With Jose’s first year completed and the international break just behind us, now is a good time to pause and take stock before the chaos of the Premier League ensues once again. After a stuttering start to the season, it would appear the we’ve hit our straps – and after a successful summer transfer window (a rarity for Spurs’ fans!) it seems that optimism amongst the Spurs fan base is high.

Results – good ones

Looking back at the start of the season, a week in October stood out; it was a week for the ages – a vintage set of results that put a spring in our collective step. After Newcastle’s ridiculous injury time equaliser, dark clouds had threatened to form overhead. That game should have been well and truly dusted with all the chances that we had, but the nature of the farcical penalty decision with Dier being penalised for handling the ball as he jumped for a header left a bad taste in the mouth. But new season, new mentality (hopefully!) and we bounced back superbly. One down against Chelsea in the League Cup, plenty of other Spurs sides would have folded and limped out of the competition. But, the makeshift side – seemingly after a stern half time team talk – came out in the second half and did the business. The shootout penalties were a thing of calm, steely beauty. Signing winners gives you an edge and, for me, this was evident in that shoot out and we were off, into the quarter final of the League Cup. Two days later we were at it again against Maccabi Haifa in the Europa League. After their early equaliser, it was plain sailing and some lovely football was played on our way to the 7-2 romp. Football, it’s a funny old game. A year to the day since the 2-7 drubbing against Bayern Munich, and we were dishing out the punishment to the Israelis. Admittedly, it was against a far poorer caliber of opposition but, nonetheless, games such as these get the pulse racing. And then old Trafford. 1-6. Wow. What a pleasure it was to see United put to the sword on their home patch – recompense for years of frustrating results at their hands. Up next was the West Ham game – ah the proverbial game of two halves. At half time I thought we were in for a cricket score; alas, we weren’t, and after letting them back in the game, a wonder strike left us with a sickening draw that felt too much like a defeat. And after that a rally of sorts – unglamorous wins away at Burnley and home to Brighton and away to WBA left us us sitting pretty in the table. As with Spurs, there’s always a sense of what might have been and I can’t help but envision the league table if those 2 points verses Newcastle and West Ham were 6pts as they should have been. Ifs. Buts. Maybes. “If ifs were spliffs we’d all be high” – but I hope to God that a Champions League spot or – god forbid – silver is missed out on because of those two results. Sport is full of hard luck stories; let’s hope Spurs don’t have one this year. But fresh off the back of 2-0 win verses Man City and sitting pretty at the top of the table, you can’t help but start to believe it could be our year…

Time to brace ourselves…

The post international break run of fixtures for us doesn’t make for pretty reading. No bones about it, it will make or break our season in terms of the league. But the string of fixtures that got the naysayers doubting us and our rivals rubbing their hands has started brilliantly – a 2-0 victory over Man City, courtesy of goals from Sonny and Lo Celso. Nevertheless, there’s no time to rest on our laurels: up next is Chelsea (A), Arsenal (H), Liverpool (A), Leicester (H) and Wolves (A) before the fixture list becomes more palatable. We play Palace in between Arsenal and Liverpool so would hope for 3 points there. As tough as Leicester and Wolves are, if we’re going to where I hope we are I’d expect 6 points from those games. As for Arsenal, Chelsea and Liverpool, dare I suggest that 5 points from those fixtures would keep us happy enough. That would leave us with 14 points from a possible 18 – and I envisage we could ride off into the New Year with ourselves very much still in the mix for the league. Oh – and we’d need to ensure that we beat Stoke in the EFL Cup Quarters just before Christmas so we don’t sully the festive season for ourselves.

Transfer business paying dividends

Regarding our transfers, the new boys seem to be settling in well. For me, Højbjerg seems to be the pick of them. Solid rather than spectacular – he seems to be a throw back of a player. Tough, niggly and an old school, no-nonsense player who does the basics well, he’s a player that this Spurs side badly needed. Admittedly, his debut against Everton was one to forget but since then he has been assured and has grown in stature and is arguably one of the first names on the team sheet. He has been immense. He’s still guilty of surrendering possession now and again, but every match he asserts his dominance and is becoming one of the side’s stand out players. On the flanks, Reggie is an absolute gem who seems to be able to do it all. It will be a great couple of years with him in the side – and I fully expect him to register a number of assists this season. As for Matt Doherty, he seems to have struggled somewhat to regain the form seen at Wolves over the last couple of years – before being struck down by a positive COVID test. However, an assist in the victory against WBA in the last outing before the international break bodes well and is hopefully something we’ll see more of. Gareth Bale – TOTTENHAM’S Gareth Bale – continues to grow in confidence and quality and there’s no doubt that prime Bale is currently “loading”. Growing in stature, what a moment it was when he rose to head the winner against Brighton at the stadium. It was beautiful – made all the more glorious for the 7 year parenthesis since his last one. With more football under his belt for Wales in the Nations League, I hope he begins to hit his straps in the next run of fixtures. Then the “Joes”: Hart has done well in the Europa; he comes across as an experienced voice who’s added more winner’s mentality to the squad. Rodon has yet to really feature – but with Sanchez’s fallibilities all too evident in defence, it’s only a matter of time before Rodon features more and more – especially when he will be eligible for the Europa League squad. I’ll put it out there now: Rodon may well be our first choice centre back by the season’s end. Against Ireland last weekend, some of his tackles were superb and would be more than enough to get the Spurs faithful purring. And then there’s Vinnie up top. He’s looked good in flashes – although it was always going to be a struggle being an understudy to Harry Kane. He’s sure to get enough game time in Europe and I think he’ll still play an important role in the squad this year. A couple of goals, and he’ll be on his way.

Harry and Sonny: A pair for the ages…

And finally, a review of the season so far couldn’t be written without a word on Harry and Sonny. What a partnership they are carving out – a partnership that will go down as one of the most potent in Premier League history – not just Spurs’. Their partnership has yielded 9 goals this season; 29 goals in total. If both can stay fit and keep up their rich vein of form then who knows where they’re partnership can take us this year. But for now, we’re top of the league and all seems well in N17.

A huge couple of months await…

Andy, South Wales. November ‘20

So after a 7 year hiatus, Gareth Bale returns to Spurs. Forgive this blog, at times it may read like the rambling’s of a madman; a stream of consciousness from an overexcited fan, but here are some of the factors worth noting as he makes his long awaited return to North London.

Like A Kid At Christmas

“Never go back”, they say, but thank god that Bale has gone against this mantra and returned to North London. I’m a 33 year old father of two, but on Tuesday evening I was as giddy as a little kid on Christmas Eve, buzzing about the breaking news that it was looking like Bale was on his way back. I could barely get to sleep, thinking about how his return could herald a change of fortunes for the club. Being a Welsh Spurs fan, I’m not alone in holding Bale in such high regard. Over the years, when we inevitably were linked with him during every transfer window, I used to hope that he’d join – accepting the fact that it was a pipe dream and extremely unlikely to happen. This summer though, the feeling was different, the tide seemed to have changed. The fallout with Madrid and Zidane had been so toxic a move had to be on the cards. Where could he go? China? PSG? Manchester? Surely, a return back home made sense – for both club and player. Check my tweets, I suggested it was on for months, only to be scoffed at and to be told the usual ‘this ain’t Football Manager’. Well, look who’s laughing now…

Klinsmann and Bale

There’s always a special admiration for past players who return to the fold. Klinsmann. Sheringham. Keane. Defoe. All returned from varying spells away from the club, and all experienced different levels of ‘success’ on their return. As a kid – I was ecstatic when Klinsmann came back to rescue our season in 1997/8 – his four goals against Wimbledon being one of my abiding memories of Spurs growing up. Today, Spurs may be unrecognisable to Bale: a billion pound stadium, new coaches and new players alike (only Lloris and Kane remain from his first spell) – but Bale is still Tottenham through and through. On the eve of last year’s Champions League final, his comments regarding ‘us’ and ‘Spurs’ was his attempt to flutter his eyelids our way. United wanted him, but sources close to Bale say that Spurs is the only place he wanted to be. Regarding this week’s developments, I genuinely believe there’s an agenda against Spurs from some quarters of the sporting press. Some outlets have labelled the move anything from a “panic buy” to a transfer that is simply “papering over the cracks”. At 31 he’s been labelled “past it” – whereas new contracts for the likes of Aubameyang (31) and Willian (32) have been seen as decent business for Arsenal. The frenzy around Messi joining Man City was insane. He’s 33. If Liverpool were signing Bale, no doubt Sky Sports would have created a new channel for the unveiling and would have dedicated 24/7 coverage to all facets of the deal. But ‘cause it’s Spurs, there’s always some caveat or disclaimer with the deal. Incredulously, even some Spurs fans have argued that they don’t want him back as ‘he’s lost his love for the game’ and ‘injury prone’. Constantly, I’d ask them to study his Wales form. When playing with teammates who value him, for a manager who trusts him, for fans who adore him, he is still one hell of a player. Will he be the prime Bale we sold for that record fee back in 2013? No. Will he be a player that will unlock defences and provide goals and assists when given the chance? Certainly. Will he help us to pick up some much coveted silverware? Possibly. He’s won countless trophies at Madrid – and it seems to be an increasing requisite these days that Spurs signings have some experience winning trophies – something that has not been in our club’s DNA for so, so long.

