Hello? Is this thing on? Is anyone still there?
After a week-or-so hiatus (okay, probably longer than a week but who's counting?), The Boys From White Hart Lane comes storming back into your blogosphere with the excited fervour usually reserved for a night at Faces. With Spurs action on the blink of late, save for a thoroughly underwhelming 0-0 draw with West Ham, traffic on this blog took a bit of a nose-dive but, after a meeting of minds at the top, it was decided that swift and resolute action needed to be taken. This season isn't over yet and neither is this blog.
What have we missed? There was an international game at the weekend, apparently. Awesome Dawson (our captain, not that one out of Lost) slotted in alongside born-again England leader Brave John Terry ™ and, according to the broadsheets, is currently making the centre back position his own. He's probably the official third choice behind JT and Rio and with Ferdinand's participation in future England games hardly assured, Daws can hopefully look forward to quite a few games in the coming years.
Mind you, he was hardly tested at the Millenium Stadium. Wales promised passion and fire and delivered, erm, Andrew Crofts. There was one half-worrying moment when he was turned by Millwall striker Steve Morison but it was little more than a momentary lapse. The concern for England is that in Terry and Dawson they have two centre backs with the combined pace of a disinterested Heskey. But all Dawson can do is to continue cutting out the mistakes that once blighted his Spurs career. Terry might not be the best role model off the field but Dawson can learn a lot from him about the art of international level defending.
On the home front, Spurs have tied down both Gallas and Bale on extended length contracts - both good pieces of news. Gallas wasn't exactly the most popular signing when he arrived in August - Harold Shipman might have garnered a more enthusiastic reception - but, although his performances haven't been completely stellar, they've been extremely comforting. A wise old head is a crucial component of a successful back four and Gallas' presence enables the likes of Dawson, Kaboul and Bassong to feed off his experience and defend with relative comfort in the knowledge there is an international class defender partnering them.
Season highlights for Gallas so far? 1) The crunching tackle on Samir Nasri, seconds into the North London Derby win that he captained. And 2) THAT goal-line clearance against Milan. A few more years of him being around shouldn't be a bad thing, provided there are no St. Andrews-style strops.
As for Bale, there's precious little that remains to be said. The fact that he put pen to paper on a new deal is cause for optimism that he really does fancy a few years with us and that he's not ready to jump ship for a squad place at Old Trafford. On the other hand, it could just be a clever bit of business from Levy, ensuring that we can snaffle a few extra notes out of the eventual transfer deal for him. This blog is choosing to look on the bright side of life - Bale will still be with us at the start of next season. Probably.
Speaking of the Welshman, there's a naughty rumour flying about that he's struggling to be fit for our trip to Madrid. The debacle over his withdrawal from the Wales squad was probably the most exciting thing to happen surrounding that fixture and speculation is rife that his lung-bursting runs will be absent when we brave the Bernabeu masses. His loss would be a huge blow to what is already a pretty daunting task. But we fared well in Milan without him. And only a fool would write us off this season.
Hope you all enjoyed that - expect regular blogging to commence from this point on. And when you speak of us, speak of us well.
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16 March 2011
How to survive the lack of Spurs games
Being in the Champions League's been great, hasn't it? The comeback against Young Boys, van der Vaart's all-emotions performance against Twente, Bale vs Inter, winning in Milan, all of it. If we are to fail to make it next season, it'll be a real shame to have to resort to Thursday nights on ITV4 in the Europa League. Like sitting in business class for an hour and then being told to slink back to economy.
At least we haven't had to worry about fixture congestion. Shipping four goals in London derbies have seen us dumped out of both domestic cups, though this without doubt been a blessing in disguise as it helped avoid the aforementioned problem regarding squeezing four games into seven days. But whilst the lack of fixtures is good for the tired old legs of our ailing squad, it's about as useful to the fans who crave Tottenham action as David Cameron has been for working/middle class students wanting to go to University.
These days we're lucky if we get one game a week. There was even enough time for Harry to whisk the boys off to Dubai for 'warm weather training' or, as Jermaine Jenas' Twitter helpfully informed us, 145 rounds of golf. Whatever was gained from that trip will forever remain a mystery to us - maybe Jermain Defoe learned how to miss penalties in scorching temperatures and not just throughout the cold English season. But it's all well and good them living it up in the Gulf - what about the average fan back home, waking up in front of their Younes Kaboul poster every morning, just hoping for a glimpse of Spurs in action?
