1. The First Half
One might say there was something for everyone yesterday. For lovers of Angeball there was a first half, and particularly a first half hour, in which all involved absolutely purred about the place; for those who can’t stand the chap there was a capitulation that even by our lofty standards was a bit of a corker.
The first half couldn’t have been much brighter and breezier, with slick, one-touch combinations all over the pitch. Moreover, each of the assembled cast members were beginning to give the impression of knowing precisely what, where and when the chap next to him would do. If Porro were passing infield to Kulusevski, for example, Johnson did not need any further prodding, and was already haring off down the wing, in full expectation of the ball being pinged first-time into his path before the nearest Brighton sort had worked out what direction he ought to be facing. Benefits, one assumes, of fielding a relatively settled eleven.
Nor were these little link-ups being executed just to look pretty. They were moves with a specific purpose. Within about two or three passes one of the front-five were generally speeding off into the Brighton penalty area and clearing the stage for a pop at goal, and such was the routine in that first half that just about every time we took possession of the thing one felt that the culmination of the sequence would be some manner of attempt lasering in towards the Brighton net.
While it was very much a collective effort, I found myself drawn to the notion that Kulusevski is possibly the key component in an on-song Spurs, at least when whipping up a head of steam from deep. His energy and directness seem to instil a certain nervousness in opposing sorts, all the more so when given the freedom to advance centrally rather than having his movements slightly curtailed out on the wing (although his combinations with Johnson and Porro on the right were nevertheless effective).
A gentle ripple of applause too for Solanke for his contribution to both goals. There were many pairs of hands involved in both, of course – and for the second in particular I think the fingerprints of a good half-dozen could be detected – but AANP is a particular fan of a well-weighted pass inside a full-back, which turns him around and allows an onrushing colleague to arrive from deep at a rate of knots and collect in his stride. Solanke had a bit of a knack for the things in that first half, timing to perfection the pass for Johnson’s opener, and then playing in Werner in the build-up for the second.
I was also pleasantly surprised to see Maddison popping up in advanced positions – at times the furthest forward, in fact – given that, with Kulusevski alongside him, he has previously seemed happy enough sit five yards deeper. On more than one occasion in those early stages he rather stealthily wormed his way forward unnoticed, before ripping off his mask to reveal his identity only once well inside the Brighton area and with a sight of goal.
Another notable feature of the first half was the alacrity with which our lot swarmed over Brighton whenever they gained possession inside their own half, Spurs players to a man giving the impression that they had little time for such interruptions and wanted to revert to relentless attack at the earliest opportunity.
All in all, it was the sort of fare on which we have dined pretty regularly this season, augmented, in a pleasing break from the past, by no fewer than two of the chances actually being taken. While several others were spurned, I did beetle off for the half-time snootful with a pretty satisfied exhalation. A fairly pleasing opening stab, was about the gist of it, at least in an attacking sense, and while our lot are always susceptible when in reverse, there seemed no reason to suspect the attacking free-for-all would let up.
2. Werner’s End-Product (and a Word on Mikey Moore)
Before getting down to the grisly details, a pause to sink the head into the hands and muffle a few unrepeatables, as I reflect on the latest misadventures of poor old Timo Werner.
Nothing about him surprises us any more, of course. His is a movie we’ve all watched a few times now. Plenty of willing was on show, as ever, and, taken in isolation, that burst of pace ought to be worth its weight in gold. Not for the first time he appeared to have his opposing full-back at his mercy, being possessed of a far cleaner pair of heels. Werner needed only really to nudge the ball a few yards past the full-back and that particular part of the mission was as good as done. There was no catching him. It might as well have been an unguarded doorway.
Oh, that simply outpacing his man were all that were required, eh? If Werner could simply have beaten his man to the ball, raced to the by-line and then triumphantly put his foot on the ball and waved a colourful flag, we’d be throwing garlands around his neck.
Alas, there typically follows the delicate issue of an end-product, and here, as ever Werner tended to fudge things. The tone was set in the opening fifteen seconds, when Werner absolutely zipped away into space behind the Brighton defence (courtesy of another of those delicious passes between defenders from Solanke), and looked up to see young Brennan Johnson galloping in synchronicity, ten yards to his right.
