We're all going on a mid-table tour...

Seven games left. We are now deep into the business end of the season. Alas squeaky bum time is not part of our agenda. There is still however a possibility of a European push to add some extra spark to the fixture list, but looking at the games ahead and then looking back at the miserable start to the season and the various hiccups and mis-guided moments of alleged clarity (we're going down, we're going down) we've had along the way, it's safe to say...thank God we are safe. And we are safe. We are right? Of course we are. Couple more points here and there should see us finish top half. I'm looking forward to the nosebleed. As for Europe...it's akin to an injection of botox to a thirty-year old face. Completely unnecessary.

But still, plenty of potential shenanigans left in the season (West Ham at home, relegating Newcastle, City and Utd, Everton away....etc) so no need to throw your season ticket towards the directors box just yet. 630 minutes of Tottenham left to go.

Regardless of all this, it still won't stop some people from thinking about the summer months that lay ahead of us.

Which means having to brace yourselves for plenty of Lennon and Modric transfer stories, even though one has signed a contract extension and the other only signed for us last summer. And after the Berbatov and Keane epics, you'd hope our chairman doesn't allow for the usual gut-wrenching acceptance of departure of key players. Expect Liverpool to be linked to our little Aaron anyway. And Levy - JUST SAY NO. The Tottenham Foundation is rich enough from donations, thank you very much.

Also brace yourselves for all the ITK and club insiders, that will surely be crawling out of the woodwork soon to tell us about potentially someone being signed but it's only 87% done so might or might not happen yet. I said I'd ignore them so that I could avoid another shitstorm like the one that took place during the last window. Remember the jihad directed my way? Happy days.

What might or might not happen with David Bentley is something that will also take up plenty of tabloid space between now and the summer and through out June and July. Did Harry whisper the other day that we are not going to sell any of our star players? Guess that means David has already cleared out his locker and is hitch-hiking his way back up North. Personally, I don't think he should go but as I've discussed a few times already this season - where can he play if he can't play right-wing? Can't see Lennon being dropped any time soon. Unless his form dips or he gets injured. If David is having personal problems, then fair enough, let him be. Let him sort himself out. When you set yourself such a high standard, it can sometimes be a struggle to reach it consistently. Those star-jumps were ace, and we've not seen the likes of them since.

But this is something we can all revisit in a couple of months. For now, I'd much prefer to enjoy what we have left of the season and hope the players strive for improvement rather than have one eye on how they plan to spend the summer months. We need to remain competitive at all times. Even when we are mathematically safe. None of this oh so typical switching off lark we experienced ponderously after last years Cup final and all the way to the death of the season and into the beginning of this season.

Palacios will be suspended for Saturday, which is a great shame. But a test to the depth of the squad, as we fall back onto the past. Yes, it's flux capacitor time with Zokora and Jenas pairing up in the middle. If West Ham win this, then expect a week long party in Green Street. If we lose, then I can imagine a vast majority of Spurs fans burning their season tickets and claiming celibacy from football forever. Such is the magnitude of this encounter.

Naaaaa, just fucking with you. West Ham fans might see this as a game of importance as they aim to surge ahead of some truly God awful sides below them to stake a claim for 7th spot, in a season where being average is enough to claim a ticket to Europe. And I don't blame them. They've had plenty of their own turmoil and quietly, in the midst of everything happening down at the bottom and right at the top, Zola and Clarke have got them ticking over fairly well in the middle section of the table. They've done enough to get them into a position that might event warrant the words 'successful season'.

I just want us to dick 'em cause it's fun, innit? Also because I'm still haunted by that 4-1 Easter defeat several years back. Put me right off my Creme Eggs.

Apologies for the textbook 'Spurs fans don't care about lickle West Ham as much as they care about us but by stating this it must mean that I do care otherwise I wouldn't bang on about it' preview of the Easter weekend game. I guess it's all down to one particular fan who sends me never ending texts that are meant to pass for 'banter' but appear to be of a more stalkerish nature in tone. Early in the season I was told it was 'do or die' at Upton Park for the both of us. And to think they call Spurs fans drama queens. I'm now being told this return fixture is a Cup final for European qualification. Some Cup final when we've gone from being almost season long relegation fodder to within a whisker of European qualification.

