Will The Real Daniel Levy Please Stand Up?
August rumbles on, then. Just shy of a fortnight now until the season opener at Selhurst Park and the mood in the Tottenham camp is that Daniel Levy is not messing around. After the belt, braces and quick hide the chequebook years of ‘Arry Redknapp’s reign, the suits upon high have seemingly found two men they can entrust their considerable funds to: André Villas-Boas and his loyal advisor, Fun Time Franco.
Back him, was the call at the end of last season, after the young Portuguese coach guided Spurs to an alarmingly decent 72 point finish on Levy’s economy package and with injuries aplenty. And back him he has. To the point now where AVB and Baldini must feel like requesting transfer funds is as easy as walking into Mr. Burns’ office while he’s bombed on ether and asking him to sponsor their bowling team. Seriously, Frankie, ask him for anything. I think he’s gone mental.
Anyway, here’s a knockabout look at our incoming business thus far.
Paulinho (Hail Upon)
The Confederation Cup’s third best player and a man whose Wikipedia page once recorded ‘extreme levels of mental toughness’ as a notable attribute. Just how extreme is not clear. Seventeen million pounds worth of Brazilian prime fillet and a more well-rounded midfielder you couldn’t hope to discover. Fast, strong, aerially dominant- you name it, he’s in possession of it. A competent sliced backhand? Now you’re just being silly.
Nacer Chadli (Anarchic Led)
The kind of ambidextrous forward Villas-Boas writes excited scribbles in his notebook about. Apparently we’ve met before in Spurs’ 2010/11 Champions League blowout, but there’s a good chance I wasn’t paying attention. What’s clear is that the former Twente man isn’t inhibited by any strain of goal-phobia, as he managed twenty-three in all competitions last season. In addition to providing much needed competition for Aaron Lennon on the right, Chadli could well make the left-sided forward berth his own if Bale continues to play in a more liberated role/abroad.
Roberto Soldado (A Robot’s Doodler)
Ah, yes. Soldado. At last, I hear you cry, a proper striker; a bonafide number 9, a first-rate onion bag ruffler, a penalty-box sheriff, a crafty goal-witch… a centre-forward. Bobby Soldier arrives at White Hart Lane with quite the burden of expectation on his shoulders. I mean, this is The Guy. The reward for all those Spurs fans who did their best to get behind Frazier Campbell, Peter Crouch and Louis Saha; the subject about which a billion words have been bashed hopelessly into keyboards and discussed ad nauseam in the stands and in watering holes. We’ve told friends, our colleagues, written to the council; told complete strangers with absolutely no interest in Tottenham Hotspur Football Club or football in general. We’ve yelled at stray dogs, bus drivers, double-glazing salesmen: we’ve even talked to our parents. Dad, why haven’t Spurs signed a good striker yet?
‘Sorry, who is this?’
I’ll leave you with a clip of the man in action. More of this, Daniel. Less of this.
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