Fabulous Weapons

Well, what can one say? Tottenham bolted out of the gates like a well-oiled thoroughbred on Saturday afternoon. A first-half of complete, exhaustive dominance which, at its most one-sided, left City looking as if they’d stumbled into a warzone in their pyjamas. Title contenders? Pfff. They couldn’t get near us. For long periods. And, in spite of all the dazzle which the Eastlander’s new playthings hoped to blind us with, it was a man costing the equivalent of three weeks of Yaya Toure’s wages who wrestled the point from about our person. Joe Hart. Their savour. Lip-readers among us might have discerned the thoughts of Fabio Capello- who watched from the stands-as another ball ricocheted away from the net via the England stopper’s mitt… Sheeet.

But enough about him. Points dropped aside, there was joy to be found under many an upturned stone this weekend. Mancini may’ve bulked out his midriff for the occasion- on the day outnumbering us centrally by three to two- but it was Huddlestone and Modric who ran the show. Privy to the Italian’s selection, you’d be forgiven for thinking ‘Arry might’ve slotted Palacios in there- if nothing else, to temper City’s numbers. But, such was our Croatian’s own doggedness, Wilson was barely missed. A few misplaced passes you can forgive when Modric- supposedly a bantam-weight attacking midfielder- puts so much exertion into winning it back again. He harried, harassed and zipped his way along. Cracking stuff.

Gareth Bale has hit the ground running. And running very quickly at that. On each instance Micah Richards was required to trackback, the portly Midlander’s face contorted in the manner of someone whose appendix had just burst. It’s no exaggeration to say that Bale was exceptional; echoes of a young Ryan Giggs, if you wish. And as such, I propose the lickety-split winger should never be asked to play left-back again. He’s far too precious. It’d be like asking a Neurosurgeon to take the bins out. BAE’s good enough anyway. Plenty good enough.

So how didn’t we win? The bone of contention, I guess, is whether missed opportunities were down solely to the superhuman efforts of Joe Hart, or, rather, the lack of ruthlessness proffered by our frontmen. I’m inclined to argue that, while Hart was remarkable on the day and anyone might’ve found themselves wanting in the face of such heroic goalkeeping, there’s a genuine concern that what we have isn’t quite good enough. Collectively, there’s a varied and- for the most part- talented quartet of line-leaders there, but nothing individually that looks bang on the money. Defoe can be devastating when in the mood; as can Pavlyuchenko. And Crouch, too, is fine as squad player. But even against minor opposition he tends to look at odds. We appear to be one or two notches away from an immense proposition. I’ve no idea who- or even who’s available- but it just feels like we ought to shake things up a bit. Install some new ideas into a forward line, which, I have to say, at times looks bereft of ideas.

Other than that, little to moan about. The wrong result, granted, but very much the right vein in which we should continue. More of the same, please.

Now let’s bring on the Young Boys.

*ahem*