Best league in the world, innit? While West Ham have been picking up points and improving steadily, we've spent most of it being shit and yet we're what...4 or 5 points adrift of them? Shame we didn't beat Rovers. That would actually have made Saturday a potentially hilarious and ironic turnaround to our season and a rather fitting illustration of just how gash everyone below 6th is.

So step up, Didier Zokora and JJ. Dominate and boss the midfield with urgency, composure and menace. Let's brush the claret and blue aside and reveal in the glory bestowed upon the winners of a ding-dong derby match!






Jesus Christ, we're fucking doomed.

Don't fret....there's always next year

Carling Cup? Never rated it anyway. Mickey Mouse competition.

Sigh.

So here we are, the day after a cup final defeat. Feels a little bit shitty, doesn't it? I despise penalty shoot-outs. Damn you Champions League and the death of cup replays. I guess technically speaking we didn't actually lose (DVD release imminent?). The 'reserve' edition of the best club in the world couldn't beat us in open play. Rejoice!

As for those pesky pens. Not sure why O'Hara took the first one. He got it on target at least. Foster and his ipod will haunt him for a while yet I'm sure. He wears his heart on his sleeve does Jamie, so no doubting the reception he'll get on Wednesday will lift him. As for David Bentley, his scoffed shot sums up his season perfectly. An embarrassment of a mis-hit. But top drawer players as well as the ones lacking form are equally likely to miss or score on such an occasion. Well, discounting the ones in red. It's just so bloody typical a player with a decent shot on him completely mis-kicks the ball in the manner he did. And doubly typical that given a chance for a little redemption he cocks it up. I blame those star jumps. Penalty aside, he made little impact on the pitch when he did come on.

Harry looking good in the suit Ramos left behind

Think it was pretty obvious we'd lose this after extra-time ended. Pessimism gave me a tap on the shoulder and wink of despair. Shame though, because on the day neither side deserved to go home empty handed based on effort and opportunities. Someone obviously does. Obviously. And alas it was us.

Never thought the game would go the full distance based on the opening 15 minutes. United took us apart, but we got into the game and after that possession was shared fairly equally with both sides creating chances. Not the best Cup final, but it gave us plenty of gasps.

United might have launched one or two screamers towards goal, but we had our moments too. Mostly from the lickle boy Lennon who had an outstanding day out. Yes, the end product isn't perfect, but the mazzy runs are. Modric also superb - and both players could have had a Wembley moment to saviour. Shame we had to sub Aaron. Adel would have had a lot of fun out there with his tricks and clever feet and it's a shame he didn't get a cameo.

View from my seat

The much maligned Bent had an effort on goal. Run around a lot, usually in the wrong direction. Spiffing stuff. Pav ballsed up a couple of chances including one that come from a sweet pass from a locomotive Zokora bursting down the middle of the pitch. Zoko was mightily impressive. Where is this version of the player 95% of the time when required in the bread and butter games? As for Pav - he should not have been subbed. 4-5-1 grates me. And although he spooned a couple of efforts, we looked more structured with two up front. Harry might have got this wrong.

Ronaldo entertained with his usual dramatics, falling over whenever he was 'touched' by a Lilywhite. Chris Foy, our esteemed referee, made up for various inconsistencies by yellow-carding the winker. Penalty? Nope. Was already heading for the ground when King clipped him. Talking of cards, O'Shea should have walked but Mr Foy decided otherwise. Seems certain fouls at certain points in the game are worthy of a yellow but punishment for a similar foul to a player already on a yellow - wearing red - is not. Bah, who cares. Happens all the time. Fergie was obviously worried thus replacing him for Vidic. Who was superb. Talking of defenders, so was King and Ferdinand. And Dawson who has made a miraculous return to consistent form (his distribution is crap but I still love him).

Neither side had that cutting edge or bit of luck to claim glory inside 120 minutes. Anyone surprised that Utd won the toss to have the pens in front of their own fans? And the toss to select who takes the first pen? Footballing Gods, damn you.

Get the pen on target and you can't really complain that much if it fails to go in. If the keeper guesses right, he has a chance of saving it. If the pen taker strikes it with power or places it, then the keeper has no chance. I guess, if you practise them and have the confidence (and don't lose your bottle) you have a chance. More than a chance. At the purest simplistic level, penalty taking should be easy. Aim for the part of the goal that the keeper has no chance of getting to. If only it was that simple. It's 99% about mentality. That's where it's won.