Here's TBFWHL's helpful list of things to do whilst we countdown the years until Spurs play again:
1) Offer Alan Hutton counselling. Our Alan's a a bit of an angry case. We've all read the reports regarding the, erm, altercation with his father. And rumours recently alleged that he'd had a dressing room bust-up with Harry Redknapp, despite Redknapp continually playing him ahead of Charlie Corluka all season in spite of his terrible performances. He clearly needs our help. Like him or not (this blog leans heavily towards the not), he's still one of us. A man-to-man here, a supportive hug there, possibly a chat about his childhood... it shouldn't take too long to get to the root of the Glaswegian's problems. Just don't try and turn him into a competent right back, you 'll be there for months.
2) Speculate over our new manager. Let's face it: Harry ain't gonna be around for years to come. Either he'll be dragged down by his court case for tax evasion or he'll be off to take the poisoned chalice that is the England job after Euro 2012. Harry's departure will probably be cause for celebration for some of our fans - you ungrateful lot, you - who have never warmed to Harry and amazingly look past everything we've achieved with him. But, that aside, who's the right man to come in next? Ideally someone with bags of experience, the right kind of playing style and the ability to forge a rapport with the fans. David Moyes is the rumour. This blog is lumping money on Jose Mourinho. You heard it here first (probably).
3) Take over Spurs on Football Manager and sign Alexis Sanchez. Just do it. The kid's a genius.
4) Send videos of the Gareth Southgate Pizza Hut advert to Jermain Defoe. It might just, just be enough to get him out of his penalty funk. No professional footballer should ever want to fall to the depths endured by Southgate in that excruciating advert. Let it be a warning JD. Missing penalties will only get you a one way ticket to that table by the window and a lunchtime buffet menu.
5) Teach Jermaine Jenas, Tom Huddlestone and Aaron Lennon how to write properly on Twitter. If this blog has to read one more poorly constructed sentence, one more enormously mis-spelt world or one more f*cking #JoinJenas hashtag, it won't be held accountable for its actions.
6) Research possible locations for a new stadium. Our Daniel needs help. Wallowing in self-pity and media silence since his Olympic Stadium dream went south, no-one really knows what his plans are regarding a new ground. Is the Northumberland Redevelopment Project still viable? It was the solution to all problems before the OS started to rear its ugly, running-track-blighted head. If Levy is still dead set on leaving Tottenham, then a new site needs to be found. Either way, one suspects the fans would be grateful for some clarity on the issue.
7) Send Niko Kranjcar a thank you card. The poor bloke has worked his proverbials off for us, played a huge role in getting us to where we are and now, through no fault of his own or anyone else really, he finds himself on the outside looking in. It's a horrible conundrum: the players in his position are simply better than him, yet he remains a terrific player. He's doing everything he can to get a look-in and even when he plays and wins games for us, you sense it's still not enough. Niko's been a terrific servant and if he leaves in the summer then good luck to him. Send him a token of your thanks just so he doesn't feel under appreciated.
That should keep you occupied for the next week or so. If you wonderful people can think of anything else, feel free to comment. When's our next game? 2015? Oh, next weekend against West Ham, excellent. And it's the Champions League draw this Friday. Stay away Barca.
*Join TBFWHL on Facebook and Twitter. Do it now!*
At least we haven't had to worry about fixture congestion. Shipping four goals in London derbies have seen us dumped out of both domestic cups, though this without doubt been a blessing in disguise as it helped avoid the aforementioned problem regarding squeezing four games into seven days. But whilst the lack of fixtures is good for the tired old legs of our ailing squad, it's about as useful to the fans who crave Tottenham action as David Cameron has been for working/middle class students wanting to go to University.
These days we're lucky if we get one game a week. There was even enough time for Harry to whisk the boys off to Dubai for 'warm weather training' or, as Jermaine Jenas' Twitter helpfully informed us, 145 rounds of golf. Whatever was gained from that trip will forever remain a mystery to us - maybe Jermain Defoe learned how to miss penalties in scorching temperatures and not just throughout the cold English season. But it's all well and good them living it up in the Gulf - what about the average fan back home, waking up in front of their Younes Kaboul poster every morning, just hoping for a glimpse of Spurs in action?
