Tag: Wilson Odobert

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Spurs match reports

Spurs 2-2 Wolves: Four Tottenham Talking Points

AANP’s new book ‘All Action No Plot: Postecoglou’s First Season’, is out now for just £7.99 from Amazon (ebook from £6.99)

1. A Return to Older Ways

There was something vaguely nostalgic about seeing our lot have the better of things throughout, gum up multiple opportunities and then let the opposition snatch a point in fairly routine fashion. Not that it made things any more palatable, but the scene that played out was certainly a familiar one.

In decades to come, the nation’s great orators might paint this as one of those larks dominated start to finish by the mob in lilywhite; the truth, however, is that we did the decent thing only in fits and starts. Our heroes were certainly the more capable of the two gangs out there, and generally had the better of things. At the same time it wasn’t quite Tottenham at their fluent best.

Out of puff, is the expert AANP take. The sprightly, fighting-fit specimens of late-August and September have been replaced by wheezing, weathered versions. The spirit is as willing as ever, but the flesh is flagging like the dickens.

That said, when they clicked, our troops did so pretty dreamily, and but for a selection of errant finishes we might have regaled one another over new year’s eve with tales of Goal of the Season contenders. But there’s the rub: errant finishes. Chief amongst them, I suppose, was the penalty, but other highlights on show included a couple of first half moments of slapstick gold, in which various players wavered between stepping aside for each other and all trying to connect simultaneously, as well as various more conventional misses.

As mentioned, when operations came together Wolves didn’t stand much chance. They just trotted around in appropriate spots and hoped for the best. However, these moments were fairly intermittent. For every smooth combo on show there was at least one instance of a move falling apart at the construction stage. Again, it struck me, most of those out on show would benefit from a lazy day or two watching Christmas reruns on the telly-box, and with the feet up and no energy expended.

Good to see that they can still carve open defences like the best of them; but to concede after the only five-minute spell of pressure faced in the whole match does rather knock the stuffing. Another two points we can wistfully mourn come May.

2. Solanke and Kulusevski

Foremost amongst those fighting the good fight were Solanke and Kulusevski, who well and truly took to heart the instruction to beaver away like the dickens. If there were a forward pass of some loose degree of promise being shunted around halfway, one of these two were upon it in a trice.

Their fine and worthy inputs did not end there. Solanke in particular demonstrated a hitherto rarely-seen ability to twinkle-toe his way around desperate, retreating Wolves legs. Too selfless by half, the upshot of much of his good work was that by the time the moment arrived for the trigger to be pulled, Solanke was often still a good 10 yards south of the action, meaning that it was left to his various chums to try their luck.

Kulusevski meanwhile demonstrated yet again that while he has something to offer out wide on the right, his talents are best showcased when he pops up slap bang in the middle of things, with licence to go where the mood takes him. Admittedly the mood as often as not takes him veering off slightly to the right anyway, but I nevertheless prefer him in that Number 10 slot, and each passing game merely reaffirms this notion.

2. Son (and Werner)

If Solanke and Kulusevski were at the bright and breezy end of the Juices Floweth spectrum, poor old Sonny was still trudging along at the other. Putting to one side his penalty miss, he seemed to spend his hour getting bogged down in a mass of confused ideas as to what to do with the ball when it arrived at his feet. The result generally seemed to be that he ground to a halt, malfunctioned slightly and either pickled his end-product or ran into a cul-de-sac.

There was a whiff of the old errand-of-mercy about his substitution on 60 or so minutes. While Timo Werner is no world-beater it struck me that there was a pretty marked change in levels of vim and spark on the left, when the German arrived.

If any amongst the readership are inclined to leap into action first, give things a moment’s thought at some later date and live their life by the motto ‘Consequences be damned’ then the notion of dumping Sonny on the bench for the foreseeable probably strikes you as a winner.

I’m inclined to be a tad more circumspect myself, and while a game or two on the bench might be no bad thing, the chap still ought to have plenty to contribute in the coming five or so months. A shame that neither Mikey Moore nor that Odobert beak are fit and ready to step in, but I’m all for Herr Werner stretching his legs in the coming days, as an immediate-term running repair.

More broadly, at 32 we can probably assume that a creature whose game is as burst-of-pace-dependent as Son’s will, sooner or later, start to wind down, so a spot of forward-planning would not go amiss. The hot take is that although his contract runs out this summer, itchy fingers abound in N17, ready to trigger a one-year extension. This makes sense to AANP, and once Odobert and Mikey Moore are fit, suitable replacements will present themselves for a gentle handover.