The Details

Regarding Mourinho, his arrival – along with Reguilon – is much like a double edged sword. On one hand, the wealth of attacking talent at his disposal would dictate that he should get results. However, if the season stutters, choppy waters await. He’s been backed by Levy – and Levy will expect results, as will the fanbase. If he doesn’t get them, we may well see calls for a change at the top and a winter of discontent. From a simple cutthroat, business perspective, the loan deal makes sense. Subsidised wages, if the season doesn’t go to plan then we can walk away after the deal ends. It’s currently being reported that Spurs will pay 40% of his 500k-600k a week wages – in effect £15m-16m for the year. Even by Levy’s standards, that’s some deal. And if he’s a hit – as I predict he will be – he’ll be a much more affordable player next summer – with a year less left on his contract and the good times can continue.

A Front 3 for the Ages…

Hopefully, the arrival of Bale will be a much needed kick up the backside that some players need. Son and Lucas in particular have seemed to have been coasting of late – so some much needed competition should breed some form. It remains to be seen where he’ll play, but the options he brings to attacking stakes are clear to see. For the few Spurs fans who don’t want him, if the thought of Kane, Bale and Son doesn’t excite you, you may as well pack up your things and go home, this club (and game) is not for you. No hyperbole, it’ll be one of the best – if not the best – and most potent attacking forces in the league. After the abject performance against Everton on the weekend, his arrival is a much needed boost for the whole squad and fan base. He’ll need time to get up to match fitness, but with the glut of games over the next few weeks, hopefully it won’t be too long until he’s up to speed. Some have pointed to his injury record – but I’d see it as a positive. Stick with me: in some respects he’s rested and my impression is that after being mistreated by Madrid, any niggle that he had lead to his own, self imposed omission from the squad – niggles that he’d play through at Spurs. Also, as blasphemous as it may sound, I’d back him to play more games than Harry Kane in a full Premier League season.

The Homecoming

And finally, a word on the man himself. A couple of weeks ago, a fellow Welsh Spurs fan messaged me a thread about information he had on Bale from an acquaintance (it’s a well worn cliche that everyone in Wales knows everyone!) – about how he was trying to orchestrate a move back to Spurs, negotiating how owed wages could be offset by all parties involved. He didn’t make it public (neither did I) but he pointed to a range of close contacts to Bale who claimed negotiations were in motion and that he saw himself as a Spur. The thing about ITKs – is that most of the real ITKs (minus the big guns like ‘Here We Go’ Fabrizio Romano!) don’t publicise their knowledge to all and sundry – and this guy (you know who you are!) called the whole deal down to a tee – even messaging me to say the medical was taking place in Madrid to speed up the deal a full day before the medical news broke. With Bale, earning £600,000 a week must allow you to gain some sort of perspective. Set for life, it was not inconceivable that Bale would take a pay cut of sorts to return to Spurs and to get regular football under his belt. A lot was said about Bale sitting in the stands at Madrid, seemingly being churlish as he was ignored by Zidane. But as I’ve said numerous times before, at any other club in the world they’d be putting up statues of the man after some of the goals and exploits he’s delivered up over the years. They wanted him off their books – but so what? They gave him a contract worth £600,000 per week; it’s their decision if they didn’t want to play him or not but why should they expect him to give it up just ‘cause they changed their mind? As for his return, the move makes sense for Bale, Spurs – and Wales. Admittedly, and understandably, in this month’s games against Finland and Bulgaria, he did seem off the pace somewhat. I get the impression that next year’s Euro Championships has been a factor as Bale will want to be at peak sharpness for the championships. Playing for Spurs should facilitate this; staying at Madrid would not. I’ve got friends and family who aren’t Spurs fans but they too are excited by the transfer, acknowledging the benefit it could lend to Wales. Add in the fact that he’ll be closer to friends (it’s a well known fact that Bale still remains close with many school friends from his days at Whitchurch High) and family, and his return makes more and more sense.

What a day. What a bit of business.

Welcome home, Gareth.

Andy, South Wales/Dreamland, September 2020

Soon after ‘Project Restart’ began, hopes for a Champions’ League spot for Spurs soon evaporated after a string of lacklustre and turgid performances. With talk of our record signing being flogged in the summer, no signs of life in the transfer market and Jose’s stale style of football being decried – it was threatening to turn into Spurs’ Summer of discontent, compounded by rumours swirling around about a ‘Levy Out’ banner being flown above the stadium in the North London Derby. However, a string of impressive victories and a resurgence in Harry Kane’s fortunes has left the Spurs’ faithful with some small crumbs of comfort as we look forward to the start of ‘next’ season in a few week’s time. As always with sport – and particularly, Spurs – it’s the hope that kills you. But, of course, it’s what keeps you coming back for more, season after season.

Tightening Up At The Back

A characteristic of Jose Mourinho’s football is based on a solid defence and that is something that has not always been the case with Spurs sides. This year we have haemorrhaged a glut of goals but towards the end of the campaign, the indications were that Mourinho was starting to work his magic at the back. Since the restart, we recorded 4 clean sheets and performances (Sheffield United aside) where we’ve conceded fewer goals and looked more comfortable at the back. Eric Dier seems to be Jose’s first choice centre back; he seems like a player rejuvenated under Jose’s tutelage. He wanted him when he was at United, and it was a shame that a 4 game ban was imposed on him as he had looked effective since the restart – and hopefully this good form continues into next season. It should also be said that Sanchez and Toby have also impressed in certain games – and if we can recruit some quality at full back, hopefully we’ll be even stronger. Many have also pointed to the work that Ledley King has been doing too and this bodes well now that he has been made an official part of the coaching setup. The hope is that as we begin next season, we become a hard team to break down and don’t give goals away too easily. As an avid Welsh rugby fan, I used to find it strange when Warren Gatland’s style of play used to be termed negatively by some parts of the press and fan base as “Warrenball”: a seemingly stale, robotic and turgid style of rugby – based on solid defence but, in particular, big runners crashing up the field rather than an exciting, expansive style of play. Stick with me, the point I’m making is that it was successful. He won 3 Grandslams and Lions tours based on it. Sure, sometimes it wouldn’t reap victories – particularly against the best teams in the world – but Wales became one of the major forces of World rugby under his tenure. Regarding Jose’s Spurs, in someways I view his style of football a little like ‘Warrenball’. ‘Joseball’ might not get the pulse racing and be the most exciting game going, but so long as we grind out wins I can’t see the problem. Pundits were quick to point out our lack of possession in recent victories but the point still stands. So long as we’re picking up 3 points, the style of football doesn’t really matter. We had the most possession in our most recent final – the Champions League vs Liverpool – but that stat didn’t offer much comfort when we were watching Liverpool lift the trophy. Purists might refer to the ‘Tottenham Way’ of playing a certain brand of football, but if that’s reaped just one solitary trophy in the last 20 years, then perhaps a change of tack is needed.

