Tag: Roberto de Zerbi

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Spurs match reports

Spurs 0-2 Newcastle: Two Brief & Tardy Tottenham Talking Points

1. Porro on the Right Wing

A line or two before the bank holiday draws to a close.

The great and good at N17 may have lobbed around transfer money like confetti this summer, but somehow we started on Saturday evening with Pedro Porro out on the right wing. I know neither know the workings of RDZ’s mind, nor did I see interviews in which he explained the selection, but I’ll just go ahead and take the liberty of assuming his hand was somewhat forced by the presence of his army of right wingers on the treatment table rather than the training pitch, and so Porro it was out on the right side of attack.

And frankly, I thought it was actually no bad thing. If you’ve dabbled at the AANP drinks cabinet before you’ll be aware that my opinion of Porro as a defender is not sky-high. A World Cup-winning right-back he might be, but I’ll be damned if I remember him blocking more than one cross per season. If you want a chap who can lose track of whatever is happening behind him as a cross is floated in, then Porro, I would suggest is your man; but a watertight custodian at the back he is not.

Porro’s fortes appear very much to emerge once he’s made the pilgrimage over halfway, and more pertinently up towards the opposition area. At that point his eyes light up, the crosses fly in and, if he’s within about 25 yards he’ll line up a pop at goal too. And to generally pretty punchy effect too – he’s not the breed of defender who gets a nosebleed and loses all sense of geography once within shooting range. I rather like Porro in the final third.

Thus did it prove on Saturday. I would venture that in the first half he might have been our most threatening forward. His nifty footwork very nearly brought an opening goal of the ilk that would have attracted a few admiring peers, being prevented only by a full-length diving Newcastle block, and in general his radar was just about on and his crossing good.

Admittedly one surprisingly half-decent outing on the right wing is hardly a reason to propel past Kudus, Savio, Kulusevski et al when (chortle) that lot return to fitness, but as curios go this was one of the more impressive variety.

 2. Probably Not As Bad As We All Think

More broadly, there was a pretty understandable collective grump as well as slunk off to WHL station, but I thought at full-time and continue to think now, this was not of the calamitous standard of recent history.

An unequivocal home loss is undoubtedly shabby work; and coming on the back of the mother of all shopping sprees, the aesthetics, to use frightfully modern parlance, were not great.

Nevertheless, I actually thought that for the majority, and certainly while 0-0, we were probably the better team. Coruscating and irresistible it might not have been, but coming forward we seemed sprightly enough, and chances were made and missed.

The failing, to my weary and untrained eye, seemed primarily to be a distinct lack of awareness of one’s fellow man. Put another way, our lot came across as a bunch of strangers. Throughout the team there was a distinct whiff of chappies who’d not quite memorised the surnames of all those around them.

As I watched Marmoush skip past flailing Geordie legs and van Hecke confidently shepherd and wriggle away from prowling forwards, I was struck by the notion that the money almost has been wisely spent. Individually, these are a jolly talented mob. The evidence of past seasons at previous clubs has not lied.

Frustratingly, none of them seemed really to know the preferences and predilections of their teammates. There were no patterns or combinations. None of that borderline telepathic understanding that is a hallmark of a well-drilled unit. The Corluka-Lennon axis is a favoured example at times like these, of how a couple of teammates could develop an understanding of the other’s game and put it to good use; Kane and Son I suppose were another.

I suspect there is pretty good reason for this lack of intuitive link-up. Half the squad seem to have reported back after the summer break carrying injuries of varying degrees of severity; and another sizeable chunk seem only recently to have returned after the World Cup. They simply haven’t had much time on the training pitch with one another.

As such, depressing though the second half was on Saturday (not to mention the entirety of the game against Brentford) AANP is remarkably unflustered by it all. Allowing for the fact that our heroes’ ability to self-sabotage is unparalleled, I feel a comforting calm at the prospect of things clicking into gear in the coming weeks. Sporadic and a little disconnected it might all have been, but I saw enough individual quality on Saturday to put the old mind at ease. As players gain fitness, and a raft of introductions are carried out at Hotspur Way, I am shoving my chips in the direction of the situation improving markedly.  

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Spurs match reports

Brentford 3-0 Spurs: Four Tottenham Talking Points

1. Some First Half

As the fellow once put it, the only problems were an inability to bat, bowl or field. Put another way, it was not until the 30th minute that we constructed what anyone of sound mind would term a half-decent move that actually got us into the opposition area, by which point we were already 2-0 down.