Don't think we stood a chance to be perfectly honest. Don't quite grasp why Bent wasn't taking the first kick. I guess it's fairly evident we don't have many penalty takers in the side. Bentley continues to scapegoat himself towards public enemy number one. Take a bow son. Jenas must be smiling. Although no frowning for JJ yesterday. He too impressed making it a WTF double with him and Didier doing the biz. Although one or two fans in the stands seemed to nitpick a little too much on Jenas. I thought he showed spirit, if lacking in box-2-box creative enterprise.

Wembley mocks me with its sad smile

Oh well, there is always next season. We gave it some. Played like a team, some decent approach play and some almost moments that had my heart sat firmly in my mouth.

Other random highlights:

• Man Utd fans leaving after the winning penalty. I find that quite hilarious. Witnessing the lifting of a two-bob cup not as vital as that train back to Surrey, hey?
  
• Had a conversation with a police officer inside the stadium prior to the game. Pleasant chap, not into football. He usually has to settle for Millwall home games every other week the poor sod. "Nice to see some proper fans" he said to me. I told him that's not usually what others would call us, but I accepted the compliment.
• The Fanometer. Football dies a little more.
  

Onwards we go to our third successive Cup final, following on from yesterday and the Hull win the week before.

Boro at home. My knees and Harry's face still trembling.

Spurs overhull City to claim Cup final victory

Woodgate header, 2-1, winning goal. We've been here before haven't we? No fireworks at the final whistle this time round, but the importance of claiming the three points practically pushes this result into open bus parade territory.

Spurs have been to Hull and back. No glory football here. First half performance was gash, only highlight a rather deliciously curled opening goal from Lennon who had all the time in the world to blast it in, but preferred instead to add a little gloss to proceedings and show off some of that end product he has plucked from the frustrating realm of eternal potential. He remains our one bright spark in the dark gloomy basement that the past year has been. Hull's equaliser was assisted by Calamity Cudicini (Gomes must be jealous) who fumbled the ball, allowing for an easy slot to make it 1 a piece.

Dodgy at set pieces, less than confident goal-keeping. Here we go again, right? No, wrong. Rather than losing the game in the final moments, Woody planted his head on the ball to give us one of those rare moments. An away win. Fantasy football. School boys own stuff. Jumpers for goalposts.

Thoughts and prayers for Hull City who haven't won for 10 league games. Their dizzying holiday towards the top of the table nothing more than a distant memory. They can now consider themselves invited to the relegation party down at the bottom.

Thankfully as Hull walk through the front door with a bottle of cheap wine, we've managed to escape from the prank that saw us locked in the downstairs toilet to standing a little easier in the kitchen, which everyone knows is the best place to be at a party....even a party as depressing as this one. We need to focus now and try to flirt with the attractive lass giving us the eye. She's leaning up against the middle of the table, showing us a bit of leg. Boy would we like to climb up that leg. She's no babe, not like some of those top class European birds at the party up the road, but she'll do. Beggars can't be choosers. Aim to impress her with a little charm and slick moves and we'll be out the front door, into a taxi, and back at hers for a coffee leaving this party of losers behind. Now and again, it's ok to play ugly if it gets the right result.

We've now got the interference of the second leg of the UEFA Cup game on Thursday to look forward to. Which is a bit like going on a blind date and finding out your 'date' at the bar with the bow in her dress is your sister. It's inconvenient.

To be fair to Harry, it is a tad ludicrous the way the fixture list scoffs at us. And it's a crying shame the UEFA Cup has been relegated to insignificance thanks to our Premiership predicament. There's been much talk of how Harry has disgraced this clubs great traditions in Europe and how ironic it is that Spurs strive to get into Europe, something taken very seriously a couple of seasons back, to complete dismissiveness this term. Fact is, we have been crap all season long and attempting to win the UEFA Cup when our Prem survival is yet to be guaranteed is arrogance we can not afford. Arrogance probably too strong of a word there. What I mean is, we have by default devalued everything other than the league games thanks to our lack of consistency and form so pretending we can afford to play full strength teams in games that are not important in the grand scheme of things is misplaced. We could play a strong side and win, and take that confidence forward. Its agreeable logic, but the history of this season has served up one certainty: Spurs hardly ever turn up. I'd rather go out of the UEFA Cup, not lose any players to injury, and try to salvage some pride in the league.