Flair Going Forward

Now if Jose can get us sorted at the back, logic dictates that we’ll become a very good – and successful – side with all the attacking flair and prowess that we possess. Now I’ve hailed Jose’s defensive qualities – but his teams over the years have occasionally won leagues with record amounts of goals scored too. The potential to score bucketfuls is clear: Kane and Son are arguably two of the best attacking players in the land. Personally, I think Stevie Bergwin looks a class act too – someone who should get a load of goals and assists in a successful side. If Mourinho can get Dele playing back to somewhere near his best, he and Le Celso would add to an embarrassment of riches in the attacking stakes – and that’s before we consider any transfer business too. With the increased demand on players next year in the ‘shortened’ Covid season and with Europa League games coming thick and fast, the likes of Moura and Lamela could play their part too. In the last the last few games of the season, Moura’s increased work rate was evident – signs perhaps that he’s beginning to recover form following his hangover from his heroics in Amsterdam last May. Now you can only pick 11 players in your starting lineup of course, but competition breeds success. Look at the likes of Man City. With a wealth of talent, it’s a case of ‘Pep’s Roulette’ most weeks, with big names finding themselves on the bench from time to time. A strong bench can only be a good thing that will help propel us to where we want to be as a football club.

Signs of Life in the Transfer Market

Ahh, promising movements in the transfer market. Now being Spurs fans, we’ve become accustomed to frustrations in the transfer market. But, although the transfer rumour circus is par for the course at every club during off season, I get the impression that Levy WILL back Mourinho – despite worries about the financial aspect of the Covid pandemic. The Pierre-Emile Højbjerg saga seems like it will get over the line. Although not an earth shuddering, marquee signing, he seems the sort of player we need at the moment. Someone who can protect the back four and let the attacking chaos ensue ahead of him. Reports suggests that Mourinho is happy with the left back situation – but the mercurial Serge Aurier certainly divides opions on the right and new blood is clearly needed there. Going forward, reports suggest we might be in for Roma’s Nicolo Zaniolo and QPR’s Eberechi Eze – two players who would undoubtedly bring more quality. And then there’s freebies: Russian star Artem Dzyuba stands out as the sort of back up for Kane that would add quality up top and would be content to spend some considerable time on the bench. Long story short, hopefully Jose can use the funds at his disposal to help put his stamp on the side and get us ticking. He has to! Only once he has done that, can the Spurs faithful, whatever their disposition is regarding him, judge him fairly. I just hope I don’t look back on this blog at the end of September to find we’ve signed no one in the off season.

Europa League Football

Over the past few seasons, we’ve revelled in goading Arsenal over their Thursday night Europa exploits whilst we’ve be living the dream in the Champions League. Well, next year it’s our turn for Thursday night football – and I can’t understand the Spurs fans who don’t want it. Admittedly, we will have to play a significant portion of our games on Sundays, but the argument that being in the competition would impact upon our league form falls down when you consider that we finished a disappointing 6th this year. Add into the mix that winning the tournament leads to automatic qualification for the Champions League and the importance of finishing 4th in the league is also negated. Unless you’re expecting us to genuinely win the Premier League, I can’t see why you’d be against us being in the Europa. On the opposite end of the spectrum from those who don’t want us in the Europa, there’s a selection of fans who seem to think we only need to qualify for the tournament and we’ll automatically win it. I’m a realist, and Europa success would only be achieved after a long hard slog to the far ends of Europe and some very challenging games against iconic clubs in the later stages – but the omens are there. Mourinho has managed teams in the competition twice and won it twice; his joy at qualifying for the tournament at the full time whistle against Palace was clear to see – he knows that he can lead Spurs to silverware. We’ve finally shaken off our semi final hoodoo – and have a wealth of experience of playing on the European stage. And logic would state that a team that reached the Champions League final just over a year ago would have good odds to win the Europa League. Silverware has eluded Tottenham Hotspur for far too long but, arguably, the Europa League would present us with our best chance of winning something next year. The random nature of the draw may present opportunities where Mourinho can ‘blood’ youngsters in order for them to gain experience too. Oh, and in the current financial climate following the Covid pandemic, the estimated £40m revenue we’ll receive from the competition is not to be sniffed at…

Youth and the Future

Perhaps long term is where the hope really lies. Jose has already indicated that Oliver Skipp, Dennis Cirkin and Harvey White will all play a part next season and hopefully Troy Parrot can be loaned out to a team that can aid his development and he can get regular first team football. Regarding loans, whoever is loaned out, the role the process played in the development of Harry Kane is clear to see and it’s a valuable tool in the long term plans for the club. Moreover, Japhet Tanganga has signed a new contract and from what we’ve seen so far, it’s hard not to get excited about how good a player he can become. Some transfer business this summer and over the last couple of seasons also points to the future. We’ve just signed 15 year old Alfie Devine from Wigan for £300,000; admittedly I haven’t seen him play but by all accounts he is a gem of a player, already standing out whilst playing Under 23 football. Kion Etete was signed from Notts County last year in much the same vein – quality young players who are sure to have great futures ahead of them. I just hope they are part of the long term plan for success at Spurs, rather than being investments that will be purposefully ‘cashed in’ by Levy before their potential reaches fruition.

So, roll on 2020-21. Will this year be a season in which we finally get our hands on some much needed silverware? Or is it set to be another season of disappointments and what-might-have-beens. We haven’t got long to wait until we begin to find out. Once more unto the breach, dear Spurs fans…

Bridgend, July 2020

June’s rolled around, let the games commence – or at least that was the plan. No one could have foreseen the global COVID-19 pandemic that has put paid to the glorious would-be summer of sport and kiboshed this summer’s European Championships. In the absence of it, I’ve decided to take a trip down memory lane, rewind the clock 4 years and to revisit arguably the zenith of Welsh Football, the 2016 European Championships…”

A Child of the Football Famine…

In my late 20s, when the 2016 European Champions rolled around, I had longed to see my nation play in a major championship on the world stage. Being a Spurs fan is tough; being a Welsh Spurs fan is even more unbearable. If the Euros were the pinnacle of Welsh football, the 90s were arguably the nadir. Welsh football – despite global stars such as Ryan Giggs, Mark Hughes and Nevill Southall – had been stuck in the doldrums. Mercifully, I can’t remember the Paul Bodin penalty heartbreak that would see us miss out on the World Cup in the USA in ‘94 but my recollections began not long after that agonising moment. My earliest memory of Wales was losing to Moldova in 1994. As the 90s turned into the new millennium and Welsh rugby rallied, a national tournament still eluded the Welsh Football team. There were encouraging signs: a great run of form in 2002 saw us beat the likes of Italy and Germany and draw with Argentina but our chances of qualifying for the 2004 Euros were evaporated as a two-leg playoff was lost to Russia – compounded by the fact that they had a drugs cheat in their ranks. With the relative quality of the squad and some of the results we’d had, a sense of ‘if not now, then when?’ prevailed. I, along with thousands of other Welsh fans, genuinely wondered if we’d ever qualify for for a major tournamanent again. A young Pele had broken our hearts in the World Cup in 1958 but the grainy black and white images of that tournament are too far distant and detached to offer any comfort to Welsh fans today. If you told me then in ‘04 that it’d be another 12 years before we’d qualify, I’d have sunk even lower into my stupor.

A Rocky Start

But the qualifying process for Euro 2016 didn’t get off to the best start. We were 1-0 down to part timers Andorra in our first match – staring into the abyss before a Gareth Bale brace saved our blushes. From then on, we played some good football, but you still couldn’t really imagine us qualifying. My brother in law and I have been gluttons for punishment for the past 10 years or so – attending all home Wales games – and when we managed to beat Belgium 1-0 at home in a qualifier we really did start to believe that we were on the cusp of qualifying for a major tournament. A few games later, it was secured and we could begin to get ready for the following summer…

A First Taste of Tournament Football

Put bluntly, English fans are used to watching their team in major tournaments every two years – Welsh fans aren’t. So when game day against Slovakia rolled around, on a Saturday of all days, it was our turn to savour the major tournament experience. I remember waking up on the morning, excitement levels full to brim and sweet anticipation in the air. A couple of hours before kick off, filing into a local pub, it was a surreal experience – about to see our boys perform on the world stage. We’d do it every February, March and November to watch the rugby internationals – but this time, with a football side playing for something that mattered and about to put everything on the line, was different. A Bale free kick sent us into raptures, before a second half Slovakia equaliser saw them gain parity on the scoreboard before taking the game by the scruff of the neck. I didn’t think we’d hold on, but then up stepped Hal Robson Kanu to scuff his shot into the turf before it eventually rolled into the net. Not only had we played on the world stage – we’d won a game as well!

