Flashback. Eastlands. Crouch. Glory

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Let’s not kid ourselves: this summer interlude has been an almighty carry-on. The minute a crumb of transfer gossip lands on our table and looks to have the slightest hint of juice about it, the trail almost as quickly runs dry again. It’s like Levy’s spent the break in the Atacama Desert; poking around in the sand, sifting through he dust, on the look-out for that ambrosial spring that just isn’t there. The cupboard is bare. Or at least that’s how it seems. Allow me, then- while things are so quiet- to whisk you back to a time when some serious business was going down in the hood. May 5th. Eastlands. Gulp…

What I said before: “All roads lead to Eastlands. As much as we’ve tried to ignore it and concentrate on the games at hand, this elephant’s been in the room for sometime now; crouching in the corner, lampshade plonked atop his head in a hopeless attempt to blend in and go unnoticed. We had a feeling it’d be a big one. All the drumming of calculators and fluctuating, wafer thin goal margins had convinced us of that. But now it’s finally here, in the full light of day with the rest of the challengers smoked out on the hard shoulder: it could scarcely be any bigger…

…By Thursday morning we could wake up- apart from a hangover which could well be declared terminal- with the knowledge that Spurs can plunge no lower than fourth. Beat City and we’ve done it. It’s ours. Eight months of slogging it out with our Champions League pursuing counterparts and we could secure the whole caboodle in ninety minutes under the gradually dwindling light at Eastlands. You simply couldn’t write such drama. Sheer madness.”

What you said before:

I’m incredibly envious; I’ve spent the day a complete mess. I feel all over the place. I’ve really coasted at work today doing very little other than checking football websites and generally trying to reign in my obsessive behaviour. I keep veering from feeling we’ll smash ‘em, to thinking the wheels will come off in spectacular fashion. Got any valium?” Kaybee.

“For years this match will be known as the Thrill-er in Man-chester. Not quite as snappy a title as the Ali Foreman rematch in Manilla, but the match is bound to be as hand-bitingly tense. Just wait and see.” Trembly.

“I want to see all out attack tonight, just go for it Ossie style – Attack, Attack, Attack Attack Attack! COYS!” Sambo.

“We invented the glory game now go out there and f*cking show the world we still own it! COME ON YOU SPURS!” JamieSpurs.

“Stand up an be counted boys ! COYMFS” Spiritual Advisor.

This is it, isn’t it? This is our time. Time to put aside our doubts and assume a place with the elites. Time to be the club we all know we should be. Indeed, time for heroes.” SeattleSpursGuy.

All fingers, toes, limbs and other extremities are crossed. I’m not going to be sitting comfortably for this… *reaches for valium*” Jonny Panther.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Manchester…

What I said after: “This is a different Tottenham to the one that has consistently crushed my spirits throughout the nineties and beyond. We seemed to have escaped that dooming sense of irony which followed us everywhere we went; Viera didn’t score, Fulop didn’t thwart us, Adebayor didn’t slide fifty metres on his knees to bogle in front of the Spurs fans. Nothing of the sort. We didn’t get overawed by the sense of occasion: we bloomin’ well rose to it. Like Peter Crouch ascending through the night sky like a salmon in a superhero’s cape. Just beautiful.”

What they said after: “Tottenham last made it into the European Cup in 1961 and had never before clinched a place in the top four since the inception of the Premier League. Harry Redknapp was appointed manager at White Hart Lane as recently as the autumn of 2008 and has achieved this transformation largely with the squad he inherited, even if Crouch is a potent addition”     The Guardian.

What you said after:

I need to have a lie down after that, but could someone please scrape me from the ceiling first? A performance of awe and wonder that everyone should be very proud of. A fully deserved result from a glorious performance, I was completely disorientated by the gall we displayed in that second half. Absolutely fantastic!
We dared: We DID!”
Jonny Panther.

“Well that’s not too bad is it? You know what, I think that was pretty much perfect. Crouchy with the goal. Love it. He’s big, he’s white, he won it on the night!” Aran.

“F*ck! I need to get home for a lie down now! What an atmosphere. Love you Spurs but….. F*ck 4th…. We want 3rd now…. I need a lie down (4 days sleepless nights) I just love everyone at this time…. I….. Need to lie down. GLORY GLORY TOTTENHAM HOTSPUR” Stevie Rhea. Speaks for us all.

Glory, glory. I’ve just finished watching the parade of missed chances on Sky Sports News and I have to say I’m glad I didn’t watch the game live. I’d be lying dead on the floor with a smile on my face right now. Thank heavens they finally found the back of the net. I’m almost more relieved than elated.” Longwell.

Ridiculously drunk, riducilously happy. Whatever Abbie does to Crouchies nether regions tonight he bloody earn’t it. Dawson simply has to go to SA and Ledley is a f*cking freak of nature.”  Spud.

Didn’t make it into work today…”  Day of the Triffics pt. 2

And I’m spent.


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