3. Dragusin and Gray

As mentioned, to concede at the first sniff of pressure exerted by the other lot was a blow to the lower regions. Giving the beady eye to replays of that second goal, neither centre-back really covered themselves in glory.

A case could be made for Archie Gray to wear the principal bell of shame about his neck, which is almightily unfortunate, because if the goal were his fault I make that just about the first errant act of his, in four or five outings at centre-back. Aside from the goal, yesterday and in all previous jaunts at centre-back he was near-flawless, making sensible choices defensively, showing awareness of current events buzzing around him and also proving most competent in possession.

Alas, that business of keeping up with current events hit a minor blip yesterday, and it proved costly. In the build-up to the Wolves equaliser, when things were still at the Harmless stage, Gray’s duties appeared to include the babysitting of that Strand Larsen egg. This he managed well enough, until the moment when the crucial pass was played into the area.

At this point, S-L simply toddled his way in front of Gray, and that was that. It was all very pleasant and courteous, so no alarms on that front; but the real issue here was that Gray not only allowed the chap to go where he pleased without making much effort to prevent him, he also made no attempt then to catch the blighter as he latched onto the ball.

It may have been that Gray expected Dragusin to pick up the baton once S-L made his move, but if this were the case it was optimistic at best. Dragusin, for a start, has at the back of his head a peculiar accumulation of hair, and half a shaved scalp, but decidedly and absolutely no eyes. And lacking eyes in the back of his head, nor bothering to give a glance over his shoulder to see what menace might have been lurking, he sure as heck wasn’t about to lend a helping hand to Gray.

The net result was just that. S-L did not hang around, but slapped the thing into the net, and those various missed chances came home to roost.

As mentioned, a shame that Gray’s copybook was blotted thusly, because he seems a most competent young thing when it comes to elite-level centre-backery.

Dragusin is a slightly more curious bird, showing himself yesterday pretty capable at various of the defensive elements of the role, before hitting a steady stream of passes to opposition players.

He did punctuate all of these with one absolute doozy of a pass, out to the right in the first half. It was one that reminded me of the little video compilations one pored over when he was about to sign, and which had various amongst us chattering excitedly about how good a passer he no doubt was. Safe to say that he certainly fancies himself as a ball-sprayer of some zip; but a ratio of one in five or so does make me raise a concerned eyebrow.

4. Reguilon

Before signing off, a mention of young Senor Reguilon. And having introduced the topic so dramatically, with the public no doubt awaiting, with baited breath, the meat of the story, I’m not quite sure how to elaborate. Frankly, as I’m not privy to the inner workings of the Postecoglou mind, the best you’ll get from me is an apologetic shrug, and gentle rehash of existing ideas.

From what I gather, poor old Reguilon has been persona non grata all this time because he’s been fashioned by nature as one of those more conventional full-backs, who sticks to the touchline as a well-trusted vicinity, and is happy to swing crosses into the penalty area. And indeed, these traits were on show during his 40-odd yesterday.

Where Reguilon struggles, according to the narrative, is in inverting, and this is why he spends most of his hours gazing on longingly from afar, the disappointment of being excluded week after week barely compensated for by the enormous envelope he pockets each month. In short, he’s not a Postecolglou sort.

It says much about the state of the sick-bay, then, that even Reguilon was dusted down and shoved on for the best part of the second half yesterday. With Spence’s suspension now served, he will presumably come straight back in at left-back, at the weekend, but the dubious state of Udogie’s hamstrings suggests that there may yet be another cameo or two from Reguilon before he’s bundled out the door. If nothing else, I suppose, it hammers home the point that we need a signing or two come the new year.

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Spurs match reports

Spurs 3-6 Liverpool: Five Tottenham Talking Points

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1. Disclaimer: Liverpool Were Jolly Sharp

Before working up a head of steam on this one, I’ll rattle off a few disclaimers. Frightfully dull, I know, but better to be honest about these things upfront, I find.

So in the first place, one sometimes just has to get down on bended knee, remove the hat and give a spot of deference to the other lot. Hold up the hands, I mean, and admit they were better. Even though the cheeks may burn with embarrassment, every now and then it’s an unavoidable truth, and yesterday by golly Liverpool were on form. Best I’ve seen this season by a country-mile.

Had we been at full strength, and well rested, fed and watered, and had none of our lot thrown in any individual gaffes to smooth their path, I still fancy that they’d have bopped and swayed to a win pretty comfortably. Their one-touch game, and energy in and out of possession, were both about as high as the charts allow for these things. And with that said, there’s no real need to bang on much further about them.