Here's TBFWHL's helpful list of things to do whilst we countdown the years until Spurs play again:
1) Offer Alan Hutton counselling. Our Alan's a a bit of an angry case. We've all read the reports regarding the, erm, altercation with his father. And rumours recently alleged that he'd had a dressing room bust-up with Harry Redknapp, despite Redknapp continually playing him ahead of Charlie Corluka all season in spite of his terrible performances. He clearly needs our help. Like him or not (this blog leans heavily towards the not), he's still one of us. A man-to-man here, a supportive hug there, possibly a chat about his childhood... it shouldn't take too long to get to the root of the Glaswegian's problems. Just don't try and turn him into a competent right back, you 'll be there for months.
2) Speculate over our new manager. Let's face it: Harry ain't gonna be around for years to come. Either he'll be dragged down by his court case for tax evasion or he'll be off to take the poisoned chalice that is the England job after Euro 2012. Harry's departure will probably be cause for celebration for some of our fans - you ungrateful lot, you - who have never warmed to Harry and amazingly look past everything we've achieved with him. But, that aside, who's the right man to come in next? Ideally someone with bags of experience, the right kind of playing style and the ability to forge a rapport with the fans. David Moyes is the rumour. This blog is lumping money on Jose Mourinho. You heard it here first (probably).
3) Take over Spurs on Football Manager and sign Alexis Sanchez. Just do it. The kid's a genius.
4) Send videos of the Gareth Southgate Pizza Hut advert to Jermain Defoe. It might just, just be enough to get him out of his penalty funk. No professional footballer should ever want to fall to the depths endured by Southgate in that excruciating advert. Let it be a warning JD. Missing penalties will only get you a one way ticket to that table by the window and a lunchtime buffet menu.
5) Teach Jermaine Jenas, Tom Huddlestone and Aaron Lennon how to write properly on Twitter. If this blog has to read one more poorly constructed sentence, one more enormously mis-spelt world or one more f*cking #JoinJenas hashtag, it won't be held accountable for its actions.
6) Research possible locations for a new stadium. Our Daniel needs help. Wallowing in self-pity and media silence since his Olympic Stadium dream went south, no-one really knows what his plans are regarding a new ground. Is the Northumberland Redevelopment Project still viable? It was the solution to all problems before the OS started to rear its ugly, running-track-blighted head. If Levy is still dead set on leaving Tottenham, then a new site needs to be found. Either way, one suspects the fans would be grateful for some clarity on the issue.
7) Send Niko Kranjcar a thank you card. The poor bloke has worked his proverbials off for us, played a huge role in getting us to where we are and now, through no fault of his own or anyone else really, he finds himself on the outside looking in. It's a horrible conundrum: the players in his position are simply better than him, yet he remains a terrific player. He's doing everything he can to get a look-in and even when he plays and wins games for us, you sense it's still not enough. Niko's been a terrific servant and if he leaves in the summer then good luck to him. Send him a token of your thanks just so he doesn't feel under appreciated.
That should keep you occupied for the next week or so. If you wonderful people can think of anything else, feel free to comment. When's our next game? 2015? Oh, next weekend against West Ham, excellent. And it's the Champions League draw this Friday. Stay away Barca.
*Join TBFWHL on Facebook and Twitter. Do it now!*
10 March 2011
Wolves, Under Armour and the Champions League
Well, that was quite a week.
Many thanks to Tom for keeping the blog running whilst it's regular incumbent was skiving off. 180 angry Wolves fans have made sure this was an excellent week for traffic on this site. Regular readers will know that Tom's posts come with an additional helping of tongue-in-cheek, something that should be encouraged when it comes to blogging. But, unfortunately, our friends from the Midlands didn't necessarily pick up on that vibe.
Not to worry. A 3-3 draw probably keeps all sides happy. Except that it doesn't whatsoever. Spurs will feel aggrieved at the loss of 3 points, having been mere minutes and the width of a post away from securing the win. Wolves will rightly grumble at the failure to dismiss Alan Hutton and the disallowing of Richard Stearman's second half goal. Swings and roundabouts. Football can be a cruel game. What was particularly noteworthy from the game was the moving tribute to Dean Richards before kick-off, as both sides put rivalry aside to acknowledge the passing of one of their own.
As for the goals, Defoe's were both absolutely scorchers and proof that he is actually a striker who knows how to score goals. It had been a long time coming since JD hit the back of the net for Spurs in the Premier League. Too long. His goals can be put down to predatory instinct - perhaps the old adage that form is temporary and class is permanent is true. Pav's bullet was another one to savour come the end of the season but, frustratingly for a Spurs point of view, it should have been the catalyst for victory.
