t broke? Rather a pleasant conundrum upon which to dwell in the evening sunlight, although I hope our glorious leader realises that if we lose tomorrow his decision to restore/exclude (delete as appropriate) Palacios may well prompt a fresh chorus from the ‘Arry Out brigade, who have recently been kicking their heels in frustration. Either way, the potential option to restore Palacios, King and Lennon has me positively gibbering in glee.

After spending so darned long sorting out a song for the boy Bale, it seems we now have to teach him a thing or two about goal celebrations. A Roger Milla style pelvic wiggle gets my nomination, although after Gary Neville’s rather unsubtle display of affection for Paul Scholes’ efforts last week, I guess it’s possible we might be treated to something more forthright. The clash of Bale against Neville should make for cracking viewing. I vaguely recall Sir Alex Ferguson dealing quite neatly with the threat of Chelski’s overlapping full-backs a couple of years ago by deploying Park and/or Fletcher out wide, so no doubt he will have some similarly dastardly scam lined up for our handsome young Welshman.

Another virtuoso Bale performance, a late cameo from Aaron Lennon, and then an evening spent cheering on that ‘orrible lot from down the road, against Man City? It sounds crazy, but it might just work.

Book Signing in Stevenage Waterstones, Saturday 24th, 12pm

In case you missed that, I’ll change the font and add some detail: None other than

Gary Mabbutt will be signing copies of AANP book Spurs’ Cult Heroes for the masses this Saturday (24th April) at Watestones Stevenage (3 The Forum, Hertford SG1 1ES) from 12 noon. I make that just about enough time to meet the man, grab your book and settle down for the match… 

Spurs’ Cult Heroes, is now available in the Spurs shop, all good bookshops and online (at Tottenhamhotspur.com, as well as WHSmith, Amazon , Tesco, Waterstones and Play). You can become a Facebook fan of Spurs’ Cult Heroes and AANP here, follow on Twitter here