A second point I’ll flag in the preface is that we’re still playing an 18 year-old midfielder at centre-back, such is the crowded nature of the N17 infirmary tent. The tagline about 10 players missing is perhaps a bit thick, given that it includes such squad-fillers as Mikey Moore and Odobert, but there’s no getting away from the absence of goalkeeper and both centre-backs (and, yesterday, left-back).

Even accepting that this simply means that the power-that-be ought to do a better job of fattening up the squad, the ongoing absence of three key starters creates the dickens of a challenge for any manager come matchday.

Now personally, I’d stop here. Two large caveats seems plenty to me. Go beyond that, and one starts to lose the goodwill of the audience.

As such, I’ll distance myself a little from the other bleatings. I’ve heard it said that Liverpool, due precisely to their squad depth, were able to rest 7 or 8 of their lot midweek, and had an extra 24 hours to snooze it all off – AANP shakes a brisk head when subjected to that sort of whining. Who amongst us, after all, does not have the occasional cross to bear?  

Over here, the line that really arrests the attention is that first one – Liverpool were just too dashed slippery. Best in the country, and quite possibly in Europe. As such, I’m taking yesterday’s bash as something of an isolated incident.

We appear to be in the territory now of every defeat being used as an opportunity to sharpen the nearest knife and go hunting for the head of Postecoglou; and while the Bournemouth and Palace losses were pretty grim to wade through, 3-6 to Liverpool is one I’m waving aside.

For what it’s worth, I’m curious to see how Our Glorious Leader fares when the squad is eventually bulked up sufficiently to outrun opponents twice each week, with all concerned fully drilled in the art of Angeball. Or, in other words, I’m inclined to be patient.

2. Individual Errors

Irrespective of how good Liverpool were, our heroes still seemed a tad too generous in their work.

To repeat, even if Team Lilywhite had been near flawless I suspect we’d have ended up second best, but this was an afternoon on which every now and then our lot switched off, gave a dozy yawn and allowed Liverpool to stroll forward and help themselves.

Take the opening goal. Liverpool had certainly hammered away in the preceding 20 minutes, and the cross swung in by Trent A-A was undoubtedly a doozy, but the shake of the head with which AANP greeted the marking at the back post was laced with meaning, make no mistake. Not a week goes by, it seems, without an opposing attacker wandering into Pedro Porro territory and being allowed an unhindered effort on goal.

Not that this one was necessarily the fault of Porro alone, or even Porro in part. While the header was deposited in Porro’s vicinity, the chappie who delivered it (Diaz) was pretty clearly under the guardianship of Sarr, as the goal’s opening moves were still being constructed. When Diaz tiptoed off into the area – the moment at which most right-minded defensive bods would strap up and pay particular attention – Sarr simply stopped moving and waved him along, dash it.

Porro might still have taken an emergency measure or two, having seen all this play out right in front of him; and Dragusin did not cover himself in glory by losing track of his own man in the same area; but Sarr’s was the crime that would attract the judge’s eye.

While some might quibble that picking one goal from six conceded rather misses the point of things, I wave an indignant fist and argue that the opening goal was a pretty crucial one.

And while on the subject of picking out crucial goals from six conceded, I’d also give a bit of airtime to the one just before half-time, which turned a hopeful-looking 1-2 into a rather deflating 1-3.

That third really ought to have been avoided if young Dragusin had managed to dredge up a brain cell or two from within the empty recesses between his ears. To remind, a hopeful clearance was lofted into orbit around halfway, and Dragusin could pretty easily have simply stood where he was – even putting his hands on his hips, if the mood took him, and watching from afar as the Liverpool forward worked up a sweat bringing the thing down.

Instead, Dragusin was briefly possessed by the ghosts of Romero, Dier and Dawson, and abandoning his post he raced up to halfway to challenge for a header for which any bookmaker would have made him comfortable second-favourite.

Well, of course he lost that particular duel, taking a solid headed swat at thin air, and coming back down to earth a good 20 yards from where the ball would land. And if you want a sense of where the ball did land, it was precisely the spot from which Dragusin had set off in the first place – that spot on which, in a parallel universe, he stood waiting with hands on hips.

To repeat, such was the Liverpool performance that one suspects they’d have found a way even if Dragusin had channelled his inner Ledley, but it didn’t stop some choice Anglo-Saxon emerging from the AANP lips on the stroke of half-time.

I’ll actually show a bit of leniency towards all involved for the second half goals, because by then the state of the game was such that our lot were rather desperately flinging forward every fit and available man in search of goals (of which, in fairness, they found a couple) and were consequently absolutely ripe for the slicing when possession was lost.