The Olde Enemy

After that was the small matter of the England game. Unlike with rugby, fixtures between the old enemies come few and far between so the whole country was ready for it. However, luck would have it that the game would be played on a Wednesday…at 2pm. With thousands bunking off work, my profession as a school teacher meant that I couldn’t really take the cliched match day ‘sickee’. Instead, our school had classrooms full of excited school kids baying for a Welsh victory (and a few pockets of vocal English supporters) as we watched online – our screens buffering and freezing throughout the whole match. Once again, it was a Gareth Bale free kick that gave us the lead and up until half time things were almost going too smoothly. We had been on top, and were good value for the lead. As I said though, it almost seemed too easy, it was just too straightforward – but you start to believe and let yourself get carried away. So when goals from Jamie Vardy and Daniel Sturridge agonisingly pissed on the party, black clouds of despair threatened. Still, a result against Russia the following Monday would see us qualify for the knock-out stages and all eyes turned to Toulouse…

Russian Rout

As Welshmen, rugby provides us with enough of a fix of must win fixtures, but with football it’s a rarity and all too often ends in tears. So I viewed the Russian game with a degree of hopeful anticipation – but whatever the result – win, lose or draw – I’d say the collective thirst for major tournament football had been satiated. However, what proceeded to happen on that Monday evening was one of the most dominant displays of European Championship football that I can remember. I don’t think it’s hyperbole or blind patriotism. The COVID-19 lockdown has seen a whole host of games being replayed on the BBC and watching the rerun, it’s mad how dominant we were. Ramsey, Taylor and Bale were the scorers but the whole squad were imperious that night. We had qualified for the knockout stages and had even topped the group! As the final whistle blew, in a fit of reckless abandon, a few phone calls were made, Euro tunnel tickets booked and extortionate match tickets for the quarter final were purchased on Viagogo. The plan was perfect – but I was pretty sheepish the next morning when I had to go and ask the Head at School for the Friday afternoon off. Mercifully, he relented…

From Paris, with Love

We embarked on our quarter final trip to France on the 24th June. It was the day after the EU Referendum. Britain had voted leave – but we were going the other direction and that’s all I could think of on the morning as Britain came to terms with leaving the EU. We left for France in the early afternoon, red dragons sitting proudly on our chests and obligatory yellow, green and red bucket hats on our head. It was the start of a brilliant adventure, Welsh flags waving proudly as we made our way down the M4 before getting over the bridge and making our way down to the Euro Tunnel at Dover. Filling up for petrol at Cardiff Gate, we saw Scott Quinell, Welsh rugby legend, who wished us well on our journey. On the Euro Star, there were impromptu 5 a side matches between various Welsh fans as beers were sunk, the Manic Street Preacher’s “Come on Wales” seemingly being played on repeat by various car radios. Through delays and wrong turns, we eventually got to Paris around 2am – promptly assembled our tents at the caravan park and tried to get a few hours sleep before the fun began. We awoke early and were soon making our way to the city centre to see where a pint could be found. Looking back at the pictures as we traversed the Champs-Élysées and drank beers in front of the Eiffel Tower decked out in red, it really was the time of our supporting lives! More beers were sunk, tickets collected, and with the risk of tempting fate, victory cigars purchased for after the match. At the game against Northern Ireland, all the travelling and…er… excitement meant that I actually fell asleep during most of the first half. I’ll often say it’s one of the most expensive naps I’ve had. But at half time, some more refreshments and a stern talk in the mirror meant that I was alert and ready for the 2nd half. It was such a nervy match, as the Ulstermen sat back and frustrated us. When Bale’s 75th minute cross was eventually turned into the net by Northern Ireland’s own McAuley, the Welsh masses erupted – helping the boys to hold on ‘til the end. I have to say, the Northern Irish fans, vociferous during the game, were arguably even louder at the final whistle, the chant of “Will Grieg’s On Fire…” ringing throughout the stadium concourses and long into the Parisian night. We had a long night, revelling in the victory – and it was a long trip home the next day, and a long day in work on the Monday!

Stopped Clocks and Chopped Logic

Before the Belgium game, I remember driving home from work on a warm summer evening. Windows down, the sun was shining and excitement hung in the air, ready for the spectacle that lay ahead. I was tuned in to Radio Wales to soak up the pre-match atmosphere out in France as I drove along the M4. Some guest – I can’t remember who – was talking about how the tournament had been even better than anyone could have envisioned and that he felt somewhat emotional that other fans and family members, dead and gone, weren’t around to witness the spectacle. That resonated with me. My grandfather had been dead 20 odd years but I remember watching that infamous Moldova game at his house – my old man and him discussing how poor Wales were. And that’s the beauty of sport; they’re collective experiences, made all the more euphoric or despairing because of the hundreds, thousands of people who share the emotions with you. I wondered what he would have made of it all, so unbelievable that it all was. The mind couldn’t help drift off and think of Gary Speed too, so integral he had been to developing the Wales team into the competitive and talented side that it was before his tragic and untimely death. If the summer had delivered beyond expectations, the game that followed on that evening was one for the ages – a game to stop clocks and chop logic. We went 1-0 down but I was philosophical: we’d reached the quarter finals; created memories to last a lifetime; won admirers from around the world. Belgium were favourites for the whole tournament. If we were going to lose we may as well lose to them! But then, the beautiful chaos began: Williams heads the equaliser and we have the better of the rest of the first half. The second half begins and we’re creating chances, asking questions continuously. An then, THAT goal. That beautiful goal. Hal Robson Kanu receives the ball in the box, turns – Cruyff-esque – and sends 4 or so Belgian defenders for a walk before coolly slotting the finish home. 2-1, and we’re hoping, wishing, praying for Wales to hold on. And then, as the minutes tick away, Chris Gunter swings in a cross and Sam Vokes glances in a sublime header. 3-1 up. 3-1 up!? Against Belgium? In a European Championship Quarterfinal? Even the most sceptical of Welsh fans know that we are about to do it and reach the semi finals of a major tournament. Grown men in tears, kids are woken from their slumber by fanatical cheering parents and the Welsh journey rumbles on…

The Party Ends

And then it all ended. Portugal in the semi final, we were always going to be up against it. A ground swell of national optimism had been tempered with the worry that a winner’s streak must always come to an end, the luck always runs out. As they say, at sometime the party has to stop. This was compounded by the fact that some stars would be unavailable for the game. Aaron Ramsey had arguably been our standout player of the tournament and, Spurs bias aside, Ben Davies had been integral to the 3 at the back on which our game plan had been based on. Both missed the semi through suspension – and ultimately the game was a bridge too far for the squad. It was a nervy encounter, but we created our chances in the first half, and with it being 0-0 at half time we still believed. However, as Ronaldo rose in the 50th minute and seemingly hung in the air for an eternity, it was as if time stopped before the net bulged. James Collins – Davies’ replacement – had done a fine job marking arguably the best player in the world but the levee had to break sometime. In truth, the game was up, and 3 minutes later da Cunha latched on to a wayward pass to beat Hennessy and make it 2-0. What a wonderful adventure it had all been – but it was now at an end. Who knows what we could have done against France in the final, who Portugal would go on to beat. Could we have beaten them on our day and won the 2016 European Championships? Absolutely. But, alas, it wasn’t to be…

A Year in Parenthesis

And here we are, 4 years later. Ready to go – but life on pause, a year in parenthesis. It’s only football, of course, and the current pandemic has certainly illustrated how there are more important things in life. But life is all the more colourful and united for games such as football. In the camp, changes have happened of course – Coleman gone; Giggs in. The big guns of Bale and Ramsay still there – and exciting additions such as Ethan Ampadu, Kiefer Moore and Joe Rodon making their presence felt. And the delay will help us too – Joe Allen will be set to return after being due to miss this year through injury. Liverpool’s Neco Williams will have gained another year of first class, senior football. Bournemouth’s David Brooks will be back to full fitness, well equipped to strut his stuff on the European stage. So we wait, dream of games yet to come, check dates and fixtures, and book flights. More good times are on their way. Roll on 2021…

