Tottenham's Unbeatable 12th Man Wins Us Another 3 Points

Gents apologies for my recent absence. I have been involved in lengthily discussions with the tabloids over a fee for the pictures sent to my sister and mother by what I have to describe as 'an anonymous Chelsea left back'. Based on the evidence presented to me...lets just say he's no Ledley King.

A rain soaked quagmire in Wigan is hardly the characteristic setting for a fairytale, Pavlyuchenko is hardly the name of a Prince but Sunday afternoon saw an ending that would have had Walt Disney bawling his eyes out. Ok, so the result was no 9-1, in fact it wasn't even a particularly impressive performance, but there are a couple of things that I felt compelled to record to posterity.

First of all it was nice to see us having a bit of luck. Defoe was so far offside for the goal I thought he was having a chat with Kirkland. Indeed, the way he reluctantly picked the ball out the net ready for a freekick said it all. Perhaps the linesman couldn't see through the downpour, perhaps the occasion of a packed DW stadium got to him, perhaps closet Spurs fan Gordon Brown had had one of those 'chats' with him at number 10. Anyway who cares. As 'Arry said afterwards 'sometimes ya get em, sometimes ya dunt'. We usually don't, this time we did, Huzzah!

Secondly something must be said about Wigan's impressive recreation of the Somme. Paul Merson, shortly before wrapping a red and white scarf round his neck and eating a prawn sandwich, claimed the conditions were most likely to hinder the home side's 'flowing passing game'. In fairness, both teams deserve a medal, and possibly counselling, after completing 90 minutes in conditions resembling the toilets at Glastonbury. When I saw little Luka strip off his tracksuit I felt genuine dread. My mind flashed forward to a vision of him, thrashing wildly, shoulder deep in mud and squealing out for Krancjar and Charlie. As it was, he proved an inspired substitution, unlocking the Wigan defence with some determined running and incisive passes.

Then there was Pav. I am not going to start waxing lyrical about our grinning, blonde mulletted Russian. At times he looks lazy and disinterested, like a considerably less technical Berbatov, albeit one who knows what a smile is. Indeed 'Arry has hinted time and time again that he doesn't put in full shift in training and has made it abundantly clear he is infuriated by his lack of English. Still, we are easily won over and after Leeds and now Wigan he must be given his chance. 'Arry need only remember the plight of Bentley and Bale before writing off Pav. Indeed, rumour has it the board were considering a bid from London Zoo for Bale before his run in the team; they have since focused their attention on acquiring Emile Heskey for the donkey enclosure. The way the players mobbed him says much for the kind of character he must be. We will need every striker firing on full cylinders in the push for fourth, Pav could still become a spurs legend.

However, for me, the most memorable aspect of both the Bolton and the Wigan game was the fans. This wasn't Fulham, this was the mythical 'North' where cannibalism and Viking raids are still commonplace. Yet, there they were in their thousands, a sea of white and blue. As both home teams struggled to fill even half their stadiums, we were there, packing a whole stand and drowning out the wind and rain. I can claim no credit having watched both matches desperately hungover on the sofa but it was enough to bring a tear to the eye. Even as we disappeared without a trace in the first half at Bolton, the fans could still be heard loud and proud driving the team on. Lets not kid ourselves, for all Arry's protestations to the contrary, for all his claims of 'im trainin really well this week', it was the fans who had Pav put on. As the game wore on the chants became too persistent to ignore, and what a fine bunch of tacticians we all are. There are clearly backroom forces at work at Spurs but you could see from Pav's celebration just how much the fan's support meant to him. Many things are beyond our power as humble supporters, but the adulation of the fans is the ultimate goal of every player, and chants of 'Super Pav' might just dissipate our Russian's homesickness come summer. If only Crouch was as good as our support...

InArryWeTrust

Peter Crouch: Ready for the Chop?

Forget Bale, there are times when I think our whole club is cursed!