I also jabbered above about the absence of both centre-backs and goalkeeper, and while this situation undoubtedly does disrupt things, one probably ought to acknowledge that even with Vicario, Romero and VDV in situ, our defence has hardly been watertight. The view at AANP Towers remains that our first-choice defence is populated entirely by personnel whose primary assets are their attacking instincts. One can well imagine Romero, for example, making precisely the same botched call that Dragusin made for that third goal. What I’m getting as is that if Ange decided, when all were fit and ready, that a VDV-Gray pairing were the way forward, I’d give him an audience.

3. Son

There’s something a little off about Sonny, wouldn’t you say? Not quite the talismanic and near-unstoppable force of the recent past, I mean. And not just yesterday, either. The chap has looked distinctly par-boiled all season so far.

There has been at least one injury this season, and it might be that his pistons are yet to fully fire. One might also pretty reasonably argue that in the first half in particular yesterday, few amongst our number seemed to make things click as required when in possession.

But nevertheless, where once he would receive the ball two-thirds up the pitch and one could assert with some confidence that he’d produce some impromptu delight, now things tend as often as not to fizzle out a bit when the ball is at his feet.

Time, of course, will do that. Even the fleetest of foot specimens eventually slow down, so it might simply be a creaking of the hinges. At present though, I can’t quite work out whether this is one to file under ‘Temporary Blip’, or a more dramatic heading such as ‘Beginning of the End’.

Whatever the diagnosis, I thought that Werner introduced a spot of much-needed pep when he came on. It’s not that he necessarily tore up the Liverpool defence and ran the game; but rather his direct running offered a new and slightly more direct threat. It made a useful change from the little variety of cul-de-sacs that Son seemed to have found all afternoon.

4. Kulusevski Central

It also struck me that our attacking play as a whole went up a notch or three once Kulusevski was switched to the centre, in the second half.

You’ll have noticed by now that it’s a big day for disclaimers at AANP Towers, and the latest of these is that Kulusevski’s – and the team’s – increased productivity might as legitimately be ascribed to the fact that Liverpool went 5-1 up and relaxed, as to the fact that Kulusevski moved from right wing to centre. That, I suppose, is one for public debate.

From this corner of the interweb, however, it seemed that those monitoring our general level of Attacking Thrust would have been jolted into life when Kulusevski made his move.

The whole business of Kulusevski’s virtues when operating centrally as opposed to the right wing is a topic on which I have, intermittently, banged on about for a good season and a half now. And if a shifty-looking lawyer were to knock on my door and hand me an envelope marked ‘Confirmation Bias’, I’d grudgingly give them a knowing nod.

Nevertheless, what is an incontrovertible truth is that our first goal came from Kulusevski pressing Liverpool from a position that was more Central than Right-Wing (the Liverpool bobbie collapsed in a Kulusevski-induced heap outside the D, and Maddison did the rest).

Indeed, all three of our goals owed much – either in creation or execution – to Kulusevski barrelling straight through the centre of the pitch like some particularly irked species of bull. One understands that the current limitations around the squad, combined with the desperation for Maddison to become a string-puller-in-chief, often means that the easiest way to rearrange the pieces is to shove Kulusevski wide.

However, the chap seems this season to have been our most creative attacking eel, and as such I’d knock on a few doors to campaign for starting with him in the middle and fitting the other pieces around him.

5. Spence

Before wrapping up, a brief word of congratulation for young Master Spence. I can well imagine an exasperated muttering or two from those reading that particular line. Spence was, after all, part of a defensive unit that conceded six, and was amongst the party that failed to clear the crucial header in the build-up to the second goal. One might be within their rights to take AANP aside and quietly suggest a sit-down, and a restorative beaker of something or other, until restored to full sense.

I’ll continue to bang the Spence drum however. I don’t really want to dwell too long on the whole business of passing out from the back, but he does play the game in this respect.

More impressive to me, though, were his contributions further forward (including a hand in one of our goals yesterday, as well as the pass for Solanke’s in midweek), plus a pretty firm commitment to the defensive cause. Where Porro is frequently out of frame in the replays for our goals conceded, Spence was at least visibly involved, playing the role of Last Man Back on each of the second half goals conceded.

I’m still not sure what the objections were that prevented either of Conte or Ange picking him for a couple of years, but he seems a most useful and diligent sort on the evidence of the last week or so. As with the broader Ange-overseen project, I’m all for a bit of patience.

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Spurs match reports

Spurs 1-0 AZ Alkmaar: Three(ish) Tottenham Talking Points

1. Mikey Moore

When an aged and arthritic Mikey Moore calls time on his career a decade or two hence, arms laden with Ballon d’Or trophies and neck weighed down with medals, no doubt he’ll look back fondly on last night as something of a milestone, the day on which he called for hush and proceeded to announce himself, officially, as something of a Big Deal.

