A Polite Request for Darren Bent: Sit Down and Shut Up

You might have noticed that Darren Bent is scoring goals this season. With half the season gone his brace at Sunderland puts him a solitary goal behind our little pocket rocket in the race for the Golden Boot. You would have to be living under a rock not to have heard the sickly sweet praise being heaped on him by the chest waxing, teeth whitening, perma-tanned metrosexuals on MOTD. Suddenly there are calls for a place on the plane to South Africa. After all, he's scoring goals, that means he must be good..right?

I never disliked Darren Bent as a person when he was at Spurs. Unlike Berbatov he covered plenty of ground, chased up loose balls and genuinely looked like he gave a toss when he scored. However, few Tottenham fans will look back in bleary eyed nostalgia at the 'good old days' when Benty was spearheading our attack. At best he was the kind of player who didn't suit our style of play. Playing the ball over the top or lumping long balls forward for flick ons has never been (and hopefully never will be) the way Tottenham play. At worst (and probably closer to the truth) he was out of his depth. The pressure of playing at a top club, the looming spectre of his price tag and his pairing with considerably more accomplished players left him looking distinctly average.

I can hear the 'Bent for England' lobby now, checking their stats through spectacles steamed up with nerdish indignation "He scored goals for you...he was your top scorer". Yes, Bent scored goals for us but what the stats don't tell you is how many times he missed headers, ballooned simple shots and wasted golden opportunities getting the ball trapped under his feet. The number of times a move would build up over several minutes only for Bent to run it out of play or shoot hopelessly wide are too numerous to recall. When I think of his name I do not think of his goal tally, I think of the frustration and fury I felt watching him, the howls of derision from every other fan in the stand and the laughter of my mates at the pub everytime he blew a chance.

Despite all this I felt no bad feeling towards him and was happy to see him linked with a move away in the summer. Before we could wish him all the best my news now feed was flooded by reports of his foul mouthed tirade on Twitter. I can understand the frustration and uncertainty involved in such a prolonged transaction but this isn't Championship Manager, this is real life with real money. Tottenham is not just a football club, it is a business, and an incredibly successful one. Levy was only doing his best to get a realistic return on our admittedly inflated purchase price.

Since his move, in every interview I have watched he has dropped in references to Tottenham and 'Arry in particular. All have been negative, not only about 'Arry and his management style but about the dressing room, the board and the club itself. A true professional would stand tall and let the goals speak for themselves. They would have the self-respect not to be drawn into bitching about a former club in the media, the dignity to remember who took a chance on them in the first place. Defoe spent more time on the bench over the course of years than Bent ever did yet when he moved to Pompey there wasn't one negative remark, only a profound sadness that things hadn't worked out how he had wished.

My most fervent desire is that Bent gets a place in the England team so that millions of people all round the world can see what a thoroughly average and mentally weak player he really is.

InArryWeTrust

Tottenham v West Ham: A pitchside view

I have not made it to White Hart Lane as much as I would have liked this season. I along with 24,000+ other fans have sat patiently on the season ticket waiting list for time immemorial; every season shuffling up to Master Levy, the foreman of the workhouse, thrusting my grubby hands forward grasping a cheque for 1000 shillings and, head bowed, hopefully pleading 'Please sir, can we have some more?'.

I am reliably informed that yesterday was a 'London derby' and the very fact that we scoff at this shows just how far we have come as a team. The atmosphere was decent but not electric, it was only the Hammers fans who (as we consistently reminded them), treated it like a cup final. Fair play to them as well, they sung all the way through and apart from the moronic abuse thrown at 'Arry and Defoe it was good value. The same cannot be said of their team. Even before the injuries they looked weak and afterwards they were utterly toothless. The last time I watched a team that poor at the Lane it was Newcastle and we all know how that ended. You had to spare a thought for Diamanti who seemed to be trying to play us himself. Always sad to see an established team drop but come the end of the season I have no doubt they will be in the desperate scrap to stay up.