Who can possibly forget Lasagne-gate, where our aspirations of Champion's League glory slipped from Martin Jol's chubby sausage fingers on the final day of the season. My enduring memory is watching Carrick play a long ball forward, a look of horror and disbelief suddenly sketched across his pained face. One hand grasped the back of his sagging shorts, the other gesticulating wildly at the bench as he waddled towards the dugout sobbing 'Martin...its happened again'. Then of course there was the phantom goal that Mendes scored against United. Clattenburg petrified by the prospect of actually making a decision appeared to put his faith in democracy. "Ok all of you who think it wasn't a goal, jump up and down and wave your red scarfs in the air...hmmm ok I think that's fairly conclusive". Even the linesman, suddenly struck down by Wenger-itis, claimed he could not see, instead standing as stiff as John Terry looking at the 08/09 Chelsea WAG calendar. Factor in all the last minute deflections, slices, penalty decisions and general mishaps, and we have every reason to feel somewhat aggrieved. Something tells me that somewhere in North London, a withered old mage known as "Uncle Arsene" is mixing up his next anti-Tottenham hex; complete with eye of newt, wing of bat and still warm y-front of a French academy player.

The Villa game appeared to be just another display of how unlucky we can be. With the number of shots we had, the possession we maintained and the pressure we applied, O'Neill should have been scuttling back to the Walkers stadium, pleading to be put in charge of a decent team. Yet somehow we came out having dropped another two points at home after a comfortable performance. Contrary to what many media outlets (especially the clueless, hideous American agencies drawling about team's "powerful offence" and "awesome set plays") have stated, we were excellent on Saturday. Daws and Ledley were imperious, keeping Heskey, then the enormous man-mountain Carew in their back pocket. Bale continued to demonstrate his phenomenal talent whilst Corluka, despite appearing to spend the game fossilizing was solid as ever. In the middle, Huddlestone and Palacios roamed freely, breaking up play and spreading the ball for counter attacks. Even Bentley had a decent game, his habit of pirouetting every four paces actually becoming rather endearing.

Another two points dropped, another case of the Tottenham curse...right? Actually I'm not so sure. Admittedly important decisions appeared to go against us as Foy stumbled awkwardly round, his tight shorts stuffed with Arsenal's unspent "transfer budget", but such excuses cannot continue. For all the talk of needing a back up keeper, a midfield enforcer and a central defender, I think our real problem lies in our self proclaimed 'strongest area'. Whilst Defoe can be painfully inconsistent, he is a natural goal scorer and has added several pounds of physical presence to his game. Sure, he's no Drogba in the air but the drivel about dropping/selling him I have seen on some forums are as mindless as Zokora's running. He is one of the few strikers in the league who can be anonymous for much of the game before springing up and slotting a couple from no-where. Instead the real issue appears to be the role of second striker.

The jury is still out on Peter Crouch but the metaphorical collection of silver haired pensioners and acne riddled students are beginning to tutt and shift awkwardly in their seats. 'Arry proudly stated "the lad won nearly every header" against Villa and he wasn't far wrong. The only problem was that every header rolled lamely out for a throw-in or was blasted forwards with wild optimism. For much of the game we would have been far better hammering a large wooden stake into the ground and trying to ricochet long balls off it. An old football coach of mine, that's right I'm going all ITK on yo asses (next week...how to win over the woman you love) used to train Crouchy during his time at Southampton and said for a boy of his size he was incredibly weak in the air. Instead, he suggested the other players lay the ball to his feet where he was considerably more adept. Yet, time and time again, slick counter attacking football is exchanged for hoofs up the field. Crouchy is a tidy footballer and is still enormously useful in the air but he is quite simply not fitting into our current style of play.

We are left with one of two options. Either we persist with Crouchy but make a deliberate policy of playing as though he is 5 foot nothing or we change the strike partnership. I hate to sound sensationalist but at such a crucial time of the season, these big decisions need to be made. It is clear that we need a high profile goalscorer in the summer but who is the man to partner Defoe up front and lead our forlorn hope of Champions League football?

Gentlemen, I lend you my ears...

In'ArryWeTrust

Tottenham's Transfer Window: An Unmitigated Disaster?

The last couple of weeks have not been particularly positive for us Tottenham fans. Aside from a brief lift against Fulham we have been struck down by a set of results more disappointing than a tour of the Emirates trophy room. It should be stated that a draw away at Birmingham is by no means a disaster. Yet, having had the lion's share of possession and a couple of chances to put the game to bed; tucking up little Chucho with a kiss on the forehead and a traditional Ecuadorian folksong, we managed to blow it in extra time again. Corluka's languid style always strikes me as equivalent to one of those muzzled dancing bears typical in Eastern European circuses, gyrating lamely to the wheezing of an accordion. The equalizer did little to banish this image as, when the killer ball was delivered, he appeared to be scratching himself against the back post, totally oblivious to the game of football going on around him. Such is the curse of the entire Tottenham team who appear to treat extra time as some kind of encore; an electrifying curtain call filled with rash challenges and needless killer balls.