Of course, the curiosity here was how little early indication was given that this was going to turn into a bit of an event for the slippery young eel. Not to put a dampener on things, but his early missed header was one that due and proper process dictates is filed under ‘Glaring’, and in fact, until the half-time toot that faux pas was his most prominent contribution to events. Put another way, Mikey Moore on the right did not have much to recommend it.

I actually thought that the decision, by those paid big bucks to make such calls, to shove aside Timo Werner at half-time was rather brutal. I noted Ange gruffling away afterwards that Herr Werner’s removal was due to his low confidence, and the thought struck me then, as it does now, that kicking a man while down was perhaps not the textbook-suggested method of reviving his flagging spirits, but so be it. Werner was offed, Johnson took to the field on the right and, in a move for the ages, Mikey Moore began the half on the left-wing.

What then transpired, in the opening 20 minutes of the second half, was something of a blur – particularly if you happened to be the AZ right-back. From the off, the young whelp approached matters with supreme self-confidence, clearly having decided that simply getting his head down and racing at the opposition with ball at feet would do the trick, and by golly the approach worked splendidly.

His combination of pace and close control, augmented by the occasional stepover and jinky change of direction, made for exhilarating viewing – and here at AANP Towers that’s not a phrase we throw around too lightly. Of course, Mikey Moore’s reputation has spread about every corner of N17 and beyond over the last year or two, and some amongst us have even been privileged to witness his talents first-hand at various youth levels, but to see the intrepid youth parade his wares in such fashion for the First XI, in a competitive match, was thrilling stuff.

As pleasing as anything else was the fact that this was not just one memorable solo dash, etched into the memory – young Master M. packed in about half a dozen of them. That start to the second half was sensational, with Moore repeatedly demanding the ball, all in lilywhite obligingly feeding it to him and he then wasting no time in taking on as many men as the other lot could send over to stop him.

I also gave an approving nod to the fact that Moore seemed pretty open-minded when it came to direction of travel, completely unfazed whether shown on the outside or cutting infield and seeing where life might take him from there.

I suppose if one were in particularly churlish mood one might wait for the bluster to die down before pointedly remarking, quite possibly with hands on hips, that all that direct running looked very pretty but the nub of the thing was end-product, in which column there wasn’t much of note. Any such criticism, in my mind, would be pretty thick stuff. On a couple of occasions, a desperate defensive lunge blocked off an attempted cross and shovelled it aside for a corner; but he also popped in two or three top-notch crosses, the ilk of which really merited a finishing touch, as well as very reasonably having a shot at goal himself, when the mood took him.

His effort at the very start of the half, in which he beat three players, was then crowned with an absolutely glorious pass in between two or three defenders for Brennan Johnson to run onto. The pass alone was worthy of an ovation, but to have beaten three men beforehand – having initially collected the ball deep inside his own half – had us goggling away like nobody’s business. In short, the fact that no goal was spawned from his efforts should be of minimal concern, for by and large he had the AZ defence on toast and sent all manner of inviting balls towards the attacking mob.

Of course, there is now a bit of babble amongst the massed ranks to have Mikey Moore start against Palace, captain the team and spearhead Tuchel-era England for good measure – but I suspect Our Glorious Leader will not be too heavily swayed by any such background noise, and a big puffy jacket and cushioned seat on the bench will be next up for the lad. Should Sonny be unavailable on Sunday, or indeed at any point in the near-future, I’ll give our selection the eye, but with Odobert now returning to fitness I suspect Ange will be quite happy to ration the minutes of The Young One.

2. Timo Werner

While Mikey Moore’s night was quite the triumph, one might fairly reasonably argue that Timo Werner’s was somewhat less so. Indeed, there has been some speculation that with Sonny first choice, Mikey Moore’s statement performance last night and the return from injury of young Odobert, this might have been the last we’ll see of Herr Werner. Such a theory seems a tad extreme to these particular ears, there being plenty of fixtures through which we still have to churn, but as ever, Werner is in pretty desperate need of an uptick in confidence.

Gallingly for the chap, things almost started so well, that cross of his for the head of Mikey Moore being an absolutely beauty. I don’t mind admitting that the train of thought flowing through this particular loaf at the time was along the lines that Werner had already shown the capacity to beat his man for pace on the outside, and here we had proof that when cutting back on the inside and onto his right clogger, he evidently also had the ability to deliver an enticing cross towards approaching scalps – as such demonstrating a threat from both feet.

