Alex Ferguson routinely pours scorn over the idea of recruitment at this time of year, but he should know more than most that for every Jean-Alain Boumsong or Ricardo Rocha there’s a Nemanja Vidić or a Patrice Evra out there waiting to be snaffled up…
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Any hopes we had of tiptoeing under the radar were swiftly punted into the Thames on Wednesday evening after every man and his lame dog in the days following declared Tottenham of Hotspur as genuine title contenders™. Alan Hansen, David Platt, S’ralex- even our own Heemskerk Howitzer, Rafael Van der Vaart, has pitched his tent in the side of ‘why the heck not’. It’s all making me jolly uncomfortable, if truth be told. And the quicker we can start ballsing it up like the good old days, the quicker we can all get on with our own pathetic, horrible lives.
What do you mean, speak for yourself? Well I’ve never heard such…
In all seriousness, though, just what have we become? And more importantly, is that thing we’ve become something that’s got a title challenge in…er…it? I honestly couldn’t tell you. But one thing’s for certain: it’s going to be ripping good fun to find out. Why the heck not, indeed.
Before we get ahead of ourselves, of course- and, frankly, it’s hard not to with every fibre of my being screaming LOOK AT THE BLOODY TABLE! LOOK! LOOK AT IT!- we’ve the small matter of entertaining Wolverhampton Wanderers at the Lane tomorrow afternoon. Yes, dear reader, the weekend is upon us and it’s served up a cold, uninspiring puck of Mick McCarthy gristle. I will really despair if he manages to do a number on us. Rather encouragingly, though, unlike last season, our record against the bottom sides has been exemplary; having beaten all of the teams south of 13th(including Wolves) and plenty more besides. In fact, only Swansea, from 9th downward have managed to get change out of us this term. We’re flat-track-bullying our way through the dross at an alarmingly proficient rate. And for consistency’s sake, I’d imagine tomorrow would be no different.
Smithers. Release the hounds!
**Note from the Ed. I’d like to think I’m an all-embracing sort and I know, for the most part, the regular readers of this cockamamie enterprise are, too. Thoroughly decent folk, I would say. Smart cookies, too. On the same hand, however, I’d also like to think that newcomers to the site- no matter how off party-line their views appear to be- could air such views in the comments box without being called a Gooner. To a point where they felt they couldn’t post on here without copping a load. Without wishing to come over all Paul McCartney- we’re all in this together, and, I’d imagine, all after the same thing. Success for Tottenham and playing with a bit of style along the way. But it’s no surprise that opinions on how we ought arrive there vary from person to person. In short, say what you want- and throw as much dung my way as you wish- but I won’t tolerate any posters getting flack for daring to have a view. Now let’s all forget this silliness and have a big group hug…Guys?**
I’m on Twitter like all the cool kids.