Despite this, it wasn't all bad. The filth from down the road have gone down in the history books as the first team to be defeated in 3D. And defeated they were, not by a small margin but in "trousers pulled down and bum spanked by Mummy in front of the older boys on first day of school" style. Special commendation must go to Gael Clichy who's idea of a tackle seemed to be running alongside his player hurling handfuls of grass and daises at the ball. Arsenal's effeminate defending was enough to make the usually flamboyant and limp wristed Nani look like some kind of muscle bound, John Terry-esque animal. Talking of John Terry...actually lets not go there...

The potential saving grace of our 2010 was the January transfer window. As soon as 'Arry was quoted as saying this would be "a quiet one", we were instantly linked to every player under the sun. Van Nistelrooy and Huntelaar up front, Sandro and Muntari in the middle; Joe Cole, Anton Ferdinand and Lionel Messi all warming the bench. Instead, the spinning, merry carousel of transfer dealings has left many feeling underwhelmed, disgruntled and wanting their money back from the long haired, chain smoking ride operator. But was it really that bad?

My major criticism would be the lack of an experienced CB signing. Woodgate and Ledley now have a total of about three effective limbs between them and cannot be relied upon to lead the backline. For all his improvement, I still do not see Dawson as capable of mentoring Bassong in the same way C*mpbell did of King, or indeed Ledley did with Daws. An older, more experienced signing, even on loan, would have been the perfect remedy to see us through to the end of the season. Dawson still has costly lapses in concentration and, as the Leeds game demonstrated, often his decision making lets him down. He needs a player with a cool, old head beside him to curb his wilder instincts and underlying indiscipline. Instead we have got Kaboul, who for all this talk of improvement, is still young and may have been made to look good by the abysmal players either side of him.

Another worry is the lack of cover in midfield. With Sandro now, inexplicably, staying in Brazil for another few months, the burden of midfield enforcer falls heavily onto the shoulders of Wilson and Thudd. 'Arry clearly has as much faith in Jenas as Mrs Terry does in her husband (cue lawsuit) and with O'Hara now back on loan, our famous squad depth is looking distinctly shaky. Once again many have suggested that Kaboul has been brought back as a cover for DM. Personally the thought of an unproven Pompey player one injury away from responsibility for the spine of the team fills me with about as much confidence as Terry's marriage vows. Yes I know he's "big" and he's "physical", but so's that fat Portsmouth fan with the cow bell - surely worth a punt on a pay as you play??

However, the rest of the movement has been, on the whole, positive. Naughton will finally get the first team experience he deserves at Boro. I have always rated him but he won't develop jogging up and down the sidelines and having awkward conversations with Pav on the bench. I'm also glad to see Hutton getting to the chance to prove himself. 'Arry seems pretty set with the dancing bear so this move may help bring about a genuine competition for the right back spot next season. As regards the recall of Walker, you need only look at the comments from Blades fans on the article "Tottenham's £8 million mystery man", to see what a prodigious talent we seem to have on our hands.

The most important exchange of the window was undoubtedly Keano for Gudjohnsen, and this is a move I am particularly happy with. I remember Gudjohnsen from his time at Chelsea and always had a grudging appreciation for his intelligent link play and devastating through balls. All my Chelsea friends (we all have to make compromises) look back on him with a bleary eyed nostalgia and there are even allegations that John Terry showed respect and deference to his wife. At 31 he is past his prime, but he is a player that never relied on pace, athleticism or the other fickle trappings of youth. 'Arry may really have struck gold this time.

As for Keano, well what is there to say? There was a time was looked upon you as a loveable rogue. When you pointed wildly, spraying spittle over the referee after you'd fallen over the ball; we laughed and cheered you on your way. When you celebrated your goals with that camp half-hearted flip, not one man stood up and questioned your sexuality. When you mumbled incoherently during interviews, eyes flickering involuntarily like an Irish 'Rainman', we all nodded and concurred. I really do wish you the best at your latest boyhood club. If it works out then perhaps Levy will be able to roll around in a bathload of paper thin, mostly fraudulent Scottish notes come Summer. If not then there's a very comfy looking seat on the bench that a chap called Bentley is kindly keeping warm for you.

For reports on Naughton/Walker: http://inarrywetrust.blogspot.com/2009/12/tottenhams-8-million-mystery-man.html

In'ArryWeTrust