Scared to look at the papers today? You bet! And with good reason. Peter Crouch will wish he had pulled an Aaron Lennon and chickened out before kick-off because the cut-throat wordsmiths all have their pen-knives out and the logically challenged striker gets a deserved verbal kicking.
I don't blame Crouch exclusively for what happened last night. In fact, his sending off forced us to play with the ball on the ground and build from the back, rather than just lumping the ball forward. The way we dealt with the remainder of the first half was admirable but with only 10 men, fatigue was bound to set in and, for that, Crouch has to shoulder some responsibility.
The morning after the night before, and our recent results can no longer be twisted into having one eye on a glory, glory night; now they just look like a bad run. Sky Sports continues to play that advert for the road to the Champions League Final at Wembley but suddenly the feeling of involvement has all but evaporated. The season goes on regardless, and we need an almighty dusting down session before the Stoke game at the Lane on Saturday.
Games thick and fast, that's what suits Spurs best, right? Ten-day breaks between games certainly haven't seemed to work. We do relish our chances as the underdogs, however, and after this rotten run of results we are certainly underdogs to get back into the Top 4.
The European adventure has felt all along like we were flying by the seat of our pants; prevailing despite injuries and unfamiliar gameplans and still proving our worth on countless occasions. When you live on the edge, sometimes you fall off with a bump.
The rest of the season is now going to be about character; what's done is done and it is up to those who have played badly or made mistakes to dig in and find that something extra. I wouldn't say that the Champions League is a total lost cause - if any Spurs team can overturn this sort of deficit, it's this one - but it's unlikely. Very unlikely.
For now, we're going to have to put up with the sneers and the jibes. Men versus boys, finally found out, simply not good enough; you know, that sort of thing. The best tonic is a good performance and more importantly now a good result.
But there is another cure for the Bernabeu Blues:
On opening a Christmas card from my girlfriend, what should fall out but a copy of Spurs v Inter Milan. Immediately I stuck in it the DVD player and rewatched the game in its entirety. I then watched the highlights and then homed in on what I've come to call Bale's goal, watching it over and over. I watched it again last night.
Of course, we all know it wasn't Bale who applied the finishing touch but that third goal against the Champions League holders is as much the Welshman's as anyone else's.
From Younes Kaboul's interception, the touch to Bale, the quick thinking as he knocks the ball past Maicon and the audible gasp of crowd anticipation as he gives chase, the perfect ball across the box, again the crowd volume soars as 35,000 realise we're actually going to beat Inter Milan, Oh When The Spurs Go Marching In and Andy Gray stating "I have never, ever, seen a player do what he does." The whole thing constitutes a wonderful moment that sums up our season in Europe.
Nobody realistically expected us to win at the Bernabeu, yet everybody knew we might just get hammered. Next time you see an advert for the Wembley final, or a negative newspaper column, don't look back to last night, because it's not the sum total of what we've achieved along the way.
True glory may be out of our reach for the time being but being a football fan is as much about glorious moments as glory itself, so before you turn your attentions to Stoke and our end of season run-in, take some time to reflect on what we've done along the way. You won't be disappointed.
Showing posts with label end of season. Show all posts
Showing posts with label end of season. Show all posts
Wednesday, 6 April 2011
Wednesday, 2 March 2011
The irrational thought processes of a modern football fan
In the modern world, twelve days without a football match can only mean one thing - it must be summer, the close season. Nothing to play for, no poor records to worry about or good records to uphold, no injury concerns, just sun, clear skies and...
Wait, what's that? It's the middle of the season? You've got to be joking?
No I'm not joking. It is day eight of Spurs' 12-day break between games and, with only our loss at Blackpool to concentrate on, my mind is going into meltdown. We lost to Blackpool, for heaven's sake, that must mean we're terrible, doesn't it? We've lost it, we have no hope of fourth place and we're going to lose all our best players and our manager.
If I could step back and take a breath, I would see that it will all turn back and forth a few more times before the season is out but, having had so long to week to stew over our last result, my ability to process rational thought has ceased.
Basically, it's a form of cabin fever, and I'm sure other Spurs fans must be feeling it - forced to look elsewhere for kicks, on Sunday evening, folk stood foolishly outside their glass houses, throwing stones in the direction of our neighbours, Arsenal.