With bleak news updates seemingly every few minutes at the moment, it underlines , if it was needed, how football in the grand scheme of things, is just a game. But as a welcome distraction to the news, I’d now like to cover some of the stranger, bizarre and sometimes ‘Ugly’ stories involving Spurs over the last couple of decades…

Pedro’s Phantom Goal

“January 4th, 2005” – a date that will live in infamy for Tottenham Hotspur supporters. That was the night when our Portuguese playmaker Pedro Mendes would go down in football folklore – for all the wrong reasons from Tottenham’s point of view. In the dying minutes at a weeknight clash at Old Trafford, with the score standing at 0-0, the ball dropped to Mendes’ feet. On seeing Utd keeper Roy Carroll scuttling back to his line after a little foray outside of his box, Mendes let loose, half volleying the ball goal-bound, high up into the Manchester night. Looping, it hit Carroll on the chest and bounced over the goaline, only for Carroll to scurry frantically on his hands and knees to swipe the ball away, back into play. In the years before VAR and goal-line technology, the game played on, the officials powerless to do anything. Sky Sports viewers, however, had the benefit of countless slow motion replays (not that they were needed) which showed the ball a good 3 foot (literally!) over the line! The commentators were incensed, trying to convey the injustice that was unfolding before their very eyes. The game ended 0-0, but I remember being apoplectic with rage at the whole debacle. It was “Spursy” personified. If it had been the other way around I would have bet my life on the decision being given in United’s favour. We’d been deprived of a famous win at Old Trafford – and a classic ‘what happened next moment’ was created. Mercifully, in terms of the season, it didn’t make much of a difference regarding the standings: with the extra 2 points we would have jumped above Man City and would have been level on points and goal difference with Middlesbrough for 7th place; Utd would have still finished third. As for poor Pedro, he was involved in yet another incident that would go down in English footballing folklore. Playing for Pompey against Man City a couple of seasons later, he was assaulted by a flying elbow from (former Spurs’ and Wales’!) Ben Thatcher that would leave him unconscious and needing a stay in hospital. Look it up on YouTube – it’s practically GBH and it still makes the blood run cold.

Poor Pony Kit

Now some fans will find this decision a contentious one but I’ve decided to include Spurs’ late 90’s Pony kits in the ‘ugly’ review. Now as a lad, my first experience with Spurs coincided, in my humble opinion, with the heyday of Spurs kits. They were classics for a number of reasons: Made by Umbro – Umbro was the classic 90s sports brand. Any team worth their salt had them as their kit makers. They also had the iconic Tottenham Hotspur sponsor: ‘Holsten’ – the lager that was, and still is, synonymous with the club. Thirdly, the kits came in three classic Spurs colours: white, purple and yellow. They were a thing of beauty, works of art that still cause the pulse to quicken for some Spurs fans even to this day! So, when little known Sportswear company ‘Pony’ took on the mantle in the late 90s, my heart sank. I was devastated. Now, Pony were up against it from the start: iconic ‘Holsten’ had been replaced by ‘Hewlett Packard’ as main sponsors, instantly lowering the strip’s cool factor. They just didn’t look right. Add in to the mix that we’d gone from Umbro – THE iconic football brand of the era – to Pony and the misery was just compounded. As a kid, I’d always been Spurs mad and would love my annual Spurs kit that I’d invariably receive at Christmas – and I duly had my share of Pony kits and merchandise. But walking around with ‘Pony’ emblazoned across the back of my training top whilst traipsing around secondary school just didn’t fill me with much confidence or swagger. Indeed, I saw a promo poster recently of official training gear that the club were flogging around 1996 – and some of designs should have come with a public health warning. It was a relief, a few years later, when the club reverted back to ‘Holsten’ as main sponsors – and Adidas took on the reigns in terms of kit manufacturing. In all fairness, I think the Pony kits have got better with age. On my trip up to the new stadium last year, I saw a couple of retro Pony tops and they looked… well…good. Indeed, when I suggested that the Pony kits were a little ugly on Twitter a few weeks ago, quite a couple of people defended their honour, particularly the purple striped one! But still, they were not a patch on the iconic strips that preceded them.

Lasagne-Gate

Now one of the most gut-wrenchingly bizarre episodes to happen to Tottenham in recent times was the lasagne-gate debacle of 2006. To set the scene, it was the final day of the season and at the start of play, we occupied 4th place and the all the important coveted Champions League spot. All we had to do was match Arsenal’s result and we’d be going into Champions League dreamland for the first time in the club’s history. Now in 2006, we were a world away from the team that would qualify for consecutive Champions League football frequently during the 2010s. He wasn’t a Redknapp or a Pochettino, but our manager Martin Jol had been a tonic – taking over the reins from Jacque Santini and turning Spurs in to a competitive side who regularly asked questions of the league’s bigger boys and played some lovely football. Our opponents on the last day of the season were West Ham – not our main rivals of course, but a team who class their two games against us each year as their cup finals, a team that would revel in being the Spurs party poopers, so to speak. I was on a Rugby tour in Limerick at the time – as a green 19 year old – but I was about to turn greener on that Sunday afternoon as news started to filter in that, on the previous night, around 10 of the Spurs squad had succumbed to sickness and diarrhoea at the team’s hotel. Reports suggested that the cause of the illness had been a dodgy lasagne from the hotel and, although Spurs had requested a delayed kick off (some reports suggested that the club only wanted a couple of hours delay!), we were told that we would have to fulfil the fixture or would face a points deduction. Many of our key stars and playmakers fell foul to the illness: Carrick, Tainio, Davids, Keane, Lennon and Dawson – all were afflicted, all rendered powerless. As the Sunday afternoon played out, the inevitable unfolded as a visibly weakened Spurs team struggled in a fast paced London derby, going down 2-1, whilst Arsenal romped to a 4-2 win over Wigan in their last ever fixture at Highbury. Having clung on to 4th spot for the majority of the season, it was a bitter pill to swallow. As for Jol, the following year he was unceremoniously sacked by the board, the rumours suggesting that he found out about his fate via a text from a family member at half time in a Europa League fixture – a sad and unjust end for a man that had taken Spurs to the cusp of Europe’s elite. In another cruel blow, it would be another 4 years until we would finally qualify for the Champions League…

New Rules, Same Old Heartache

A neutral football fan, whilst reading this blog, may detect a sense of morose self pity but, the fact remains, that there is categorical evidence to underline the fact that Spurs have had more hard luck stories than your average club. Two such incidents clearly demonstrating this relate to Chelsea. The first incident occurred during a League Cup semi final in 2019. Winning 1-0 from the first leg, we headed to Stamford Bridge with the hope of reaching our first final for 4 years. However, we started poorly and found ourselves down 2-0 as we went in for the half time oranges. Yet, against the run of play, we hit back early in the second half as Fernando Llorente scored on the 50th minute to level up proceedings. Now a brief glance at the history books will tell you that since the 1980/81 season, League Cup semi finals had employed the ‘away goal’ rule – whereby if the aggregate scores were level at the end of the second leg – the team that had scored the most away goals in the overall tie would progress in the competition. I reiterate, for every season since 1980/81 this had been the case…until 2019. You don’t need to be a mathematician to twig that in usual circumstances, we would have progressed to the final because of Llorente’s strike. Yet, the new away goal rule change cruelly scuppered our plans and as the game entered extra time and eventually went to penalties, it was clear that a hard luck Spursy story was unfolding before our very eyes. We had lost yet another semi final, missing out on a rare chance of silverware. However, the semi final injustice pales into insignificance when compared to what fate befell us at the end of the season in 2012. We had finished 4th in the league, but our Champions League qualification was not secured as Chelsea still needed to play their Champions League final against Bayern Munich the following week. Years ago, victory in the Champions League did not mean automatic qualification for the following season’s competition for the victors. So, if a team finished outside the top 4 in England but won Europe’s elite competition, then they would be unable to defend their title. But then Liverpool muddied the water in 2005. They won the Champion’s League but had finished 5th in the league so UEFA had to hastily rearrange the rules to allow 5 English clubs into the competition the following season. However, by 2012, a UEFA decree stated that only 4 English teams could qualify in a given year. Crucially, to cut a long story short, if Chelsea beat Bayern Munich in the final then they would qualify for the following season’s competition – despite only finishing 6th in the League – at Spurs’ expense. That said, a Blues win in the final was unlikely. Bayern were the in form team in Europe that year and ‘odds on’ favourites. The final was even being played at their home ground, the Allianz Arena. Harry Redknapp even felt confident enough to quip that Chelsea wouldn’t win the Champions League in the build up to the game. But, as with so many Spurs stories over the years, Lady Luck was not on our side – and the pain was visceral. I was at a family wedding at the time and kept popping out of the party to see the unfolding drama on TV. Bayern scored early and looked to be heading for the victory, before a Chelsea equaliser right at the death shook up the proceedings. As the game wore on into extra time, and Cech saved a Frank Ribbery penalty, the narrative had an all too familiar feel about it for Spurs fans. By the time Chelsea won it on penalties, the shock had turned to bitterness. Shock. Frustration. Anger. Same emotions, different circumstances. Hell, Spurs weren’t even bloody playing and still the sporting Gods had been against us. Michel Platini had been particularly blunt in his assessment of the events. Regarding our fate and whether we had been treated unfairly, he told reporters afterwards, “No, they have not been punished. They know the rules, they should have been third and not fourth.” He had a point, too. Towards the season’s end we were 2-0 up against Arsenal in a game that could have allowed us to go 13 points clear of them if we had won. Alas, we lost. Badly. The 5-2 reversal was the catalyst for a spectacular end of season collapse which would see us cede 3rd place to the Goons, moving us to 4th and at the mercy of Chelsea’s Champions League exploits. In the aftermath of Chelsea’s victory, we were left with a sense of what might have been once again, our questions and musings drowned out by the celebrations of our neighbours from south of the river. The following season, with a lack of Champions League football on offer and an estimated loss of £35m in terms of club revenue, Luca Modric departed for Madrid, Gareth Bale following him the season after. Who knows what Spurs side may have been built if Champions League qualification had been achieved during that year.