Not much additional work was needed, the sum of it requiring that one international footballer pass straightforwardly to another, the path from A to B uncluttered by any third parties. This being Werner, however, he rather pickled the operation by delivering that final pass with far more oomph than the situation required, and the moment concluded down by the corner flag rather than in the back of the net.
This was probably the nadir, but thereafter every time Werner attempted similarly to cross to a suitable body in the area, he failed to hit the mark, most typically banging the ball straight into the nearest Brighton limb. Dashed frustrating stuff, given the ease with which he was able to scuttle past his defender in order to create the opportunity in the first place, but such is the package he provides.
To his credit, he did start to work out that crossing into the centre was beyond his capability, and opt instead on several occasions to play a shorter pass, of four or five yards. This proved vastly more effective, not least as it meant we retained possession in a dangerous area and someone slightly more qualified – by which I mean literally anyone else – was then tasked with picking the critical final pass. Maddison’s goal was created in this way, so it certainly had its benefits, it just seemed rather a waste of all that initial good work Werner would do in getting himself into a crossing position.
As ever, there were increasingly furious yowls from the assorted observers, with each Werner mishap, demanding that Mikey Moore be utilised instead. I would caution against this myself, the young egg’s brief cameo seeming to illustrate that at present all the talent in the world is somewhat on pause, as he is currently too lightweight for this sort of thing. Every time he tried to take on a man or two he was fairly straightforwardly buffeted out of the picture. His value may be greater when we lead and can counter, running into space, perhaps, than when he needs to flex the upper-body sinews and take on a waiting defender.
3. Defenders Who Can’t Defend
Concerns about Timo Werner, however, are a mere bagatelle when contrasted with the broader second half performance.
Going forward we showed far less of that first half potency, for reasons that can only be speculated upon. The intense, high press of the first half was wiped from the memory, with only Solanke really playing the game after the break, and while we still did look to create, notably on the right, there was nowhere near the same threat.
But vastly more disturbing was what was transpiring at the back. One understands that the whole Angeball apparatus lends itself to an often calamitous susceptibility at the rear. One hardly revels in the fact, but one understands it. If every man and his dog are going to attack, one rather anticipates that gaps will appear at the back.
What is a lot harder to stomach is when the opposition scythe right through the heart of our defence when all four of them are in position and in a neat line, aided by Bentancur and whomever else is nearby, and seemingly not having been under any imminent threat at all. For it is a pretty verifiable fact that Brighton did not have to work particularly hard to carve us open and shoot from the centre of the goal. Not unless one’s idea of hard work is to saunter unopposed through a front door.
The litany of individual mistakes makes for pretty gruesome recollection, to the extent that one barely knows where to start, but for the sake of a bit of order I’ll go through this geographically, right to left.
3.1 Porro
He may have escaped censure on the day, given the more obvious blooters from Udogie and whatnot, but Pedro Porro needs to dashed well pull up his socks and sort out his ideas. Simply being in the vicinity and running in the right direction are not sufficient. If Werner only had to outpace his opposing right-back to be free of him, then whomever was on Brighton’s left wing (typically Mitoma) did not even need to do that much. They merely needed to look up and kick the blasted thing, because as sure as night follows day, Porro was going to allow the cross to be made.
There was a warning sign in the first half, when Mitoma curled the ball into the area for Welbeck to pop wide, and it continued with Brighton’s first two goals, shortly after half-time. Watch the footage back and Porro can be spotted in the vicinity and appearing to chase back diligently enough – but, as with that first half cross, the blighter does nothing even to attempt to prevent the ball being knocked past him and into the centre. There’s not much point in there being a right-back on the pitch if he’s not going to make the slightest attempt to stop the opposition left winger, but Porro didn’t even outstretch a leg.
Similarly for the second goal, Porro ambles out towards Estupinian and in the blink of an eye the ball is played inside him, taking him out of the game. While Brighton did have an overload there, Porro might still have stationed himself somewhere that made the pass at least a mite more difficult, but instead Brighton simply hopped around him and cracked on.