This blog actually managed to tear itself away from the beach in order to watch the entirety of the Wolves match (thank you, Fox Soccer Plus) and was also present to witness Barcelona dispose of Arsenal in the Champions League. It was a frustrating game to watch. Arsenal were hardly in the game. Barca managed to work themselves into hundreds of excellent positions but seemed allergic to having a shot on goal. Had they had their shooting boots on, it honestly wouldn't have been a surprise if they'd scored about 10 goals, such was the ease with which they passed the ball. The best team in the world, they may be, but all that passing counts for sh*t if they don't put it away. Hell, if Arsenal had a footballer upfront instead of Nicklas Bendtner, they may well have scored towards the end.
And so to last night. TBFWHL was faced with a Sophie's Choice of a dilemma. The game was taking place just as the Barbados-Gatwick flight was departing. Should we check the score before take-off and face 8 hours of not knowing what happened? Or remain completely oblivious to what was happening and discover our fate upon landing? The latter was chosen and TBFWHL will have to apologise to the startled passengers at 5.30am who had to suffer a rather loud cheer of 'YES! COME ON!' as the BlackBerry was turned on and the result was confirmed.
Having just about recovered from jet-lag now, TBFWHL has caught up with the highlights and the outstanding performances from Gallas and Sandro. Seeing as the whole game wasn't watched, it'd be false to launch into an in-depth analysis of what happened. But nothing can prevent it being labelled a damn fine achievement. Honestly, this is a truly remarkable. Bitter Arsenal fans will claim that this is nothing to get excited over but, with respect, anyone who says that knows close to nothing about football.
Getting into this competition in the first place was a miracle. Beating Inter and winning the group was even more remarkable and now this, this monumental victory over another European powerhouse. There are few superlatives remaining to describe what's taking place. Remember this is a side that wasn't supposed to be here. It was supposed to be Man City and their billions. We weren't supposed to be good enough, even, to make it out of the group. We certainly weren't supposed to be able to win in the San Siro and then come back home and keep a clean sheet. What more can't we do? Win the thing? It sounds unrealistic to some but this is a better team than Liverpool's 2005 winners. A favourable draw here, another shock result there and the next thing you know, we're at Wembley.
One game at a time is probably the best course of action but do feel free to get excited. Spurs have earned us that right.
What else has been going on... oh yes. We've sacked off Puma and replaced them with, erm, Under Armour. The US firm will take over from Puma as our kit makers from 2012 onwards, with a reported £10 million-a-year deal being the biggest in Europe for the American manufacturers. They also provide the kit for the Wales national rugby team. Which is nice. So much for a return to the 2002 Adidas shirts which this blog has been pining for.
To finish off before you lot are let loose on the comments, here's a really stunning video discovered on YouTube this morning, courtesy of Richard Swarbrick, about our Welsh hero Gareth Bale, who may yet still have his biggest role yet to play in a Spurs shirt in the Champions League. Sit back, enjoy and then share your thoughts on last night in the comments section.
*Join TBFWHL on Facebook and Twitter.*
Many thanks to Tom for keeping the blog running whilst it's regular incumbent was skiving off. 180 angry Wolves fans have made sure this was an excellent week for traffic on this site. Regular readers will know that Tom's posts come with an additional helping of tongue-in-cheek, something that should be encouraged when it comes to blogging. But, unfortunately, our friends from the Midlands didn't necessarily pick up on that vibe.
Not to worry. A 3-3 draw probably keeps all sides happy. Except that it doesn't whatsoever. Spurs will feel aggrieved at the loss of 3 points, having been mere minutes and the width of a post away from securing the win. Wolves will rightly grumble at the failure to dismiss Alan Hutton and the disallowing of Richard Stearman's second half goal. Swings and roundabouts. Football can be a cruel game. What was particularly noteworthy from the game was the moving tribute to Dean Richards before kick-off, as both sides put rivalry aside to acknowledge the passing of one of their own.
As for the goals, Defoe's were both absolutely scorchers and proof that he is actually a striker who knows how to score goals. It had been a long time coming since JD hit the back of the net for Spurs in the Premier League. Too long. His goals can be put down to predatory instinct - perhaps the old adage that form is temporary and class is permanent is true. Pav's bullet was another one to savour come the end of the season but, frustratingly for a Spurs point of view, it should have been the catalyst for victory.