The Curious Case of Christian Gross

Spurs had a number of managers in the 1990s – all with various strengths, flaws and foibles. For all of their defensive frailties, Ossie Ardiles’ Spurs sides could score goals. Gerry Francis had a certain honest charm, even if his Spurs side were fairly unspectacular. Later in the decade, despite his Arsenal links being held against him by some, George Graham brought League Cup silverware to the Lane during his tenure at Spurs. However, few – if any – Spurs fans look back at the time that Christian Gross spent with the club with any form of nostalgic sentiment. Revisiting the Football Focus special surrounding his appointment whilst writing this blog, in theory it was an appointment taken with considerable foresight. Alan Sugar talked about the need for a “continental approach” for premiership clubs in the future – and Arsenal had also taken this approach by appointing Arsène Wenger in 1996 that would transform their football club. But with Gross, it’s an understatement to say that the gamble didn’t pay off. The media were seemingly against him from the off, bemused by his strange accent and tweed-jacketed, supply teacher appearance. Randomly, in his first press conference, he waved his London Underground ticket in the air and boldly declared, “I want this to become my ticket to my dreams”, before his Spurs side proceeded to lose 1-0 to Crystal Palace in his first game in charge. We may have beaten Everton the following week, but then results indicated that Spurs would be in a relegation scrap – and heavy defeats against Chelsea (1-6) and Coventry (4-0) reflected the work needed. He had some very good players at his disposal but the season was a long, hard, demoralising slog. Stars such as David Ginola, Les Ferdinand, Darren Anderton and a certain Sol Campbell seemed powerless to stop the rot. Reports suggested that it was an unhappy camp; players were disgruntled with Gross’ emphasis on fitness during training sessions – the rumour mill suggesting that Ferdinand was being made to train whilst crocked – exacerbating his injury. I still remember sleepless nights and barbed comments about our impending relegation from rival fans in school. For a 10 year old Spurs fan, whose team was muddling the line between winning and losing weekend after weekend and struggling to escape the cold clutches of relegation, it was a torrid time. In the end, there was just enough quality – somehow – to keep us up and it was largely thanks to Jurgen Klinsmann coming to the rescue by scoring important goals during a loan spell from Sampdoria at the end of the season. The particular highlight were his 4 goals in a 6-2 rout at Wimbledon. But the problems persisted and the following season, opening up with two losses in the first three fixtures, Sugar had seen enough and wielded the axe, blaming the media for their agenda against Gross from the off. Even by our own standards, his time at Spurs had been a nadir for the club and clearly wouldn’t be remembered fondly by the Spurs faithful. We went on to employ former Gunner’s boss George Graham, who tempered resentment from some fans somewhat by leading us to League Cup glory during his first season in charge. As for Gross, he went back to Switzerland and proved his credentials to an extent – taking charge of Basel for a 10 year stint, winning 4 league titles along the way.

What do you think? Any other incidents spring to mind when you hear the term “Spursy”?

Andy, South Wales, March 2020

If writing the ‘Good’ review last weekend was a process in which many fond memories were revisited, commenting on the ‘Bad’ may not be so pleasant. But, as they say, face your fears. Grasp the nettle. Getting these off my chest may even be cathartic…

The Problem with Semis

Spurs and semi finals… I’m not a football statistician but I’d wager that Spurs have had more semi final agony than your average team. And it’s in the FA Cup where the problem seems to lie. It’s a long list of misery: Everton ‘95, Newcastle ‘99, Arsenal ‘01, Portsmouth ‘10, Chelsea ‘12 and ‘17 and Man Utd ‘18. Hunkering down in the current Covid-19 outbreak, I still don’t think I’ll have enough time to dissect all of those fixtures. They all still smart, but some bite harder than others. The one that stands out for me was the Everton loss in 1995. Being young and new to following Spurs, I was a fanatic. Rain-Man-esque, I genuinely remember every team we beat that year during the cup run: Altringham in Round 3 (just after New Year’s); Sunderland in Round 4 (televised); Southampton in Round 5 (that Ronnie Rosenthal replay hat-trick); & Liverpool in the Quarters (Klinsmann’s winner). After that, Everton were the opponents standing in our way. Excitement built up throughout the weekend and when Sunday afternoon arrived I was absolutely bouncing. We were 1-0 down at Half Time, but I was still hopeful against an Everton side who seemed to be constantly flirting with relegation throughout that period. Trailing 2-1 as the game entered the final 10 minutes, reality was about to sink in. If there had been a glimmer of hope that was refusing to be extinguished, it was soon abruptly snuffed out. Up stepped Nigerian Daniel Amokachi with a brace to break Spurs hearts. (I’ve since learnt that he actually substituted himself on – Joe Royle didn’t want him on the pitch!) It didn’t make sense to the 9 year old me; we were meant – destined! – to win the FA Cup that year. Through stinging tears, I helplessly watched Ian Walker sat on his arse, shaking his head and smiling ruefully whilst Amokachi, grinning and tongue out, was lauded by the Everton faithful. The rest is history: Everton beat Man Utd 1-0 in the final – and the vision of Amokachi’s celebration still haunts my dreams from time to time.

The crushing disappointment of the Everton game was repeated time and time again over the next 25 years. I remember being gutted by League Cup Final losses to Mark Hughes’ Blackburn, Chelsea and United but I can honestly say they were not nearly as painful as the semi final loss to Portsmouth in 2010. Pompey had already been relegated and were in financial meltdown. They were a mess of a club. Once we’d beat them, standing in our way were Chelsea – a team that were a shadow of their former, dominant selves. Finally our name was going to be on the fabled trophy once again, I told myself. Yet football so often doesn’t follow scripts or make sense – and so I couldn’t believe it as we lost 2-0 after extra time. Stunned. Fuming. It was supposed to have been our year! Football arrogance personified – and I’d been punished badly for it. But it’s a scene that would play out time and time again. In ‘17 and ‘18 I fancied us to beat Chelsea and Man Utd respectively, but the hope was misplaced and both semi finals left me – and thousands of other Spurs fans – feeling miserable and frustrated, the dawns once again proving to be false.

