Bale and Vertonghen sitting in a tree...K-I-S-S-I-N-G
Spurs at Swansea. Match report, musings and another Bale/Verts love-in. Bring your kleenex.
Three pots of silverware walk into a pub...
The Premier League, the Champions League and the Europa League walk into a pub...
Spursing it up
Fulham, bloody hell. Tinkering, formations, selections, fatigue, blips and collapses. Europa, Inter and Basel. 1882. Spursing it up. Goody bags. Impact subs. Betting. Killing a friend. Acid trips. Haggis & jellied eels. Insuring your package for $1m. And magic carpet rides…
There's little chance of a bite
International break. Sigh. In comparison to domestic football it feels like a slow moving zombie straight out of The Walking Dead. You can see it moving towards you. An ugly, rotting carcass that persists with its thirst for living flesh. It doesn't take that much effort to ignore it and turn your back and walk towards something else instead. Unless you slump directly in front of it, there's little chance of a bite. Sure, if you're not paying attention it can creep up on you. But you'd have to be stupid or careless to allow that to happen. Always hold an axe in your hand.
Reboot and rejuvenate
I love football. I also unequivocally hate the old bag. I was deeply philosophical on Sunday evening. I tend to be because I always believe. It's not blind faith, I'm happy to accept if something wrong is staring straight back at me. I think I'm balanced most of the time and yes I retain a certain degree of positivity. I'd rather that then be permanently pessimistic, feasting on the negatives rather than weighing it all up with ample objectivity.
Ouroboros
The North London Power Shift. How is it defined? Surely finishing above them this season and/or next season and winning silverware is one certain way of consolidating any tangible shift? Does attracting a better quality of player also count? Is the shift made up of less tangible stuff like simply knowing we're in the midst of change or does that leave far too many fiery arguments in a heated debate unresolved?
Escapology
Another look back at the shocking (it did feel like I was being electrocuted whilst watching) performance of Spurs away to Inter in the second leg. Skin of teeth stuff.
Inter the Cockerel
That first leg tie with Inter, woof. A glorious dismantlement of the opposition. The most gutting aspect for us was not scoring more than the three goals we got. Moon on a stick football. However, complaints are few and far between, especially with taking a clean sheet to Milan where we hope to scribble something about the quarter-finals on it.
It's a testament
I'm over it.
For a hundred different reasons. Okay, so sure, we threw it away. Two mistakes, both completely avoidable, both gift wrapped for a Liverpool side that started well but soon faded when we asserted ourselves in the second half. The consequence of tired legs and tired minds.
Lay the demon to rest
No surprise to see the pundits predict and hope for a Liverpool win tomorrow. It's a comforting scenario they wish to see play out because it will create an illusion (one only visible with their eyes) that the Anfield club are staking a claim for their rightful place to be retained. Back in the real world, there's no such thing as a rightful place. You earn it, you don't rely on history to give you a free pass. Sky Sports especially just won't let go of the 'golden years' of their Top Four dominating all. They'd also have you believe Spurs aren't really playing that well.
Spurs 3 The Nerazzzzzzzzzuri 0
The Nerazzurri arrived in N17. They run out onto the pitch. Then they we're dismantled, boxed up and sent packing to Italy faster than you can say Gareth Bale. Black and blue, indeed. This was easier than getting behind Arsenal's back four. The Italian club disinterested from start to finish. That's not to say Spurs we're not emphatic across the 90 minutes. No cruise control from us. Assured desire to win the game and put the tie to bed. Dismissing the possibility of a crazy night next week away, it looks like the job is done. And dusted.
The journey
Doesn't take much to sit back and daydream about Gareth Bale's astonishing hattrick away to Inter and his demolition in the second leg at the Lane. He came of age. The potential positively simmering in a cauldron of pulsating pace and complete lack of fear. Arguably he was an unknown entity for most of the continent. The Premier League, in time, was wise to the fact that if you want to stop him you're going to have to double mark him. Sometimes treble mark him. Foul him. Hack him.
They said what?
A look back at the things they said before the North London Derby. Things that make me laugh out loud with the power of hindsight.