As lifelong lilywhites we really should have known better, of course. A summer transfer window comfortably beyond wildest dreams it might have been, but we probably ought to have realised that once the whistle blew and the little white orb started pinging around, then the wheels would come off, and by golly they did so in spectacular fashion. 

Our lot only seemed to cotton onto the fact that the match had started after conceding the penalty, at which point we were lucky to be just the three goals down. Prior to that, pretty much to a man they managed to miss just about every tackle and misplace every pass, which even by the dubious standards of our recent history took some doing. 

One didn’t have to look too far for guilty parties. Young Bergvall has established himself as an AANP favourite during his short N17 career, and he will no doubt have vastly more thrilling afternoons in our colours (if he sticks around the place, that is) but by golly, if there was a bad decision to be made yesterday he made it alright. 
Back in that glorious era before we started conceding, Bergvall was putting in a spot of practice in the art of conceding possession in dangerous areas. He tried to slalom past an opponent or two about 5 yards outside our own area, in a manner vastly too casual for such an occasion, and looked suitably stunned when the ball was pinched from his possession and spirited away to trouble. Nothing became of that particular occasion, but he was less fortunate minutes later when possession was snaffled from him again and Brentford tootled off for their celebrations.
 
I’d have preferred to see Bergvall in a position more similar to that bafflingly occupied by Gallagher. High up the pitch, I presume the point of Gallagher in that Number 10 role was to apply the high press. It has a certain logic to it I suppose, but I like my Number 10s to be blessed with a spot of guile – some trickery and stepovers – not the capacity simply to run ad infinitum and sweat profusely. Bergvall’s love of carrying the ball, it struck me, might have worked out more successfully had he done so from north of the halfway line, rather than just outside his own area. 

Not that the first half mess was the fault of Bergvall and Gallagher alone, even if they were lambs sacrificed on the altar of half-time. Every cast member, major and minor, was stuffing up their lines; these things just looked rather worse when the blighter in question had just cost £100m. 

2. Kinsky

Having delighted in the departure of Vicario, and the promotion of young Kinsky, it was a somewhat red-faced AANP who observed as the latter made a solid pig’s ear of things for that second goal. 

Admittedly I pontificate from a position of minimal goalkeeping experience, but even so. Simply batting the ball straight into the path of the nearest onrushing attacker did not strike me as one from the textbook.

Moreover, the young nib did the hard work of bouncing straight back up, as per all those countless drills one sees pre-match and in training and whatnot; but then simply stood and watched as the rebound was rolled past him. Forsooth. It summoned up the very worst of Hugo Lloris, and did little for the AANP mood. 

As with Bergvall, young Master Kinsky will no doubt have numerous fine occasions to relate to his grandchildren in years to come, but when the chap does bungle them he does so pretty spectacularly, what?

3. Gray as Captain

Now the main point about the choice of captain should of course be that it makes not the slightest jot of difference to things. One really ought not to need one specific chappie to have an armband on his bicep; the whole dashed gang ought to be vocal and responsible and whatever else. 

However, if one takes the view that a team is built in the image of its captain, then the good ship lilywhite was in trouble right from the centre circle preliminaries yesterday. Archie Gray strikes me as the sort one wouldn’t mind one’s daughter inviting over for Sunday lunch, he seeming a pleasant, clean-living sort. When it comes to wearing the armband for Spurs however, I want my captains to be the species of man who sweats blood and staggers on come hell or high water. Archie Gray, for all his merits, looks rather like he might burst into tears if he finds he’s forgotten bring his lunchbox along for the day. 

There is a wider context to this. Bafflingly, Our Glorious Leader selected no fewer than five captains, pre-match. While not exactly De Zerbi’s first mis-step, this did strike me as one of the more pointless gambits of the his tenure. Might as well tell all eleven that they’re captains, what? 

Anyway, select five captains he did, and this being Spurs the first four were all injured. Rudimentary maths therefore dictated that Archie Gray take the honour, but I spent a goodish amount of time chuntering that it ought to have been Andy Robertson. 