Manchester Madness

Now all clubs have their fair share of disappointing results over the seasons. It’s part and parcel of the game, of course, but some results just stick in the consciousness and fester. And Spurs have had an awful lot of ‘bad’ results. Yet two games (or should that be implosions?) spring to mind – both against Manchester opposition. Both involve Spurs snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. In 2001, inexplicably, we were 3-0 up against Man Utd at home at half time. The late Dean Richard’s debut, he was on the scoresheet as we totally outplayed Utd for 45 minutes. I couldn’t believe it as I gazed at the teletext screen. Even rural mid Wales was a hotbed for boisterous, vocal Man Utd supporters in the early 2000s – and on this day I could finally give some lip back to them after years and years of taunts and vitriol from smug ‘glory supporting’ reds. Back in the days when a text cost you 10p, I blew a couple of quid in reckless abandon, letting the United fans know what was happening to their beloved stars down at the Lane. Fast forward to full time: Spurs 3, Manchester United 5 (five!). Phone switched off. Pride hurt. Lesson learnt. A dark day indeed. But history has a nasty habit of repeating itself. Three years later and we were playing Man City in an FA Cup replay at the Lane. Same shit, different year. 3-0 up at half time – my cousin Craig and I laughed as we heard that Joey Barton had received a second yellow card in the tunnel for dissent on the way to the changing rooms. They were terrible, almost to the point of embarrassing, with 11 men. How many would we score against 10!? “We could be looking at double figures here, Craigo!” I beamed. Fast forward to full time: Spurs 3, Man City 4. Lightening had struck twice. “It could only happen to Spurs…”

A Bridge Too Far

After the euphoria of Amsterdam, it was always going to be tough for the Champions League final to live up to expectations. John Steinbeck once wrote “It is not good to want a thing too much. It sometimes drives the luck away.” Maybe this explains what played out on that June evening in Madrid. Of course, IF we had won it it would have been the zenith of a Spurs fan’s joy. Alas, ‘IFs’ don’t count for much in sport and the final can join a long list of ‘almosts’ for Spurs supporters. In all honesty, the game wasn’t up to much and the penalty in the opening minute (which I still can’t really see how it was justified) stunted the game and took away so much of the game’s drama, expectation and bite. Weeks of intense buildup and bubbling excitement were dashed by the sound of the referee’s whistle. After Salah’s penalty, the game seemed to be a formality. I said in my last post that although fairytales happen in sport, they seldom happen to Spurs. In fairness, we had our fair share of miracles on that cup run: Llorente’s goal versus Man City; VAR rescuing us at the death in the same game; Moura’s heroics in Amsterdam. But beating Liverpool in Madrid after a long, gruelling season was ultimately a bridge too far. As a Spurs fan, it was still a special day. The build up and the pre-kick off hope, although it ultimately kills you, still has a resonance and importance. Rarely getting the chance to get up to matches, the Champions League final was similar to a Welsh Rugby International ‘all dayer’ in many respects. A couple of hundred Spurs fans descended on Cardiff RFC in the heart of the Welsh capital for the game. I was out with my brother in law – a die hard Bluebird – and he too was swept along in the wave of excitement that was building amongst us Spurs’ fans. Yet, I’ll repeat, it’s the hope that kills you. One minute in and the game seemed gone. By the time Origi scored late on, the writing had already been on the wall since the first minute. Looking back at highlights of the game with sober eyes (not the most enjoyable thing to watch in all honesty), we had more chances that I remembered and Alisson made some decent saves. But, like so many times, it wasn’t to be and I nursed the following day’s hangover with a mighty sense of ‘what if’ hanging over me.

Mauricio & Harry

The managerial merry-go-round has always been a feature of supporting Spurs, even if the departures have been less frequent in recent seasons. Some managers have just not worked and their departures had a sense of inevitability about them (Christian Gross anyone?) However, two sackings in particular have left a nasty taste in the collective mouth over the seasons – that of Harry Redknapp and Mauricio Pochettino. Redknapp was a tonic for Spurs and the wonderful work done on his watch enabled us to kick on in the last decade and helped to develop us into the European force that we are (or were?). They were four brilliant years – with exciting, world class talents like Van De Vaart, Luca Modric and Gareth Bale helping us to forge an exhilarating style of play, ultimately helping us to qualify for our first Champions League adventure. The lack of silverware probably forced Levy’s hand in sacking Redknapp but I remember a feeling of seething resentment when I heard the news. In my eyes, Redknapp was absolute class. The man himself was humble, honest, shrewd and his tenure had absolutely redeemed Spurs and made us a force to be reckoned with. Everything about his Spurs side was right – and the fact that the wait for silverware still goes on makes me wonder what may have been achieved if he had been allowed to stay on. And yet, the game of football moves on quickly and they say that everything happens for a reason. If Redknapp hadn’t been given his marching orders then Mauricio Pochettino may not have become Spurs manager two years later. And what a tenure it was. As a kid who grew up following Spurs in the 1990s, we were often a bit of a laughing stock in all honesty. Roy Keane’s recollection of the Fergie quip of “Lads, it’s Tottenham”, springs to mind. We’d get the odd big result, but too often it was said that our end of season party doubled up as our Christmas Do – mid table mediocrity was the all too familiar pattern year after year, season after season. Under Poch, I don’t think it’s hyperbole to say that we became one of the dominant forces in English football. Naysayers would ask what silverware we won – but consistent league finishes and deep cup runs point to our talent. Pochettino was an alchemist; the brand of football we played at times was breathtaking and we were lauded for it. Our last season at the Lane in 2016-17 will be something that Spurs fans will cherish forever: unbeaten. Tottenham Hotspur, unbeaten at home for a whole season – ‘chopped logic’ once again. Regarding the league, Leicester’s heroics in 2015-6 torments us as the one that got away. There’s hard luck stories in sport and our glorious chance went up in smoke in the defeat by Chelsea at the season’s end, Mark Clattenburg’s yellow cards being given out like penny sweets as the boys realised the game – and the title – was up. Leicester’s fairytale success will rightly go down in football folklore, but for me it’ll be forever linked with a hint of regret. Silverware may have eluded the club during his reign, but Pochettino allowed fans to experience the thrill of following a world class outfit, weekend in, weekend out. His departure, in the cold light of day, was not as shocking as Harry’s. In all honesty, it was on the cards as the results dictated that something probably had to change, as much as us loyalists pleaded for more time. The magic had gone, in all probability first vanishing up into the Madrid night in June. Prophet like, in the aftermath of the Liverpool defeat, Poch had warned us all that the impending rebuild would be ‘painful’. But it still hurt more than we could have imagined. For a man that had transformed Spurs and made us all believe, it was an inglorious and sad end. As the old saying goes, you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone…

Long Trips to London

Shared experiences are what supporting a club is about. The heights, when your team experiences them, are all the more glorious and life affirming when felt across a fan base – and collective disappointment arguably helps blunt the edges of a defeat a little. But I’d like to finish this edition by detailing a couple of personal disappointments – losses that may not have registered all that much across the wider Spurs fan base. Being a Mid-Wales country boy, the opportunities to get up to London come few and far between. A dozen or so games attended over the decades, two spring to mind when reflecting on the bad times. Around Christmas ‘99, my father and I studied the form book, fixture list and transport times and our eyes were drawn to the 22nd January, 2000. Spurs were playing Sheffield Wednesday – a team propping up the whole table, a team who had only won one game before Christmas, a team who were devoid of form and ripe for the picking. I’d been up to the Lane a couple of times previously, but couldn’t wait to go again, thinking that this game was a guaranteed three points and hopefully, a Spurs goalfest. Alas, things often don’t turn out the way you hope and, well… you can probably guess what came next: a 0-1 defeat. Only Wednesday’s second win of the season, it was their first win away from home! They’d save my blushes by winning one other away game against Wimbledon before the season was done, but the psychological damage had been done. Needless to say, the trip back to Wales was a long one. A similar story befell me just last year. My father and I, along with cousins Danny and Craig, got our hands on 4 tickets for the Bank Holiday game against Newcastle, which for my father and I would be our first trip up to new Stadium. We had a fantastic weekend in the big city. The only fly in the ointment was the 90 minutes of football we had paid good money to witness. Of course no result in football is a certainty, but even this weary and cautious fan expected us to dispatch Steve Bruce’s Newcastle with relative ease. As with Wednesday, we lost 0-1 and barely registered a shot all game – our disappointment compounded by the missed train connection on the way back home. Both results were… let’s say…“Spursy”.