Jokes and insult filled forums and fanzines as Spurs fans fell about laughing at the Gunners' misfortune to have lost a cup, the final of which they stumbled into and, come the end of the season, they aren't going to care about.
Then yesterday, I'm sitting comfortably in my front room watching the Oscars highlights, when I flick channel to see Chelsea launch a brick into our patio doors, cracking our window of opportunity looking out over fourth spot and handing the bragging rights straight back to the now-realistic title challengers, Arsenal.
When I was younger, I'd come up with all manner of weird and wonderful reasons and explanations that proved Tottenham were better than their league position suggested.
It worked like this... In 1998, Spurs beat Newcastle 2-0 which meant that by default, because Newcastle had beaten Barcelona earlier that season, we were better than Barcelona. Add to that, the fact that Barcelona beat Real Madrid 3-0 in March 1998, and Real went on to win the European Cup, then Spurs must be better than the European Champions.
Experience tells us this logic is flawed. But that doesn't stop us applying similar rules week in week out . Only a few weeks ago even the papers screamed, "If Spurs can beat AC Milan in the San Siro, they can beat anyone."
Today, this simple logic, improper as it may be, is working heavily against me. It is telling me that if Wolves can beat Blackpool, and Manchester United moreover, then they can make short work of us.
If our last game had been the 1-0 victory over AC Milan, then I'm sure that by now we'd all be convinced we were on the cusp of an extended spell of European domination, but it had to be Blackpool didn't it.
There are still four days before our match at Wolves on Sunday, by which time we'll most likely be convinced of impending relegation, possible administration and all in training to attend tryouts for FC Hotspur of Tottenham?
Sorry, but this is the football season, and twelve days is too long.
Wait, what's that? It's the middle of the season? You've got to be joking?
No I'm not joking. It is day eight of Spurs' 12-day break between games and, with only our loss at Blackpool to concentrate on, my mind is going into meltdown. We lost to Blackpool, for heaven's sake, that must mean we're terrible, doesn't it? We've lost it, we have no hope of fourth place and we're going to lose all our best players and our manager.
If I could step back and take a breath, I would see that it will all turn back and forth a few more times before the season is out but, having had so long to week to stew over our last result, my ability to process rational thought has ceased.
Basically, it's a form of cabin fever, and I'm sure other Spurs fans must be feeling it - forced to look elsewhere for kicks, on Sunday evening, folk stood foolishly outside their glass houses, throwing stones in the direction of our neighbours, Arsenal.
Jokes and insult filled forums and fanzines as Spurs fans fell about laughing at the Gunners' misfortune to have lost a cup, the final of which they stumbled into and, come the end of the season, they aren't going to care about.
Then yesterday, I'm sitting comfortably in my front room watching the Oscars highlights, when I flick channel to see Chelsea launch a brick into our patio doors, cracking our window of opportunity looking out over fourth spot and handing the bragging rights straight back to the now-realistic title challengers, Arsenal.
When I was younger, I'd come up with all manner of weird and wonderful reasons and explanations that proved Tottenham were better than their league position suggested.
It worked like this... In 1998, Spurs beat Newcastle 2-0 which meant that by default, because Newcastle had beaten Barcelona earlier that season, we were better than Barcelona. Add to that, the fact that Barcelona beat Real Madrid 3-0 in March 1998, and Real went on to win the European Cup, then Spurs must be better than the European Champions.
Experience tells us this logic is flawed. But that doesn't stop us applying similar rules week in week out . Only a few weeks ago even the papers screamed, "If Spurs can beat AC Milan in the San Siro, they can beat anyone."
Today, this simple logic, improper as it may be, is working heavily against me. It is telling me that if Wolves can beat Blackpool, and Manchester United moreover, then they can make short work of us.
If our last game had been the 1-0 victory over AC Milan, then I'm sure that by now we'd all be convinced we were on the cusp of an extended spell of European domination, but it had to be Blackpool didn't it.
There are still four days before our match at Wolves on Sunday, by which time we'll most likely be convinced of impending relegation, possible administration and all in training to attend tryouts for FC Hotspur of Tottenham?
Sorry, but this is the football season, and twelve days is too long.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)