And, seventeen hours after getting on the bus, we were getting back off it, pointless.

He might be a baggy-faced, hypocritical mercenary, allegedly held in low regard by the Inland Revenue, and who you wouldn’t buy a second-hand car from, but he can sort a team out, and has, this season, put together arguably the best midfield in the division in Bale, Modric, Parker, and Lennon. Those four, plus a real goalie instead of that Brazilian clown who’s been crying between their stick for the last couple of years and Van Der Vaart, have made Spurs an efficient, entertaining team.

Their fans, on the other hand, were a different matter. In the Haringey Irish Centre, where the barmaid’s lisp made an unfortunate product of two pints of Guinness at £3.30 each, the Spurs folks were chatty, reasonable, and perhaps a bit over enthusiastic about our new manager, which made for a decent bit craic. After the match, the obnoxious cretins who decided it was funny to play the old “sign on, sign on” and Loadsamoney nonsense got a bit uppity when told where to stick their opinions.

News from Reading station, via the travelling McDonnell’s, was that the Ghanaian ticket collector thought that Gyan was an idiot who makes all Ghanaians look like idiots. Nice to know that it’s not just us that thinks that.

We’d done the modern football fans’ thing by supping weird Christmas Latte coffee with praline (WTF?) -Lee’s idea - at the services, when in days gone by we’d have been sitting on the grass drinking bottles of Maxim. How times change

In the meantime, there was a decent game of football.

Westy
O’Shea Brown Bramble Bards
Larsson Vaughan Colback Rico
Sess
Wickham

So Spurs didn’t have Bale, thank goodness, and what ensued was a fascinating midfield battle with Sandro making up their midfield and ensuring both sides set out a 4 4 1 1 formation.

It should really have been Colback v Parker and Vaughan v Modric, but it seemed to pan out with our Welshman and their ex-Mag being in close proximity for a good deal of the game. Rico, theoretically our left winger, drifted in and around to good effect in the first half and produced our first shot on target – with his right foot, and after over half an hour. Soon after, Seb whipped in a cross that was just behind Rico, who couldn’t turn quickly enough and ended up in the back of the net himself.

Five minutes from the break, we won free kick just about at the limit of Seb’s range, and his shot evaded the wall to force a decent save from Friedel, palming it away to his right. Wickham was again a lone star up front, and he won the majority of the headers, but Sess wasn’t close enough to take advantage of the knock-ons, which were in the main well placed. Lennon pulled up and was replaced by Pavlyucheno, and Spurs re-shuffled to two up front.

At the back, Titus looked as calm as a cucumber in Tow Law, never being stretched as he mopped up each time Pavlyuchenko or Van Der Vaart got into dangerous positions. Spurs might have an impressive midfield, but the failed to track back on several occasions, which we should have taken better advantage of. Both Seb and Rico benefitted from this extra time and space, but both failed to trouble the aging Friedel – I know he’s still a cracking keeper, but you have to mention that he’s forty.

We played out the three added minutes without a real scare at either end, and were well worth a scoreless half time, as we’d managed to deny the home side a real shooting chance.

We started the second with Bendtner (no, not doing anything on the wings, as he’d allgedly done that in Chinatown the other week) on for Wickham, who had obviously tired after a great shift in the first half. The super-intelligent home fans gave him grief for being a Gooner, while forgetting the previous history of Gallas and Adebayor. The pizza-loving Dane (if you’re buying) and Vaughan swapped passes, and our David got in a right foot shot which was saved. Rico made his first mistake by sort of kicking the ball away after conceding a foul although I’d argue that he was only back-heeling it cheekily towards a Spurs player. Whatever, it meant that any goal celebration would mean his T-shirt would have to stay under cover.

Sess, who had been producing clever runs all afternoon, did it again as he danced into the box, but his close control was probably too good, if that makes any sense, as the ball never got far enough from his feet to allow him to get a shot away. We repeated the trick soon after, with Seb getting within a couple of years of goal, but the ball seemed to get stuck under his feet and he too couldn’t fire one off. Colback was next, but the no shot was forthcoming, and it was almost Wolves all over again as they broke away. A minute later, and Wes, who’d been generally impressive, played a sloppy ball out of the box to the feet of a Vand Der Vaartm he found Pavlyuchenko, and his shot was crisp, low, and wide of Westy’s right hand. Buggeration.

Westy produced another decent save from Adebayor, then somehow Modric managed to put the loose ball over the top with the goal gaping like a Mag when asked to add two and two to together.

Bards, who’d taken several knocks, was replaced by McLean, with Rico dropping to left back. Unlike last Sunday (have I mentioned that this weekend was our fifth of seven consecutive without a Saturday game? No? I should have), the Derryman took several touches before he produced the run and cross that we’d so quickly some to know and love. We piled on the pressure, with Bendtner firing well over, then Gardner came of for Colback with fifteen to go, and the Brummie had a real go. Breaking forward at every opportunity. They brought on Livermore and Rose (no, not a company of ambulance-chasing solicitors) for Sandro and Van Der Vaart as the game ran down, but we could not get the shots on target.

So it ended 0-1, and very disappointing it was. Had we kept that one out and snuck one ourselves, they couldn’t have grumbled, as we never stopped working, and never stopped trying to play football even if it didn’t quite come off most of the time. Our lack of someone who’s natural instinct is to get a shot in was probably our downfall, although Wickham won most things hoyed his way and Bendtner looked very clever with the ball. Sess continues to both impress and frustrate – his Opta stats show that he’s right up there at the top of the list of players completing dribbles, but quite what they mean by completing baffles me, as there’s rarely a pass or shot at the end of it. Fantastic to watch, but little end product.

At the back, Bramble was class, O’Shea raised his game a bit, Bards was Bards, and Brown did what he usually does – dominating 90% of the game, then cocking up at the vital moment. The midfield battle, as previously stated, was probably fascinating to the neutral as the four central men competed well for both sides. Seb did what he normally does, but was forced back by the home defence, while Rico was my Man of the Match – first half he was everywhere, then in the second did well when shifted to left back.

Hard work all over the pitch, but no points, but, however, I don’t feel too let down by the performance, and neither should the manager. Spurs are a good side, and, but for a moment of inadequacy, we were very, very close to them – not making their keeper work hard enough was our real let-down

Then there was the walk back to the bus, and the toss-pot home fans making their mouths go – shame that a few like that spoil what had been a decent day when we’d spent some decent time with some decent home fans. Still, they get to go home to their laverley Norf Landan maisonettes and sleep easy in their happy misconception that nobody outside of London has ever had a job. Regional stereotypes - aren’t they marvellous? Glad I’m one.

Keep the Faith

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