Modric Gone But Dembele’s No Flop

So this is goodbye. Maybe because we’ve had an entire twelve months to get used to the idea of Luka Modric vamoosing to pastures sexier, the official confirmation of the Croatian’s departure on Monday wasn’t quite the dead-weight blow that perhaps other high-profile escapees have affected in recent years.

If you want to mark it on some kind of grief-barometer; for me, the lowest ebb was when Sheringham dumped us for United in ‘97. Not only was he feasibly our only good player at the time (Ginola signed a month later) his parting words were the quite astute acknowledgment that we were a club utterly void of ambition. Eesh. One thing being deserted by the one you love, quite another to have your biggest flaws pointed out to you while they’re galloping off into the sunset. I told you, it’s supposed to look like that!

With Modric gone it feels like nothing we can’t handle. Certainly one of the best players I’ve seen in a Tottenham shirt and for footballing reasons, I’ll remember him with a great fondness. Happily for us fans, though, the by-product of a hyper-protracted transfer saga like this, is that you eventually get beyond stages of grief, disbelief and anger, and you’re quickly on the way to sober acceptance. Four fabulous years in Lilywhite and I wish him well at Madrid. Now, let’s bloody spend of that delicious coin.

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