Be that as it may, however, even the most ardent member of the Werner Fan Club would struggle to get past the wretched fellow’s chronic inability to finish a one-on-one. One almost wishes he were not blessed with such pace, so as to avoid repeatedly steaming clear of opposition defences and creating for himself such opportunities to display to the watching world his glaring ineptitude in front of goal.

If one could, one surely would club together with one’s chums and simply buy the poor fish a goal, to relieve his pain; the next best thing, however, seems to be the Postecoglou option of putting him out of his misery.

I have wondered, in my idle moments, whether he needs simply to pop up at the back-post for a tap-in, one of those chances that requires minimal thought and simply needs an instinctive dab of the toe, to get his goal and fire up his juices. Call it the Brennan Johnson Effect, a single turning-point that will transform an attacker from whimpering bundle of nerves to unstoppable goalscorer. We can but dream. Until then, it is difficult to imagine that Werner remains ahead of Mikey Moore in the left-wing pecking order.

3. Pros and Cons Amongst The Other Personnel

As ever, the game was a mildly maddening mixture of dominance in possession not quite translating into goals, coupled with occasional opposition forays a little too easily escalating into clear goalscoring opportunities. One can probably excuse the absence of fluidity, given the nine changes in personnel, so I’ll give the magnifying glass a quick spit and polish, and hop straight over to the individuals instead.

3.1 – Dragusin

Master Dragusin reappeared needing to put in a decent amount of spadework to redeem himself after the ills of his most recent, red card-marred appearance, and although a clean sheet in the record books is something he can merrily take to his grave, the evidence of the eyes was a little less convincing.

The dictionary defines “erratic” as “moving or behaving in a way that is not regular, certain, or expected”, and while I’m not sure that that captures perfectly the fellow’s offering last night, it will probably suffice. At some points burly and imposing, at others quite the liability, his was a mixed bag.

If there was one consistency to his game it was that he seemed as much of a risk in possession as he was when defending – caught over-elaborating on the ball a couple of times, and similarly not quite providing the reassuring presence one would expect from a man-bunned gum-chewer when required to prevent opposing forwards blitzing the lilywhite goal.

As I seem to conclude each time I see the chap, he probably needs a run of games before we all rush to judgement, and he can’t be helped by being thrust into a makeshift back-four and in front of the reserve goalkeeper, but nevertheless he is yet to convince.

3.2 – Gray

Alongside him, Archie Gray seemed to me to have a rotten old time of it at right-back, providing precious little resistance whenever the AZ left-winger built up a head of steam. The thinking behind his deployment is presumably that his ability in possession makes him a decent fit for those moments when we need our full-backs to beetle off into midfield and do useful things; but if AANP has a principle by which he lives and dies it is that defenders inhabit the planet first and foremost to defend, and on yesterday’s showing young Master Gray did not even seem aware that a manual for such things even existed, let alone giving any indication of familiarity with its contents.

3.3 – Udogie

That said, when it comes to defending I increasingly fret about Signor Udogie. Going forward he does, of course, tick numerous boxes, but early on in proceedings last night an AZ johnnie sent over a peach of a cross from the right that had three or four chums stretching and mere inches from a tap-in.

All well and good, and a shiny commendation to whichever AZ winger was responsible – but re-watching the spool rather glaringly highlights the negligible effort put in by Udogie to prevent the cross. In the first place he did not attempt to close down his man, and then when the cross was being readied he turned his back on it for heaven’s sake. It was all dusted under the carpet because the chance ultimately went begging, but this sort of guff strikes me as amongst the absolute basics of defending, and yet our first choice full-back seems barely interested.

3.4 – Forster

It was not all bad news at the back, however, as Fraser Forster lumbered in, gave an immaculate performance between the sticks and then lumbered off again at full-time to wherever giants go to rest.

In terms of the eye-catching stuff, he emerged with full marks. The leaping save to palm away a header from a corner in the first half was what one would expect, I suppose, but, casting one’s mind back a few years it was the sort of effort that Monsieur Lloris got into the habit of simply watching sail in, so a polite ripple of applause seems appropriate.

He then came racing off his line and to the edge of the area, a manoeuvre that I don’t mind admitting initially appeared not so much fraught with risk as a glitzy advertisement for the act of kamikaze, but to his credit it turned out to be impeccably judged, Forster not just getting to the ball in time to avert danger but also managing to stay within the confines of his area when he splayed his limbs.