This blog actually managed to tear itself away from the beach in order to watch the entirety of the Wolves match (thank you, Fox Soccer Plus) and was also present to witness Barcelona dispose of Arsenal in the Champions League. It was a frustrating game to watch. Arsenal were hardly in the game. Barca managed to work themselves into hundreds of excellent positions but seemed allergic to having a shot on goal. Had they had their shooting boots on, it honestly wouldn't have been a surprise if they'd scored about 10 goals, such was the ease with which they passed the ball. The best team in the world, they may be, but all that passing counts for sh*t if they don't put it away. Hell, if Arsenal had a footballer upfront instead of Nicklas Bendtner, they may well have scored towards the end.
And so to last night. TBFWHL was faced with a Sophie's Choice of a dilemma. The game was taking place just as the Barbados-Gatwick flight was departing. Should we check the score before take-off and face 8 hours of not knowing what happened? Or remain completely oblivious to what was happening and discover our fate upon landing? The latter was chosen and TBFWHL will have to apologise to the startled passengers at 5.30am who had to suffer a rather loud cheer of 'YES! COME ON!' as the BlackBerry was turned on and the result was confirmed.
Having just about recovered from jet-lag now, TBFWHL has caught up with the highlights and the outstanding performances from Gallas and Sandro. Seeing as the whole game wasn't watched, it'd be false to launch into an in-depth analysis of what happened. But nothing can prevent it being labelled a damn fine achievement. Honestly, this is a truly remarkable. Bitter Arsenal fans will claim that this is nothing to get excited over but, with respect, anyone who says that knows close to nothing about football.
Getting into this competition in the first place was a miracle. Beating Inter and winning the group was even more remarkable and now this, this monumental victory over another European powerhouse. There are few superlatives remaining to describe what's taking place. Remember this is a side that wasn't supposed to be here. It was supposed to be Man City and their billions. We weren't supposed to be good enough, even, to make it out of the group. We certainly weren't supposed to be able to win in the San Siro and then come back home and keep a clean sheet. What more can't we do? Win the thing? It sounds unrealistic to some but this is a better team than Liverpool's 2005 winners. A favourable draw here, another shock result there and the next thing you know, we're at Wembley.
One game at a time is probably the best course of action but do feel free to get excited. Spurs have earned us that right.
What else has been going on... oh yes. We've sacked off Puma and replaced them with, erm, Under Armour. The US firm will take over from Puma as our kit makers from 2012 onwards, with a reported £10 million-a-year deal being the biggest in Europe for the American manufacturers. They also provide the kit for the Wales national rugby team. Which is nice. So much for a return to the 2002 Adidas shirts which this blog has been pining for.
To finish off before you lot are let loose on the comments, here's a really stunning video discovered on YouTube this morning, courtesy of Richard Swarbrick, about our Welsh hero Gareth Bale, who may yet still have his biggest role yet to play in a Spurs shirt in the Champions League. Sit back, enjoy and then share your thoughts on last night in the comments section.
*Join TBFWHL on Facebook and Twitter.*
9 March 2011
The Italian Job: Part II
Let's get the boring stuff out of the way first.
Spurs secured a hard-fought point against a determined Wolv.... Yawn. You know what happened. I know what happened. We all watched Lee Dixon mincing about the MOTD studio. If you've been stranded in no-mans land (or Northamptonshire) in the last five days, allow me to provide a conscise summary of the highlights at Molineux:
Defoe scored two absolute peaches. As much as it pains me to say it, Pav struck a beauty as well. A thunderous effort. He hit it harder than Hutton hit his own father. (To save Mark a stress-induced death from legal notices, I'd like to point out that the rumours that Hutton beat up his dad are contentious. After all, it's not like they've been repeated here, here, here, and here, as well as in a national tabloid..)
Nevertheless, Tottenham's rearguard was leakier than RVP's defence against sexual assault and the useless c*nts shipped three goals. Two points lost. The domestic pursuit takes another stumble. Ho hum.
The players will have been forgiven for being distracted. Tonight's battle at the Lane pits Spurs against eleven of the greasiest primadonnas seen in London since East 17 toured with Boyzone and 911.
Bale and VDV are rumoured to be making a return to the starting line-up, while Gattuso will be watching from behind his sofa back in Italy. Let's be honest, we don't want to count our eggs before they hatch, but it could end up being a fucking spectacular week. You know why. You don't? OK, I'll explain.
