Knees a Bit Trembly
Holler. Had you perused on Google Maps anytime over the last few months you might’ve noticed one or two anomalies appearing in the Nation’s capital; most visibly the presence of three separate roads leading to the swanky nouveau arches of Wem-ber-lee. Not everyone can use them all, I’m told, but for a team like the mighty Hotspur- recently accepted into the Big Time ™- there’re thrice chances to get ourselves to a final in London and pick up some delicious silverware. Champions League, F.A Cup and, tonight, The Carling Cup. The least glamorous of roads, no doubt, but not one to be overlooked when the opening few steps throws up the small matter of a North London derby. Yes sir, there’s plenty to get our teeth into.
We’re expecting a watered-down version of both outfits this evening. For us, a composite of those bobbing slightly adrift of ‘Arry’s first team plans looking to reign themselves back into the mainland, and newcomers who’ve yet to even pull on the shirt. The much anticipated debut of Sandro looks a dead cert. Reason alone to turn up or tune-in. I’m not expecting miracles from the boy- lord knows there must be enough pressure with the cavalcade of admirers he’s picked up without so much as kicking a ball- just a disaster and injury free bedding-in exercise. On which great things may well be built. He’s only twenty-one remember.
Elsewhere it appears Sergeant Palacios and Kranjčar will be given licence to get their crunk on. Two stalwarts of our Champions League push last year, recently fallen out of favour through either dips in form or arrivals of mesmeric Dutchmen. The latter you’d need to have innards constructed of stone not to feel a trifle sorry for. Through no fault of his or his talents, he finds himself on the peripheries.
Right, I’ve heard enough. Twenty pounds sterling on him to score the winner. I want these twots seen to. Carling Cup or otherwise. Get on, Tottenham.
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