Well, the dust has almost settled after the whirlwind that was the West Ham game. Normally, I’d be more than a bit upset at dropping two home points having played that well, but last week’s comeback brought the crowd to its feet and into full voice again, evoking memories of the Roker Roar. More of the same, please.

Mind, if it were the West Ham away game we were playing, I’d be fully expecting three points, as they seemed terrified of Cana – imagine what they’d be like if Catts was on the field as well. The furore over Jones being sent off – accepted as deserved by 99% of Sunderland fans despite West Ham fans accusing us of disputing it - has rumbled on, chiefly because of Ilunga’s theatrics. Steve Clarke made himself look, and sound, pretty silly by claiming that their lad was “trying to protect himself, because Jones is a big lad.” What a load of crap. If he was that frightened, surely the best plan would have been to get as far away as possible? And if he was worried about his recovery from a “triple jaw fracture” surely he shouldn’t have been on the field. As the Mail said, people are getting pretty sick about the pathetic defence of the indefensible that occurs all too regularly in football. Give it a rest for a change, eh?

Meanwhile, up the road, they continue to bugger up when all has looked buggered up for months. Renaming the Landfill@SidJamesPark.com will only serve to show prospective investors that not only can you not polish a turd, but that even if you roll it in glitter, it will soon look go back to looking like a piece of shit. Please, Quinny, don’t ever go down that road. You’ve already let the fans down by following the “guilty until proven innocent” line that marks football fans as second class citizens and banned those arrested in the aftermath of the dogfight at the Central Corral.

This being Spurs, having a beer in a local pub is out of the question, much like West Ham. The official line is “no pubs are suitable for away fans. If you’re travelling by car or coach, follow police advice.” Nice. This puts it up there near (not that near, obviously) Millwall as an unpleasant part of London to visit. The Haringey Irish centre is welcoming enough, but it’s never going to be more than a welcoming sports centre with a cheap bar and a big screen. A genuinely nice place, andas far as it goes, but if you prefer a “proper” pub, there are none around, so we hopped off the bus near Enfield and legged it to the Old Wheatsheaf for footballing discussions. Two ex Spurs forwards in our team, plus Reid and Steed – surely it was time that the curse of the former player struck for us rather than against us, and give Bagpuss a bad feeling about his transfers.

A couple of swifites in Enfield’s Old Wheatshef, where we met up with the French part of our party, plus three Mackems who live locally. Turned out that Nick used to edit the “ITHICS” (formerly “IAEOFN”) fanzine, so there’s a small prize if you can remember what those two stand for. Representatives from ALS, Salut Sunderland, and ITHICS debating all things red and white, and adding to Ron’s ever-growing list of names for the Tadcasterbrownale@Sidjamespark.com stadium AKA the Pastrydome. Nice pint, despite a mag barman, as Swansea and Cardiff played out a ding-dong battle on the telly, then off to the match.

Gordon
Bardsley Da Silva Turner McCartney
Steed Richo Henderson Reid
Campbell Bent

I’ve put Bent and Campbell up front, but the younger of the two tended to the right wing as we settled quickly into a decent pace and filled the midfield. After seven minutes, Hendo and Richo were both very close to getting on the end of a good low cross, and things were looking quite good until Crouch knocked a header down and Keane was just onside, despite our protestations, to finish. Richardson shot wide, Steed decided not to shoot (go on, man, will yer!) and even Bardsley fired one just off target as we continued to play the more effective football. There could even have been a penalty as Gomes seemed to catch Bent as he ran onto a through ball. We were a couple of rebounds away from an equaliser, but the closest was Reid’s fantastic volley which beat the keeper but came back off the post.
One down at the break, completely unjustified on the balance of play, but if you don’t score, you don’t get anything.

No changes for us for the second half, and we pressed on as in the first half, and six minutes in Gomes charged in unnecessarily on Bent and there was the penalty. The resultant spot-kick was more Kenwyne than Darren, and it was saved. Whether the keeper should still have been on the field is open to debate, but let’s just say if a defender had committed the offence he would have been sent off. As it was, Gomes went on to make four more decisive saves before Gordon, who’d been as sound as we’ve become used to him being, took a knock and had to go off. A few minutes later, and Defoe rolled the ball into Huddlestone’s path, and there was no chance for Fulop as he thundered the ball into the top corner. We played out the remaining twenty minutes in the same vein as the previous seventy – on top, but unable to force a goal.

With Capello looking on, none of the England strikers really shone, but Bent was probably the best of the bunch despite fluffing the penalty.

Man of the Match? Probably Reid, who showed that he’s currently the best Irish midfielder playing.

….and then you get the beauty of Action Replays. After an unscheduled tour of North London and almost Canary Wharf, I caught the game on MOTD in Spoons back in rainy old Bishop. It showed that Keane was level, that the Gomes challenge on Bent in the first half would have been a penalty if the ref had possessed slow motion replay spectacles, and that Bent made sure he was fouled for the penalty we did get. It also showed that the challenge that broke Gordon’s arm, when the lad was perfectly entitled to go for the ball, was very naughty indeed. If he’d gone in feet first, he’d have caused less damage than staying upright and putting his foot in the way he did. Unpleasant. I know that the better you play, the luckier you get, but after forty-odd years, I do believe that luck against us more than for us, and I’m getting sick of it. We have to do something fairly sharpish to stop this being yet another season of dominating the opposition and not getting the goals our play deserves.

Keep the faith

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