From the Vault: Spurs 2-1 Chelsea

It’s the difficult second album. Part deux of this whimsical jaunt down ol’ memory avenue from the 2009/10 season. A bit like Days of Our Lives but with some actual footage and less whiff of Werther’s Originals knocking about the studio. Baby, if I could turn back time.

White Hart Lane. April 17th, 2010.

Just days after fetching the socket set from the shed to de-wheel Arsenal’s limp title challenge for the season-in a frenetic mid-week North London derby, Tottenham were expected to invite another of the League’s heavy hitters over, Chelsea, with designs to inflict more bellyache to one of the gong chasers. While Spurs had their own problems, namely keeping the warm breath of the Top Four chasing pack on their necks rather than up in their grills, there was much interest in the game coming further north. Fergy was banking on further upset; if only to push the blue open-top bus tour back a week or two. Well, it was certainly an upset. But entirely on their own terms…

What I said before: “Ancelotti’s lot have added some yards to their stride in recent weeks. After a wobble—of which barely even caused a flutter on the seismometer—they’ve replied like a back alley slugger. Ten were smashed past Villa in less than a fortnight; in the midst of a run which saw them charge to the summit of English football and make the F.A Cup final; all with a few flicks of their sovereign coated fingers. Blip, indeed.” 

Here’s how it went down…

What I said after: “Chelsea just had no answers—or, if they did, they were for questions posed moments previously. We were just too darn quick for them; in thought, endeavor and sheer pace of attack. Modric was a delight like a visit to the best online casino. Positively angelic in movement; pinging passes with more snap than a turtle’s jaw. Enough to make you go all gooey inside. Dawson, in front of Fabio Capello, was the embodiment of grit and refinement. Fearless, unruffled and probably winning more headers than most centre-backs do over the course of a season. No sooner had Drogba found his way out of Ledley King’s pocket last year, he went and slipped neatly into the dark recesses of Dawson’s this. And if he doesn’t go to the World Cup this summer, I’m supporting USA.”

What they said after: “Harry Redknapp’s team are suddenly surfing atop a wave of adrenalin and excitement, and two outstanding results have bounced them back into a Champions League position. Chelsea departed White Hart Lane with their momentum battered and their egos bruised. Their lead at the Premier League summit has been trimmed to a point, and a goal difference only three better than the scrapping, lurking, defending champions.”

                                                                                                         The Guardian

Ah, memories.

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