Ye Footballing Gods Have Spoken
After hours of thoughtful discussion in the Great Halls of Footballing Gods, the divine creators have agreed that Tottenham Hotspur FC’s proposal to merely flounce into the Champions League spots with a pleasant, stress-free points buffer between themselves and the chasing droves, will been reconsidered. In its stead, an altogether different idea has been concocted- one, perhaps, more fitting with the history of modern Spurs. They’re going to have to do it the hard way.
The Gods have been quoted as suggesting we all ought to get a sense of adventure rather sharpish. Or, failing that, a sense of humour.
Mindful of the Gap.
This is all getting a bit tense for my liking. A third defeat on the bounce and Arsenal have come from nowhere with three wins in retort. From 10 to 7 to 4 and now a solitary, lonely point remains between us. It’s the last line of defence, tooled up with a bayonet and a stick of celery. Yes, those rotters have snuck up on us like a tired old mongrel whom just refuses to be abandoned. You leave him at the park, you set him free in the woods; and still he comes back, wagging his tail and smelling like a bin. Arsenal. What happened to you, man? I much preferred you as a slapstick comedy act. It was way cooler.
Chelsea aren’t ballsing it up nearly as much these days, either. Which is just not on. The sacking of AVB seems to have coaxed their senior guard into something resembling form. Not that he was a particularly bad manager, of course. Just the old tarts appear determined to show the Portugeezer that they were right all along and he, indeed, was the problem. Certainly it couldn’t be them and their incessant whining and general horridness.
Our dearly loved Tottenham have lost their way. Some of the gloss is beginning to wear off and now it’s a quest to find a second coat in the next handful of games and beyond. Much simpler typed than done, I hear you grumble. For many, a start would be relocating, where possible, our most effective midfielders, back to their original posts. When we were crushing all before us like Coke cans in a Blue Peter appeal, the front six picked itself and all appeared to know just what was expected of them. (Parker: break people. Bale, Lennon: stay wide and run as fast as you can) Now that just isn’t the case. What once made sense is now scary and confusing. I don’t profess to be an expert, but just why, for one, is Modric playing on the left-wing now? Is that a good idea? No, would appear to be the answer. No it isn’t.
The next two games, then, will decide the direction of our season. Beyond the stars or down the toilet. F.A Cup quarter-final against Bolton and home to Stoke in the League. We’re doing it the hard way. Don’t act surprised. You all knew it would end like this. In the words of Journey, don’t stop believing.
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