And then in the second half he got down swiftly enough to repel the late AZ shot after they broke from halfway. This one was pretty much straight at him, but needed saving, and on a night on which the back-four in front of him seemed to have much about them of the kitchen colander or sieve, his ability to beat away the incoming was vaguely reassuring. Mercifully, there were also few alarms when he played the ball with his feet, life chugging along pretty serenely on that front – which has not always been the case with Forster – so all in all his presence provided quite a welcome antidote to the slightly less robust unit pieced together in front of him.

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Spurs match reports

Spurs 4-0 Everton: Four Tottenham Talking Points

1. Odobert

I don’t mind admitting that AANP was as surprised as the next man on casting the bleary eye over the morning headlines a few days ago and seeing one Wilson Odobert unveiled as the latest shiny new lilywhite on the shelf.

Naturally, here at AANP Towers when such seismic events occur we hot-foot it to a darkened room and embrace technology, so within moments I was dusting off the spools and watching grainy footage of Odobert’s highlights from his former incarnations. And all very impressive it looked too, when condensed into a few minutes and soundtracked by some of that modern electronic noise; but the critical question was whether or not he could peddle such wares within the cut and thrust of the THFC Starting XI.

We didn’t have to wait long, Our Glorious Leader evidently deciding within 48 hours or so that Odobert merited elevation above the pre-existing queue of wingers. Naturally one respects the privacy and confidentiality of the changing room, but I would certainly have enjoyed the opportunity to sneak a furtive look at the maps of Messrs Werner, Solomon and Richarlison upon learning that Odobert was being shunted to the front of the Left-Wing queue.

And whoever whispers pearls of wisdom in the Odobert ear earned themselves a pay-rise, because within about the opening quarter-hour the young oeuf had ticked all manner of boxes on the ‘How To Please Your New Employer and Win Raucous Applause From Your New Fans’ cribsheet.

From the off Odobert took to the attacking requirements with breezy vim and energy, immediately adopted as one of the cool kids by Messrs Maddison and Udogie, and combining with this pair to impressive effect on the left. He attacked his man at every opportunity, but was also sensible enough not to go overboard and try the same trick every time, making full use of the availability of those around him to try to eke out opportunities.

A couple of dribbles and attempted balls into the centre gave the impression of a lad who knew his onions, and with Johnson, Kulusevski and Porro forming a similar alliance on the right, we seemed well-stocked in the department of provision from the wings.
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Odobert’s diligent tracking back towards his own goal to execute a sliding challenge early on in the piece was a smart move, earning him a rousing ovation, as many a seasoned observer turned to the chum by their side to remark upon his work-rate with an approving nod, but the moment that really caught the AANP eye and elicited a pretty audible purr from the natives was when he trapped a ball falling from the sky with the a level of control that could not have been bettered had he used his hands, and for added impact threw in a neat change of direction, all in the same movement.

So all pretty whizzy stuff from the new boy, and excited chatter was very much the order of the day, but here at AANP Towers we are nothing if not curmudgeonly old cynics. As Odobert departed early to his standing ovation I therefore cleared the throat and gave tongue to the sentiment that in future performances I’d like to see a spot of end-product. We do have a certain history after all, from Bergwijn to Bentley, Nkoudou to N’jie, of bringing in wingers who look frightfully bucked and full of ideas, only to underwhelm and rather quietly exit the place a year or two hence, with nothing but a few low-key sentences on the website to record that they were ever part of the gang at all.

And watching Odobert cut back one pass into a defender, and have another attempted cross turned behind by another Everton sort, the thought did occur that the odd piece of rotten fruit has been flung at Werner and even young Johnson for the similar transgression of failing regularly to generate an end-product that really does the business. So a decent enough start from young Odobert, but room for a notch or two of improvement.

2. Bissouma’s Redemption

I suppose ‘redemption’ is rather over-egging the thing, but having spent the opening weekend of the season on the naughty step it was very much in the interests of Yves Bissouma to produce a return to the form of early last season. While Everton were amongst the more feeble opponents ever to work up a sweat in the magnificent environs of N17, Bissouma still earned himself some pretty hearty back-slaps for his efforts.

This being the sort of bash in which our heroes monopolised possession, the onus was on Bissouma not so much to perform sentry duty and prevent an onslaught from the foe, as to use possession wisely when collecting it at the base of midfield. Pleasingly, the fellow not only got that particular memo, he also had the good sense to dip into the memory bank and trot out some of his greatest hits from early 2023-24. 

As such, we were treated to such classics as Bissouma picking out – and delivering – a natty line in short forward passes that bisected opposition defenders; Bissouma effecting upper-body swerves that sent Everton players off into different postcodes and allowed him to glide forward; and Bissouma running with the ball from inside our half to inside theirs. It was sensible use of the thing, and carried out at a healthy lick too, free from dawdle and ponderousness.