When he signed, a month or two back, I was absolutely delighted. Here was a chap, famed for chewing glass and taking all-comers with his bare hands, arrived to toughen up our notoriously feeble and brittle band of toothless kittens. I’d have thought the first job of those in the corridors of power would have been to slap a captain’s armband on him and tell him, “Ho for the hills.”

Make no mistake, while still vaguely capable, Robertson is past his pomp. He was signed as much for the attitude he instils as for any playing ability that can still be eked from his frame. So when the principals were absent, the decision to make Archie Gray the standard bearer, and elbow Robertson off into the shadows, struck me as a tad rummy. Put another way, I know who I’d have preferred screaming his Henry V in my ear pre-match. 

4. Silver Linings

On the bright side, once 3-0-and-a-post down, our lot bucked up somewhat. 

I was quite taken by the boy Senesi, in the second half at least. He struck me as what Romero might have been, had he been possessed of even half an ounce of sense in that vacant skull of his. Senesi seemed aggressive without been an absolute dolt. A tough sort of cookie, but not the T.S.O.C. who thought he had to clatter someone abaft the knees in order to prove the point. 

Pleasingly, I also noted that van Hecke did not shirk the opportunity to take a hearty boot flush in the face, in the midst of the first half collapse. As a pair they did, understandably, come across as strangers acquainted for the first time; but as individuals, each seems a chap well versed in the art of centre backery. 

Also in the debit column, Matheus Fernandes was pretty neat and tidy. Which is not saying much, but having witnessed Bergvall gift away possession like it was a competition, and Tonali doing his best to convince us all it’s an elaborate ruse involving a pub-team doppelganger, I took what small wins I could, and Fernandes’ performance was one of them. 

I’d like to say that Tel had his moments in the second half; but in truth the underwhelming probably outweighed the half-decent from him. There wasn’t much to brighten the soul, the sounding of the final whistle probably constituting the only real highlight. 
All that said, however, after one or two games last season we had beaten the champions, were near enough at the top of the table and that Reijnders fellow was being feted far and wide as the best midfielder ever. The point being that the opening weeks of the season are mysterious times that can make us do daft things. Let’s see how we fare in the coming weeks, before we commit ourselves to 17th again. 

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Spurs match reports

Villa 1-2 Spurs: Four Tottenham Talking Points

1. Gift-Horses

Decency probably dictates that we rattle off an acknowledgement or two before getting down to the serious business of backslaps and charged glasses, for to suggest that Villa were a tad undercooked rather understates affairs.

AANP has never really gone if for animals, some pet gerbils (Gazza and Ledley, since you ask) being the extent of the menagerie at AANP Towers, but I understand that when it comes to gift-horses, the key rule for a healthy and comfortable life is not look these equine delights in the mouth. In layman’s terms, as I understand it, this essentially means that if Aston Villa toddle out onto the pitch looking to a man like they’d rather be elsewhere – specifically playing a European semi-final instead – then you don’t stand on ceremony but show them what for, and lickety-split.

If a neutral onlooker were to remark sniffily that this isn’t really cricket, and that had the fixture been arrange for a few months or even weeks earlier it would have been a vastly different-looking Villa fastening their helmets – well, in truth I’d have agreed. A quirk of the calendar I might have said, before doing a poor job of expressing sympathy for West Ham, who seem to have emerged from all this as the real losers.

So no doubt about it, we were handed a thick and meaty slice of luck regarding the timing of this particular joust. However, luck of one form or another (injuries, VAR calls) has been in short supply all season, so if there were a tally kept of such things we’d probably have been due some by now; and once the gift-horse is led your way you ought to do all in your power to capitalise. Pleasingly, our heroes did exactly that.

2. Gallagher

I must confess that the heart did not exactly leap a few months back when news broke of the arrival of C. Gallagher Esquire at N17.  He’ll rack up the steps, went the AANP line of thought, but he’s not exactly the creative spark to ignite our season.

And it was with a similarly underwhelmed roll of the eyes that I greeted the teamsheet yesterday, and its accompanying news that CG would be occupying the much-vaunted Number 10 role. Where such luminaries as Hoddle, Van der Vaart and Maddison had gone before, I could not quite envisage Gallagher twinkle-toeing through dangerous areas last night. Just the man if you want a bucket of sweat exuded, but perhaps not quite the chappie you’d call upon for defence-splitting passes and creative ingenuity, was the gist of it.