What are your thoughts? Any results stand out? When will we fix our FA Cup semi final jinx?

Andy, South Wales, March 2020

So, I’ll begin with the ‘Good’ – a selection of memories and musings from the last 25 seasons that’ll warm the hearts of even the most sceptical of Spurs fans…

Klinsmann’s Heroics ‘94-95

Before 1994, football had never really registered with me. But after being glued to the World Cup that Summer, I became Spurs obsessed as the Premier League got underway – guided by my Old Man’s passion for Tottenham. And what an exciting time it was – with Jurgen Klinsmann tearing it up and scoring some belters against Sheffield Wednesday and Everton in his first two games (followed by his trade mark ‘dive’ afterwards that my cousin Danny and I would spend all season perfecting). Big goals followed – 21 in all in that first spell – including the winner vs Liverpool in the Quarter Final of the FA Cup. At Christmas, it was only natural that I’d have the stunning purple Umbro kit as a present, although I was crestfallen when ‘Holsten’ was missing from the front of it as some killjoy had deemed that alcohol advertising wasn’t appropriate on an 8 year old’s replica kit! The season went by, FA Cup Semi heartache awaited in the form of Everton and Daniel Amokachi (more of that in the ‘Bad’ Blog) – and one of the last memories of the season for me was an irate Alan Sugar throwing Klinsmann’s shirt at a Football Focus interviewer saying he “wouldn’t wash my car with it.” It had ended sourly, but there’d be a second coming for Klinsmann. He arrived back a few years later in 1997/8, his 9 goals helping to steer us to safety – a 4 goal haul in a 6-2 drubbing against Wimbledon being the glorious highlight of it all.

League Cup Glory

After the ‘feast’ of my old man’s younger days following Spurs, it’s been the ‘famine’ for me and thousands of younger fans. But – and it’s a pertinent but – there have been some magic moments of silverware along the way. Only 5 years old for the FA Cup victory in ‘91, I cannot recall it, leaving the League Cup victories of ‘99 and ‘08 to put the glory into ‘Glory Glory Tottenham Hotspur’. ‘99’s victory over Leicester was sensational! Okay, as an actual game of football it was dire, but when Alan Nielsen flew through the air to nod home the winner in extra time, I was finally about to see my beloved Spurs lift a trophy. The win over Chelsea 9 years later was even sweeter. I was a student in Swansea at the time, watching it in the Bryn-Y-Mor pub in Brynmill as a Dimitar Berbatov penalty got us back on level terms after a Drogba free kick had given Chelski the lead. The fingernails were pretty much gone by the time Cech’s save rebounded off Woodgate’s face to seal the win against the more fancied neighbours in extra time and if you’d told me in ‘08 that it would be the last time we’d win silverware for 12 years (not forgetting the Audi Cup, of course) I wouldn’t have believed you. The wait continues…

Champions League Promised Land

For years the Champions League was for other teams and the notion that Spurs could play in it was fanciful. We came close in 2006, until a dodgy Lasagne put paid to that. No, we were Thursday night Europa League fodder at best. Tuesday and Wednesday night European football was not for Tottenham Hotspur. All that changed in 2010 when a late game in the season against Man City effectively played out as a Champions League Qualifier Playoff. Us and them. Winner plays on. Loser plays on Thursdays. It was a tense affair to say the least. But late on, up stepped Peter Crouch to head home the winner, stunning the Eithiad into further silence and booking our ticket to Europe’s Promised Land. Such an important goal – it’s one that crops up on my Twitter feed time and time again. The following season, it was a wild ride in the Champion’s League and as a Welshman it’d be remiss of me not to mention Gareth Bale’s hatrick against Inter at the San Siro. Yes, the history books will say that we lost 4-3 – but Gareth, oh Gareth. Just thinking of it makes the mind giddy. 5 minutes watching his highlight reel from the second half of that game is not wasted time. Beaten but unbowed, glory weeknights would await in the future after the first taste of Champions League football for the Lilywhites. As far as Champions League hat tricks go? It would take some beating, but a certain Lucas Moura would give it a go nine years later…

Once Upon a Time in Amsterdam

Part of the frustrations of being a Spurs fan is the process of falling short of the glory time and time again. Usually it takes the form of agonising semi final loses, but last year the rule book for ‘Spursy’ agony was reversed somewhat. Patchy league form and a spate of injuries (including a layoff for that man Kane) seemed to galvanise the side on the European stage – as Dortmund were dispatched easily enough, followed by an almost unbearably tense aggregate victory over Man City. In the semi final – that stage of cup competitions that has continuously proved to be the insurmountable metaphorical hurdle for great Spurs sides over the past decade – stood an in-form youthful Ajax side. Not that any Spurs fan needs reminding of what happened, but what a delightful process it is to recall fond memories of it. First leg, same old story. 0-1, leaving an uphill task and serious work to do in Amsterdam. And it didn’t start well. At half time, 2-0 down on the night, 3-0 on aggregate – the game was gone. Fairytales do happen in sport – but when they do, they seldom involve Spurs as a rule. Watching it with my father, I remember being sprawled on the sofa, annoyed that we’d not even given it a real go but, in all honesty, I wasn’t particularly disappointed because we’d shown nothing in either of the legs to even suggest that we were ever going to win the tie. Liverpool had stunned Barcelona the previous night and here we were limping tamely out of the competition. And then the second half began. I watched but was indifferent, distracting myself on my phone by reading how terrible we were on Twitter. Then, Lucas Moura gets one back on 55 minutes but, so what? You don’t score 3 away goals at the Amsterdam Arena. This was just more evidence of the football Gods cruelly mocking Spurs fans. Four minutes later, he bags another, the blood starts pumping and you start to wonder if we can do this. The last half an hour plays out, Spurs on top, strong, dominant but not able to pick that final lock. Gallant effort, ballsy, full of heart – but not quite enough. 5 minutes of added time play out. “It’s just a shame isn’t it?” I say forlornly to the old man, proud of the boys but gutted that another semi final sadness is about to be written. But then there’s one last chance. The ball launches to Llorente, he lays it off to Dele, who plays through Moura. It’s as if time slows down: he rolls it into the left hand bottom corner and – stop the clocks, logic is chopped – the comeback is complete and Spurs have booked their place in the Champions League Final. I’m 32 years old – I’m crying, hugging my Dad like a giddy and excitable toddler and then we both sit there, stunned into golden silence, wondering how on Earth our Spurs have done this wonderful, beautiful thing. Of course, we played out a damp squib final against Liverpool and history will show that we didn’t win it. Yet, you’ll always remember the way your heroes made you feel, and that night in Amsterdam was the proudest I’ve ever felt as a Spurs fan. The memory of it will last a lifetime.

Fixing the North London Gap

An event of major significance – culminating over seasons rather than a one off moment – has been our success at first closing the – and then extending our own – gap over North London rivals Arsenal. The first NLD I can remember was watching the 1-0 victory in 1994/5 season, watching Gica Popesco slot home the winner while a mulleted Jerry Francis beamed from the dugout. However, after that, it was slim pickings. Over the next decade, Arsenal had their glory years, steamrolling us seemingly at will. But then, every so often we’d get a huge result against them. Stand outs? 2008 – The 5-1 second leg League Cup semi win and the 4-4 comeback in the league (who could forget Dai Bentley’s screamer?!) Then into the noughties, Spurs’ wins came with increasing frequency as we asserted our own dominance. Particularly sweet was the famous 2-3 comeback win in 2010 that kicked off the decade and many memorable and well deserved results followed. Although we still don’t get it all our own way, the current derby dynamic in North London is a world away from the dark days of the late 90s and early 00s. As final league standings over the past few years attest, the claim that “London is white” can longer be laughed off or dismissed. Long may Spurs’ success in this respect continue…

What are your thoughts? Of course I’ll have missed things – what should be included in the highlights of the last 25 years?

Andy, South Wales, March 2020

Thanks for joining me. Hunkering down in the Covid-19 Pandemic, this is an ideal chance to get some Spurs related baggage off my chest. Regarding my beloved Spurs, I’ve seen the Good, the Bad and the just plain Ugly over the past 25 seasons… A new blog coming soon. (Andy, South Wales, UK)