Tottenham did not deliver a 3-0 Man City-esque performance; at times it was lethargic and staler than Arsenal's trophy cabinet. However, from start to finish we had the game completely under control, and never looked like throwing it away. Huddlestone and Palacios were embarrassingly dominant in midfield in the abscence of Parker and it was little surprise to see the Hudd given man of the match. When given time and space there are few better, he pinged balls out faster and more accurately than some of the uniquely talented ladies I have watched on late night Japanese television. For once he actually seemed to be employing his formidable physical strength, bumping players off the ball with ease. When Huddlestone is good he is a joy to watch and probably deserved a goal. That said, the lad has a turning circle matched only by the Titanic and when pressurised by a more tenacious midfield has a tendency to go quiet. Palacios was not back to his best and his distribution was erratic but he cleared up well and put in some challenges worthy of the Colosseum. It is difficult to express how important he is to us and, if we are going to push on next year, 'Arry has to put an arm round his shoulder. Lennon was excellent and there were genuine media reports that Ilunga had suffered friction burns to his leg trying to stop him. Every time he got the ball he skinned his man and put a ball in; must surely have booked himself a ticket to SA. Modric, apart from his goal, was not at his best and ran out of steam towards the end. He may have the face and the physical strength of a 15 year old girl but its fantastic to have our little Croatian locksmith back. In truth, we looked quicker and more creative when Krancjar bounded off the bench, long hair rippling in the December breeze, the slightest hint of stubble clinging to his sculpted jawline, eyes like pools of ink, luxurious lashes teasing the lane with their delicate flutters...aherm...anyway *slowly takes tissue and dabs on lap*, after so many years of makeshift wingers (Thimothee Atouba anyone??), 'Arry now has a lovely problem out on that left hand side.

Up front Crouchy and Defoe were quiet. Crouchy has a fantastic ability to stand 6 foot 7 and jump 5 foot nothing, getting beaten for headers all afternoon. His aerial ability is useful for set-pieces but otherwise he can shift those feet quicker than Keano doing his Riverdance tribute so why we can't just play it to him on the ground baffles me!?! Defoe drifted in and out of the game but the result was typical of him. After a silent twenty minutes his characteristic pop shot was parried and he lashed the rebound past a startled Green, almost ripping the net clean in the process. Defensively we had very little to do. BAE overlapped well whilst Charlie continued to demonstrate his almost telepathic understanding with Lennon. I imagine 'Arry forcing them to cuddle in the dressing room; little Lennon lying in foetal position on Charlie's bearded lap as he growls out Croatian lullabies, rocking him ever so gently. Absolutely fantastic seeing King Ledley back. He didn't put a foot wrong all game and more encouragingly managed to play the whole 90. Dawson, with the exception of Huddlestone, was the stand out performer. Impeccable in the air, threw himself into every tackle and passed intelligently. It was incredible watching him screaming at King to get back in position and marshalling the backline like a true Lillywhite captain.

A fully fit squad (almost), confidence high and sitting in 4th place with half the season gone...

InArryWeTrust

Merry Xmas Yids

Fellow yids, as we are so often reminded, this time of charity and peace to all men is not a universally happy experience. There are the alone, the estranged, the poor and then of course the humble Tottenham fan. The charge for greatness always seems to hit the buffers around this time of year, with us dropping more points than Gomes does catches. Perhaps it's down to the Hudd's "festive plumpness", the Keane family's Christmas "golf trips" or the distraction Crouch faces as a body double for Will Ferrell in 'Elf'. Yet for once we have much to smile about this year:

1) Here we are half way through an already epic season and we sit in fifth, two points off third and four points off second.

2) A win this Boxing Day will guarantee a top four slot.

3) Both King and Modric are in contention for starts.

4) Sky Sports showed pictures today of the lads messing around having a snowball fight at the training ground. A happy squad is a successful one...

Oh and finally, in Arry's latest interview he described what a 'triffic squad' he had and said he was looking forward to 'a quiet transfer window'. Expect more movement than Crouchy's robot dance and more enquiries than after one of Wenger's school visits.