3.2 Romero
If Porro can be chided for failing to prevent crosses, there ought to have been a safety net of sorts alongside him in the shape of Romero, but so far this season he has seemed to sleepwalk around the pitch with zero awareness, and seemingly not much interest, in what is happening around him.
As mentioned, the Mitoma cross in the first half found Welbeck unmarked from six yards out, and this represented an astonishing dereliction of duty from Romero. The genesis of this was no desperate sprint back from halfway either – Romero had all the time in the world to spot Welbeck and keep tabs on him, but simply dozed off while jogging back, lost sight of him completely and was mightily lucky that he missed the target when it was easier to score.
Then for the second Brighton goal, once the ball had been played inside Porro to Mitoma, Romero went out to meet him, but his attempted tackle exemplified much that was wrong with our defending. Frankly the very term ‘attempted tackle’ is pretty wildly misleading, because it was that in name only, consisting of Romero dangling a half-hearted leg at Mitoma with the air of a man who thinks there are plenty of others around who can put an end to the danger should the need arise. One hardly calls for Romero to crunch him at the knee, but he could certainly have applied himself more fervently to blocking the man’s path and forcing him to look elsewhere.
And then for the third, Romero was back to his absent-minded self, rocking on his heels and simply watching on as the ball looped up for Welbeck to head in. In the last week or two I have lauded Dominic Solanke for anticipating a rebound well in advance, setting off at the merest sniff of an opportunity. In Romero we saw the polar opposite, a man utterly oblivious to the threat of danger, even within his own six-yard box.
Romero is mightily impressive in possession, demonstrating at various points yesterday and in recent weeks his eye for a natty, threaded pass in midfield that bisects the opposing press – but first and foremost the man is a defender, dash it. Above all else he ought to be defending. In common with those around him, he seems far more attuned to life when on the attack than when keeping at bay the other mob.
3.3 Van de Ven
No doubt about it, VDV’s pace is a blessing like few others, particularly when deployed within the Angeball high line. If a foot-race to the ball is in order, to snuff out a looming threat, VDV is your man; and indeed, he has a rather pleasingly no-nonsense approach to covering the left-back position too, regularly seen to rush over and put in a slide-challenge that deposits the ball out of play and allows everyone else to man their stations.
Yet in terms of the basics of one-on-one defending, such as making a tackle or simply preventing an opponent from skipping gaily past to t’other side, VDV is alarmingly susceptible. Standing one’s ground and forcing an opponent to take a roundabout route to goal ought not to be the complex operation that VDV has turned it into.
Again, for that second Brighton goal, VDV was turned inside out far too easily, and on various other occasions in the second half in particular, he seemed to be beaten with minimal effort. If sides play some scintillating football that tears the defence to shreds, one can bow an accepting head, but Brighton really did not have to work particularly hard to bypass VDV – or those around him.
3.4 Udogie
Rather more conspicuously, Udogie made quite the pig’s ear of his clearance for the first goal, but in a way I am more inclined to absolve this. That was a lapse in concentration that might have happened anywhere on the pitch; more concerning is when he has to carry out basic operations when up against an opponent, and is beaten with the same ease with which I skip past my youthful nephews out in the park.
The third Brighton goal being a case in point (a move preceded, by the way, by Udogie needlessly running the ball out of play instead of clearing up the line). The Brighton chappie posed no threat with back to goal and few options available, and for clarification was not Pele either. Yet Udogie allowed him wriggle past him with the sort of perfunctory challenge that Romero had been showcasing earlier, a slackness that cost us a goal.
As can certainly also be said for Porro and Romero, and to an extent is true of VDV, Udogie seems vastly to prefer life when charging forward. And he does a marvellous job of it too, which is lovely in its own wy – but that’s not the point of a left-back! Our four defenders seem not to grasp the basics of defending. As mentioned above, it’s challenging enough when they’re all racing back from halfway and stretched in all directions, but yesterday they showcased that even when all organised and in position, they are simply such bad defenders that opponents can, with a few carefully-selected steps, waltz straight through the heart of them.