Arsenal, better known as the 'housewive's favourite' for their tendency to come second, got knocked out last night - albeit unfairly according to the armchair fans (i.e every single Gooner ever). Erm, yes. Barcelona only had 134,450 shots at goal. You managed diddly squat. Sitting on the fence here; it's hilarious that they pressed the self-destruct button. It's hilarious that RVP and Fabregas choked. It's hilarious that they're getting a slap on the wrist from UEFA. It's hilarious that Bendtner continues to prosper in a career as a professional footballer. I think I speak for everyone when I say to messrs Wenger and co: 'How about you all stop whining and kindly fuck off?'
If Spurs win tonight, not only do they usurp their rivals as kings of Europe, they prove that teams can progress in the Champions League without resorting to bully-boy tactics. Make no bones about it, Harry won't rest on his lead tonight. The boys will go out all guns blazing. It'll be a stonker. If we win - Bang. If we lose, we'll bow out gracefully. That's the Lilywhites way.
Enjoy the game. If you get a bit bored, why not switch over to Masterchef on BBC1 at 9pm?
(After a horrific Christian Gross-esque regime at the editorial helm, I now hand back the reins to Mark. It's been emotional. The occasion has got to me. I haven't stopped crying since my first post on Friday. I'm worryingly dehydrated.)
Spurs secured a hard-fought point against a determined Wolv.... Yawn. You know what happened. I know what happened. We all watched Lee Dixon mincing about the MOTD studio. If you've been stranded in no-mans land (or Northamptonshire) in the last five days, allow me to provide a conscise summary of the highlights at Molineux:
Defoe scored two absolute peaches. As much as it pains me to say it, Pav struck a beauty as well. A thunderous effort. He hit it harder than Hutton hit his own father. (To save Mark a stress-induced death from legal notices, I'd like to point out that the rumours that Hutton beat up his dad are contentious. After all, it's not like they've been repeated here, here, here, and here, as well as in a national tabloid..)
Nevertheless, Tottenham's rearguard was leakier than RVP's defence against sexual assault and the useless c*nts shipped three goals. Two points lost. The domestic pursuit takes another stumble. Ho hum.
The players will have been forgiven for being distracted. Tonight's battle at the Lane pits Spurs against eleven of the greasiest primadonnas seen in London since East 17 toured with Boyzone and 911.
Bale and VDV are rumoured to be making a return to the starting line-up, while Gattuso will be watching from behind his sofa back in Italy. Let's be honest, we don't want to count our eggs before they hatch, but it could end up being a fucking spectacular week. You know why. You don't? OK, I'll explain.
Arsenal, better known as the 'housewive's favourite' for their tendency to come second, got knocked out last night - albeit unfairly according to the armchair fans (i.e every single Gooner ever). Erm, yes. Barcelona only had 134,450 shots at goal. You managed diddly squat. Sitting on the fence here; it's hilarious that they pressed the self-destruct button. It's hilarious that RVP and Fabregas choked. It's hilarious that they're getting a slap on the wrist from UEFA. It's hilarious that Bendtner continues to prosper in a career as a professional footballer. I think I speak for everyone when I say to messrs Wenger and co: 'How about you all stop whining and kindly fuck off?'
If Spurs win tonight, not only do they usurp their rivals as kings of Europe, they prove that teams can progress in the Champions League without resorting to bully-boy tactics. Make no bones about it, Harry won't rest on his lead tonight. The boys will go out all guns blazing. It'll be a stonker. If we win - Bang. If we lose, we'll bow out gracefully. That's the Lilywhites way.
Enjoy the game. If you get a bit bored, why not switch over to Masterchef on BBC1 at 9pm?
(After a horrific Christian Gross-esque regime at the editorial helm, I now hand back the reins to Mark. It's been emotional. The occasion has got to me. I haven't stopped crying since my first post on Friday. I'm worryingly dehydrated.)
2 March 2011
Who cares about Wolves?
In a bid to keep the millions of loyal readers well-nourished while he practices his paddle-sweep on a Caribbean beach, Mark has entrusted me with the role of maintaining TBFWHL during his brief absence.
“Just keep it ticking over when you get a chance. No biggie” he told me, failing to mention that Spurs play the biggest game in their recent history on Wednesday night.
I’ll admit, I’m nervous.
Mark’s boots are sizeable ones to fill. He’s a respected blogger/journo with a solid reputation and a mean set of delts. He’s the midfield stalwart. The long-serving captain. The Tottenham virtuoso. But I’m ready to step up to the plate. I’m the emergency loan. The super-sub.