Merry Christmas Yids!

InArryWeTrust

Arry's Christmas List - Part I

If I were Father Christmas what would I buy dear old 'Arry to keep him happy this festive season?? I'm under the impression that most of the presents he receives come in the form of heavily stuffed brown envelopes so how about something a little bit different this year. Here is my version of our man's player wishlist:

GK: With his comically large hands and a nose that could smell the future Gomes started his career with Tottenham as a joke, the Premiership's clown keeper. Yet, over the last few months he has come on leaps and bounds, to the point where it is difficult to think of a better reflex shot stopper in England's top tier. His command of the box and aerial abilities have matured under the guidance of Tony Parks and it has been a long time (fingers crossed) since his last howler. Perhaps more importantly he has formed a mutual bond of affection with the club and the fans. I will never forget the South Stand singing to Robinson "Robbo Robbo give us a song" at which point all eighteen stone of him swung round hands raised and belted out "Stand up if you hate Arsenal". Gomes has not quite reached such levels of adulation but seems content at the Lane and his crossbar warm-up never fails to elicit cheers.

I personally have great faith in Gomes and feel he is a top class keeper. However, with Cudicini now crippled with man's greatest fear, a wrist injury, and the Academy boys failing to shine, it seems new blood is needed as backup. No proven keeper worth his salt is going to be content warming the bench for us and spending money on an old keeper seems to be a wasted investment. We need a young and raw keeper who will be willing to train hard and wait his turn. Whilst I would dearly love to see our improved scouting network turn up a generic South American wonderkid, I think we should look a little closer to home. Scott Loach may not be a household name but he is held in high regard by Watford fans and pundits alike. From the little I have seen of him he looks to be in good form this season and is only being kept from the U-21 jersey by Jo Hart. He has openly stated he would jump at the chance to join Tottenham, presumably on the understanding he would only be back-up. If the price is right this may be money well spent.

Thoughts??

InArryWeTrust

Tottenham's £8 million mystery man

I can't have been the only Tottenham fan raising a bemused eyebrow when, this summer, the Tottenham website proclaimed itself 'happy to announce' the signings of Kyle Walker and Kyle Naughton from Sheffield United for an eye watering sum of money. Using every tool available to a prestigious ITK such as myself (by which I mean Wikipedia, Youtube and Champ Manager) I scoured the virtual world for information on these two dubiously named characters. I expected a babble of excited anoraks speaking in hushed virtual whispers about Sheffield's best kept secret (excluding widespread community incest). In reality there was so little information even Comolli would have thought twice before having a punt.

I shall leave young Master Walker out of this on the basis that he was purchased for one of two reasons:

1) As a deal sweetener - With numerous clubs showing an interest in Naughton and Everton weighing in with a bid, 'Arry flogged the remainder of his 'genuine rolexs', jumped in his Reliant and motored up to Bramall Lane. The sum for Walker himself is believed to be nominal but with the promise of a loan back it was money in Kevin Blackwell's chubby little hands and a great incentive to deal with us and not Everton. A kind of buy one get one free (a little bit later on) deal.

2) As a future prospect - At the time of purchase Walker had only just broken into the Blades first team and had featured fleetingly for the U-19s. Throwing him into the physical and psychological side of the Premiership would be as about as irresponsible as letting Bentley park your car. He was never bought as the kind of player who could nonchalantly stroll into the 1st XI but as a bit of a gamble. Perhaps he will come good, more probably he will not but even to Levy, a man tighter than Tom Jones's face, £1-2 million isn't a lot of money. He's getting games for United, the Championship is more competitive than ever and all that experience can never be a bad thing. Watch this space...