It turned out, however, that the whole point of the Gallagher As A Number 10 gambit was precisely the bucket-of-sweat element. It was a plot-twist up there with Keyser Soze reveal. Gallagher wasn’t deployed as a Number 10 in order to create a bally thing – his whole purpose was to be front and centre of the high press.

Lest there be any doubt about how well this quirky take on an old classic might work, within the opening 5 minutes our lot had already pilfered possession from our dozy opponents high up the pitch on three or four occasions, producing a decent threat and generally giving an indication of things to come. Gallagher, naturally, was at the heart of it, tearing around the joint like a puppy newly released into a park. Christmas had evidently come early for the chap, was not just allowed to go sliding into man-ball-the-lot tackles but was positively encouraged to do so.  With a supporting cast including such shrinking violets as Richarlison and Joao Palhinha, this tactic struck a ripe old harvest from the off.

And just to seal the deal, Gallagher then threw in one of the best first touches of 2026 to pluck the ball out of the atmosphere, sending the nearest Villa soul into a different postcode and setting himself neatly for a shot all in the same seamless motion. In truth, I thought the shot he then unfurled was a few rungs down from “Sweetest Contact Ever”, but the Villa ‘keeper seemed to have received the team memo and made but a token motion towards the ball, and Gallagher had his goal.

3. Kolo Muani and Tel

The lilywhite career trajectories of Messrs K-M and T have differed slightly, at least in the eyes of AANP. I’ve long considered Kolo Muani one of the more naturally talented of the current crop, but sadly lacking in the Can Be Bothered department.

Yesterday, and not a moment too soon, he seemed to burst at the seams with vim and enthusiasm, delivering possibly his best performance in our colours so far. Admittedly the competition in this area is light, that two-goal salvo against PSG probably his only other half-decent showing, but still. One cycles back to animal care and that gag about gift-horses. If Kolo Muani suddenly decides he’ll spend his evening stringing along a Villa defender, we probably ought just to get behind him and say “Ho for the byline”.

Out on t’other flank young Master Tel beavered away with that customary youthful exuberance of his. There was a time, not 12 months ago, when I would bleat away to anyway who’d listen, that Tel’s loan-to-buy option ought not to be exercised, on the grounds that he was neither one thing nor another. A central striker he most certainly was not, being deficient in the stakes of heft, hold-up and finishing; whilst he hadn’t done a great deal to indicate that he was any better out wide than the countless wingers of recent years who delivered one match-winning performance in 10 or 20 – Moura, Lamela, Chadli et al.  

And with no goals in his last 17 matches, one might credibly argue that Tel still has not exactly made himself undroppable as a wide man. However, the next best thing to actually winning games through goals scored and created, is probably to give the opposition defenders a bit of a headache, and this Tel increasingly seems to do. He does not need too many invitations to get his head down, whirl his legs and try to beat his man out on the left. Sometimes he fails, but increasingly often he succeeds. Yesterday, each time he received the ball over halfway, I don’t mind admitting that the AANP pulse quickened.

By and large his end-product was a bit squiffy, his catalogue featuring a few wild efforts that went off into orbit, but the cross he delivered for Richarlison’s goal was dripping in quality, so the chap certainly earned his congratulatory nod.

4. De Zerbi

Just about all in lilywhite-tinted yellow emerged with credit yesterday, but perhaps precisely because of that I reserve the smartest salute for our latest Glorious Leader. Quite why it’s been so difficult for any of the previous GLs to get a tune out of our players is a dissertation for a different day, but no doubt about it, RDZ has performed a spot of alchemy in the last two or three weeks.

Mercifully the Villa consolation came too late for a true test of nerve to be unleashed upon our lot, so it remains to be seen quite how tough the underbelly will be when things go wrong; but the attitude and organisation yesterday was spot on. As well as the Gallagher-led high-press from the off, and bundles of energy on display throughout, I was also struck by the fact that there was a clear plan and that all involved seemed to know exactly what they were supposed to be doing.

Admittedly this ought not really to be front-page news, but having watched a whole season of our heroes treating one another like complete strangers and displaying precious little understanding of a game-plan, yesterday’s fare was manna from heaven.

Quite what De Zerbi has been saying to them behind closed doors is anyone’s guess, but he seems to have motivated them. With a bit of luck, that will suffice for natural talent to do its thing over the next three assignments.