As an additional bonus, when Everton did healf-hartedly string a few passes together and make some perfunctory attempts to get over halfway, Bissouma was on hand to effect a couple of handy and forceful blocks and tackles. To repeat – and it cannot be overstated – Everton were awful, but we nevertheless required a chap to collect the ball from deep and have the clarity of mind to get us onto the front-foot. Bissouma did this more, and with tasty fixtures looming it was a most timely return to form.

(As an aside, frightfully good of the bean to chip in with the opening goal, a special mention to such efforts that cannon off the underside of the bar for a spot of additional aesthetic value, what?)

3. Romero

Keep this to yourself, but prior to kick-off I was becoming rather oddly invested in an earnest argument that questioned the defensive capabilities of Cristian Romero. Before you turn on your heel, never to return, a brief precis of the argument.

Romero, I hypothesised, was being praised to the rafters by such luminaries as that Messi chap, so evidently had something about him, but a nameless irritation had nagged away at me at times last season that such commendation was on account of the more forward-thinking elements of his play – his ability to pass from the back, and chip in with goals at corners and suchlike. Regarding the bread-and-butter, of marking his man and winning defensive duels, or besting attackers who tried to sidestep him, I was giving the upper lip a concerned chew. And if the concern brewed last season, it was given a fresh shot of biff last week at Leicester.

Well on the basis of yesterday, most of the above turned out to be amongst the finest rot ever peddled by this particular quill. Romero was in barnstorming form, not just hitting right notes but giving it full Midas and delivering an absolute defensive masterclass.

After one or two early misplaced passes to make the AANP pulse spike a bit, he settled into his groove and carried out his every duty like an absolute champion. Block tackles weren’t just carried out, they were delivered with the force of a man determined to send his opponent into next week. If the ball were lobbed forward for an Everton laddie to chase, Romero matched him stride for stride and either inserted self between ball and man, muscled the opponent out of the way or, if circumstances absolutely demanded, extended enough limbs to block any attempted pass or shot.

On top of which he was dominant in the air, picked out some delightful passes (witness the chipped ball that put Maddison through on goal early in the first half) and thundered in a headed goal. He very nearly preceded all of that with a goal in the third minute, having shown technique one would scarcely have credited him with to take a pass on his chest and thump goalwards.

I suppose that, as with Bissouma above, one can point to the quality of the opposition, but that Calvert-Lewin chap can be quite handy, and Romero did not allow him a sniff. Van de Ven was also in fine fettle, in particular in matters of bursts of pace, but goodness me Romero delivered an absolute masterclass.

4. Smart Formational Thinking

It was a strong afternoon for approving nods. Sonny, filling in atop the tree, demonstrated rather pointedly the virtue of the high press, before taking clinically his second half chance; Udogie seemed much more like his old self than last week; Vicario pulled off a very smart save at 2-0 that might otherwise have given the nerves an emphatic jangle; Spence caught the eye in both penalty areas in his cameo at left-back; and so on.

In fact, right from the line-up reveal an hour before the curtain went up I felt a quiet thrill, upon seeing the formational tweak of one holding midfielder and two more attack-minded sorts alongside him. The choice of both Maddison and Kulusevski to partner Bissouma was rather punchy stuff from Our Glorious Leader, the sort of decision that yelled ‘Fie upon thee, oh opposition sorts, I sneer at your line-up and impose upon you an attacking formation that will give you the dickens of an afternoon before you even think about scoring yourselves’. And it did exactly that.

As mentioned, Maddison swum off to the left to buddy up with Udogie and Odobert, while on the right, irrespective of the pre-match scrawls on the whiteboard, Kulusevski spent half his time operating as a second winger alongside Johnson. An intriguing gambit, and I suppose strictly speaking Kulusevski was more of an inside-right, expected to occupy spaces in between the right flank and the centre, but the net result was that the left side of the Everton defence was frequently overrun, with the additional sweetener of plenty of lilywhite bodies arriving to supplement things in the penalty area.

I piped up a few terms last season to campaign for Kulusevski to play centrally rather than on the right wing, and while he also drifted wide to excellent effect yesterday, his quick-footed trickery inside the area, which created Bissouma’s goal, rather exemplified the fine produce that sits within his size nines from a more central berth.

This overly attack-minded setup, in which Romero, VDV and Bissouma sit and everyone else flies forward, might perhaps be ill-advised against the league’s elite, and with Newcastle and Woolwich to come I suppose that Kulusevski might be jettisoned for a slightly more conservative option, but in a home fixture against a relegation contender I was all for it.