So back to the real star of the show, Kyle Naughton. Despite his name he was not born in the Deep South, does not appear to favour caravans as a place of residence and does not (currently) have a pony tail. He is actually Sheffield born and bred, impressed throughout his academy days and even Arsene's professional team of child trappers were sniffing round him. 7-9 million odd is a lot of money for a left back, especially for one with no top tier experience. Pundits claimed he would play 'an important and immediate' role in 'Harry Redknapp's Tottenham project'. 5 months later and just one first team appearance in the 94th minute has left me more than a little perplexed. Anyone got any ideas?? I watched him pre-season and thought he looked quick, intelligent and incredibly composed on the ball for his age. We have Hutton as cover for right back and Bale as cover for the left, so Kyle is left bumping round with the reserves and the Academy boys. Why not a run out in the cups? Why not a loan?

Sitting in the reserves is never good for a player, both mentally and physically, especially not at an early stage in a player's development. That said, maybe his luck is about to turn. With Hutton being shoved out the exit door and BAE off to confront anonymous Cameroonian fans at the African Cup of Nations there is suddenly space on the bench. I am led to believe Naughton is a right back but is not afraid to play on the left. An injury or a couple of shockers from Bale, or Charlie being forced to play in the middle and suddenly there is a nice little shaven headed space in the first team. We have a unenviable reputation at Tottenham for ruining young talent and this cannot continue. Levy is a generous benefactor but we aren't Citeh and splurging money on 'complete' players is unsustainable. Come this January I'd love to see Naughton pulling on a Spurs shirt and getting some first team experience.

He doesn't have to be magic, I'm not expecting miracles.

That said it is Christmas...

In 'Arry We Trust

Ready to give up on Tottenham?

I wonder if there is a statistic about the average life expectancy of a Tottenham fan. There must be a fair number of stress induced strokes "Oh God Gomes is coming out to claim a cross", cardiac arrests born of sheer unadulterated ecstasy "We put how many past Wigan?" and more than a few broken hearts "I am NEVER eating lasagna again". Yet surely the greatest cause of Tottenham related fatality is years and years of utter exasperation. This season has been both a blogger's wet dream and worst nightmare. Usually after a thoughtful morning ride on the fetid sweatbox that is the Northern Line and a couple of pints with my fellow yids I feel myself to be an authority on Tottenham's failings and the obvious solutions that dear old 'Arry (bless him, he is getting on a it) has missed. Just last week I thought I had cracked it. Tottenham had developed the 'professionalism' and 'discipline' to break down the league's strugglers but still lacked an inner confidence needed to beat the big boys. Two results down the line and I find myself as confused and frustrated as Cheryl Cole on her Honeymoon. Yes Wolves defended well but we looked utterly toothless. What happened to that gritty streak that saw us rip apart Wigan and had Jordan screaming 'Freeedddooommm' in delight on the side of the pitch? Suddenly when taking into account Everton and Man Utd in the Carling Cup I began to feel that familiar old shiver of fear. The same I used to feel when I saw Bent in our starting lineup...

Yet just as I had compiled my thoughts into something relatively coherent rather than the stream of vitriol that would have Allardyce blushing, Man City happened. I was actually down watching Ricky Gervais in Brighton during the game and spent the whole two hours thinking "Enjoy this, it will be the last time you feel laughter and happiness until West Ham get relegated". I pictured the texts flooding onto my phone, the league table being posted on my facebook by my gooner 'friends' and I thought about the MOTD boys shaking their heads and using cliches more worn out than King's knee. Gingerly I edged into WalkAbout to see the last 10 minutes and was instantly surrounded by revelling Spurs fans. I watched the delicate flicks, the crisp cool passing, the deliciously accurate crosses and wondered for a moment whether White Hart Lane had been magically relocated to Rio De Janiero, such was the Samba football on display. I found myself staring at the screen greeting every cute move with claps and giggles like a pre-pubescent girl at a Westlife concert.

