End of Season Review
You know I had a good mind to cancel the End of Season bash this year. After all the trouble I had trying to mail the various gongs off last time out, it really felt like my efforts were going to waste. Sure, the ‘trophies’ weren’t made with so called ‘traditional’ materials- some odd bits of MDF glued together, dried pasta shapes and enough gold lacquer to take down a light aircraft if you want the truth- but some of the feedback I got from the recipients was just plain rude. ‘Please don’t post me anything ever again’ said one returned item, ‘police have been alerted’ said another. ‘How did you get my address?’ pretty much all of them asked. I mean, who do they think they are? Professional footballers/millionaires or something? Jeez.
Right, the voice in my ear is telling me to get on with it, so…on with the show!
Player of the Season
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting the PFA need ask for their property back. It’s just for all the fireworks Bale rustled up in the first half of the season, there can be no doubt it’s been the Croatian’s year. Quite simply, when he plays, Tottenham play. A first-touch Jesus would be proud of, more passes in his game than my disastrous appearance on Mastermind, sturdy on the ball for a man so bantam-weight, decent in the tackle- perhaps doesn’t score enough- but just about the best thing we’ve had here since Ginola. The nerve centre, the orchestrator, the fulcrum of all things that are good. And if he leaves this summer I’m going to squeeze my head into a kettle and boil it. Super Duper, it’s Luka Modric.
Breakthrough Performance
Don’t call my name, don’t call my name. Oh go on then it’s Sandro. You could probably copy and paste this into the ‘Buy of the Season’ category and be done with it, but I’ll least give you your money’s worth. Talking of which, eight million pounds sterling is the price we supposedly coughed up for the Rhino from Riachinho (zing), and from what we’ve seen so far it looks nothing short of absolute theft. Made slender chunks pâté out of Milan at the San Siro, thwacked in one of the goals of the season at Stamford Bridge, and generally looked like the cat’s pyjamas the longer the year rolled on. More of that, if you’d be so kind. A simply brilliant first season in English football.
Buy of the Season
I’m still not quite sure how he ended up here. With seconds to spare in the summer window, Daniel Levy pulled out an eleventh-hour party trick akin to yanking a pair of underpants from the depths of his trousers without tearing a single fibre of cloth or vital appendage. Rafael Van der Vaart for a tidy eight million. A day after, let’s not forget, Bayern Munich had reportedly lodged a sixteen million bid, only for it to be batted out the park at Madrid HQ. And thank Jiminy Christmas it was. The Dutchman’s been our talisman this campaign, in a season where no-one ever seemed quite up to the task. Fifteen goals in thirty-odd starts; a strike rate Crouch and Defoe would happily feast on between them. A leader of men, a winner of games, a scorer of many a vital goal. And I think he quite likes it here, too. Boof!
Game of the Season
Quite tempting to dip a toe into foreign waters here- what with the larks we had on the continent and those oh so glamorous meetings with Europe’s finest. Both games at the San Siro were pretty remarkable in their own way, as was the return leg with Inter in which Maicon went from world’s best right-back to poor man’s Paul Parker in the space of a brisk evening in North London. For pure theatre, though, it’s that long-awaited win at The Emirates. Arsenal 2-3 Tottenham. Here’re some delicious highlights. Tuck in. Two-nil and you messed it up. Two-nil and…
Goal of the Season
Jeebers. This is like Sophie’s Choice. In that it’s no way like Sophie’s Choice. But a tough decision nonetheless. Bale, Huddlestone, Krankers, Sandro all have a strong case to get within mitt’s reach of this, let’s face it, prestigious award (you heard). For this humble blogsworth, however, you need look no further than Rafael Van der Vaart’s second against Villa. (skip to the 0.58 mark) There’s counter-attacking football and there’s counter-attacking football. And that was…well, you get the idea. Gooaaaaaaal!
So that just about wraps it up, folks. Feel free to use the comments box below to agree or disagree with any of the rubbish you’ve read above, or just share some of your own thoughts on the season that was. Tally ho!
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