With that footballing analogy in mind, I intend to leap from the proverbial bench and put in a series of Pavlyuchenko-esque performances. This means that while I promise much, I’ll inevitably deliver little and end up sulking in Moscow complaining about weight training and Redknapp’s selection policy.
And so, to the weekend. Wolves vs. Spurs. 4th vs. 18th. On paper it’s a no-brainer, but on paper Alan Hutton is a professional footballer too. The gulf between the sides is gargantuan. Spurs have splurged £12.7 million on players so far this season. Wolves have spent nothing. Tottenham signed Van Der Vaart from Real Madrid. Wolves signed Danny Batth. From, erm, Colchester Utd.
Manchester United. Man City. Liverpool. Chelsea.
No, I’m not listing the clubs most frequently supported by Londoners. These sides have all succumbed to the might of Mick McCarthy’s Black Country battlers at some point or another during this campaign. Spurs scraped by with two late goals back in September, but failed to garner a single point from their opponents in the two fixtures last season.
Despite the Lilywhites being favourites, you wouldn’t bet your mortgage on ‘em. The enigmatic streak can’t help but rear its familiar head on occasion. Sublime at the San Siro. Bluster at Bloomfield Road.
I’m going for a 1-1 draw. Reckon it'll play out like this:
Crouch scores to give Spurs an early lead. Defoe misses a penalty. Kevin Doyle equalises midway through the second half. Defoe misses a penalty. Final whistle. Jamie O’Hara weeps with ecstasy. Gomes goes for a Chinese with the other half. Defoe misses a penalty.
The game finished two hours ago Jermain.
But anyway, let’s be frank – who actually gives a fuck about this game? There’s bigger fish to fry than an average Championship side on Sunday. In fact, we’re way past fish – we’re in the realm of sharks. Or whales. Or whale sharks. We’re talking about AC Milan. In the Champions League. This is the one that the players and fans are looking forward to. Fact or fiction?
Molineux? More like Molin – who.
“Just keep it ticking over when you get a chance. No biggie” he told me, failing to mention that Spurs play the biggest game in their recent history on Wednesday night.
I’ll admit, I’m nervous.
Mark’s boots are sizeable ones to fill. He’s a respected blogger/journo with a solid reputation and a mean set of delts. He’s the midfield stalwart. The long-serving captain. The Tottenham virtuoso. But I’m ready to step up to the plate. I’m the emergency loan. The super-sub.
With that footballing analogy in mind, I intend to leap from the proverbial bench and put in a series of Pavlyuchenko-esque performances. This means that while I promise much, I’ll inevitably deliver little and end up sulking in Moscow complaining about weight training and Redknapp’s selection policy.
And so, to the weekend. Wolves vs. Spurs. 4th vs. 18th. On paper it’s a no-brainer, but on paper Alan Hutton is a professional footballer too. The gulf between the sides is gargantuan. Spurs have splurged £12.7 million on players so far this season. Wolves have spent nothing. Tottenham signed Van Der Vaart from Real Madrid. Wolves signed Danny Batth. From, erm, Colchester Utd.
Manchester United. Man City. Liverpool. Chelsea.
No, I’m not listing the clubs most frequently supported by Londoners. These sides have all succumbed to the might of Mick McCarthy’s Black Country battlers at some point or another during this campaign. Spurs scraped by with two late goals back in September, but failed to garner a single point from their opponents in the two fixtures last season.
Despite the Lilywhites being favourites, you wouldn’t bet your mortgage on ‘em. The enigmatic streak can’t help but rear its familiar head on occasion. Sublime at the San Siro. Bluster at Bloomfield Road.
I’m going for a 1-1 draw. Reckon it'll play out like this:
Crouch scores to give Spurs an early lead. Defoe misses a penalty. Kevin Doyle equalises midway through the second half. Defoe misses a penalty. Final whistle. Jamie O’Hara weeps with ecstasy. Gomes goes for a Chinese with the other half. Defoe misses a penalty.
The game finished two hours ago Jermain.
But anyway, let’s be frank – who actually gives a fuck about this game? There’s bigger fish to fry than an average Championship side on Sunday. In fact, we’re way past fish – we’re in the realm of sharks. Or whales. Or whale sharks. We’re talking about AC Milan. In the Champions League. This is the one that the players and fans are looking forward to. Fact or fiction?
Molineux? More like Molin – who.
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