Everything I had carefully planned to whinge about was being rectified by the cool, fluorescent glow of the television. BAE playing with passion yet composure(not to mention that priceless nutmegging of Adabewhore, Palacios throwing in tackles like the good old days and Crouchy having the ball played into his feet rather than hopeful lumps up the pitch. It wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination. Still too many stray passes, still too many overcomplicated moves, and just one run from Petrov brought back familiar fears about our inability to defend against pace. Yet this genuinely looked like the kind of Tottenham side which could break the stranglehold. Bassong is talented but still learning however, in the absence of Ledders and Woody, Dawson is fast becoming not only a fine commanding centre back but also, a fine captain. I cannot remember ever seeing true leadership emanating from a Tottenham player in the manner which came so naturally to Viera and still does from Terry. The injuries to our two lynch pins may actually be a mixed blessing, if Dawson continues to mature and improve I sense the makings of a Captain Fantastic and White Hart Lane legend.

Last Saturday I wanted to recall O'Hara and shove him in BAE's position, to try a five man midfield with Modric as link man, and I wanted to write to Daniel Levy asking for one last little portion of his children's inheritance in January. Now, as ever, I am just another confused spurs fan not daring to believe we might actually be good enough...

Cue hairloss, palid skin and a world weary look...the slow inevitable transformation into Gary Megson...

In 'Arry We Trust

Tottenham Hotspur: The Season so far...

Gentlemen, first things first, apologies, I realize I have been off the blogging scene almost as long as if I'd "broken a bone in my leg". Not that you are at all concerned with my personal life but I have had quite a manic time of late. Up until now my Internet connection has been about as effective as Arry's botox injections. Fortunately, after a series of Joe Jordan-esque phonecalls, Mr Murdock was kind enough to quickly button up his trousers, bid Arsene, Alex, Rafa and Carlo farewell and gift me with all the wonders of a Sky Internet and TV package. 'Oh Brilliant' I thought 'just in time for the Everton game'...as if we needed another reason to hate Murdoch.

There is far too much ground to possibly cover in one post. There was the systematic dismantling of my self respect as I sat, the only spurs fan, in a Croatian bar, watching Chelsea dissect us like an inquisitive and playful child with an insect. Then there was the gut wrenching sight of Fabregas waltzing through our backline with Palacios and King, our two great, tough tackling, defensive rocks made to look like Titus Bramble. And then...well...thats it really. Lets be honest, when looking at the season so far its been a great success. This was always going to be a tough year with Man City spending heavily in the summer and Villa dealing well in the transfer market but, nearly half way through and we're up in fourth place punching with the big boys.

This appears to be a very different spurs side to the one I have watched utterly exasperated for the last few years. The Tottenham of old upped their game against the Big Four, usually still losing but putting in plucky performances that, for once, won acclaim in the media. The same Tottenham would then grind out sloppy draws against West Brom and Derby, throwing points away against teams we should easily have put to the sword. This season we have been outplayed by United, Arsenal and Chelsea (although never by as much as the scoreline has suggested), making schoolboy errors that have cost us dear. Yet, far more encouragingly, against the so called 'lesser' teams of the Premiership we have taken leads, defended them and put the game to bed, tucking them up like Wenger doing his nightly rounds at the Arsenal U-14s Lodge. Christmas has never been kind to our dear club so lets hope the apparent crisis of confidence we showed in front of goal at Everton was only a temporary blip.

Are we a top four team? Maybe. We certainly aren't a top 3 team yet but Liverpool are looking like a genuine casualty this season. My only worry is that a couple of nasty injuries and we are in a very sticky situation. Despite my initial reservations Krancjar has been a fantastic replacement for little Luka but I still feel we lack quality cover in key positions. With the continuing rehabilitation problems affecting Ledley and Woody all we need is an injury to Dawson or Bassong and we are back to the dark days of Huddlestone anchoring our backline. I also can't help but feel Defoe is our only prolific striker. With Pav nearing the exit door, I just don't believe that Keane and Crouch are capable of spearheading a top four goal rush. And then there's Lennon. One broken leg and we'll have a whole season with Bentley on the flank. Lets hope for some clever and cost effective re-enforcements in January.

In 'Arry We Trust