I expect another reserve/youth team combo and a sharp exit out of the competition, but this being Spurs, I wouldn't be surprised if the complete opposite happened. Just for larks.

Sunday is now the new priority for the remaining week with Hull decimated. Utd, who we all hope get dicked by Inter this evening, will not be fielding a super-strength line-up at Wembley if they are a goal or two down by the final whistle tonight. Their second leg game at OT is obviously always going to be far more important than the Milk Cup. So amazingly, form aside, we do have a lickle chance of surprising Fergie on Sunday. Although their reserves are not going to be push-overs. And even with the Inter game sandwiching the Cup final, I still expect to see a superstar or two grace the field against us.

I'll be praying for some joy in what has been a joyless season. Fireworks in our favour please. Could even handle an Orish jig or two.



I'm still 'offline' and without internet access and will be travelling on Wednesday/Thursday so will resurface at some point on Friday.

Glory Glory for Tottenham: Flashback to Carling Cup win

I'm about to disappear on a hiatus of sorts. I'll sporadically post when I can but the next week or so you'll have to make do with Harry and loads of action. I'm sure you'll survive without my inane rants. But if you have become accustomed to them and need a fix to get you by, the boys and girls over at the hellmouth will help you with your addiction. You'll find them to be of a special type of crazy there. Otherwise, if you fancy your own hiatus, try something different.

But enough of the blatant advertising. Time for that flux capacitor to do it's thing.

Date: 25th Febuary 2008
Place: Back pages of the Evening Standard

Dicking Chelsea the day before was wonderful. Unfortunately, the quotes haven't aged too well.


"This just goes to show what he has done in a short amount of time. It's no fluke because he did it at Sevilla as well so he must have something really special. Certain managers have that luck about them. He has certainly done a tremendous job. To have a trophy after a few months is an incredible achievement" - Robbie Keane on 'Our Special Juan'

"The way Tottenham stood up to Chelsea gives supporters a real hope that a new era of sustained success is finally about to begin at White Hart Lane" - Michael Hart, Chief Football Correspondent, Evening Standard

"We have a very good manager and he has proved it by winning the final. There was no pressure on Ramos, but this is a wonderful achievement for him and the players" - Daniel Levy

"I have a lot of football to come and will stay with the team. I'm confident there are more trophies to follow" - Ledley King

"I am here, I want to win things and hopefully this is the first of many for me. It means a lot to beat Chelsea, they are a fantastic team. When the final whistle blew it was an indescribable feeling. Everyone was happy and it was great to see so many smiles. It's a major trophy and we wanted European football again. This is our moment, but on Tuesday we start again. We have important games ahead of us. We have big goals ahead of us. The manager is a winner and he knows how to win things. This is his first trophy and I hope it's the first of many" - Dimitar Berbatov

"The team has been improving in terms of security and confidence and yesterday's win reaffirmed that. The players have shown they can concentrate and fight with the best of them" - Juande Ramos

"In the dressing room afterwards, the players were all saying 'now let's win the UEFA Cup'" - Robbie Keane


Back to the future and I can happily live (if we win it) with reading the quotes from Redknapp about how monumental it was to beat Utd in the final, proper David and Goliath stuff, because, you know...we're down to the bare bones. I'll even look the other way when Levy sanctions the release of the Carling Cup Double special edition DVD.

Coys, let's be 'aving you. I fancy starting the month of March with a big fat smile on my face.

Late late show saves spinless Spurs

Milk Cup Semi-Final
Burnley 3 Spurs 2 (6-4 to Spurs on agg.)

Imagine an incontinent old man who tries hard to avoid wetting himself, but can’t stop it. No matter how many times he changes his pants and prays it won't happen again, it keeps happening. Over and over again. That’s Spurs.

You could argue that on a mud drenched rain soaked playing field Burnley gave it a right go but only actually managed three worthy efforts on target. All of which ended up in the back of the net. They hardly ripped us to shreds. We missed several chances to score including a sitter from Roman (managing to out do Bent from the other night), long before the final two minutes which saw Roman (making up for that sitter) and Jermain spare us humiliation. You could argue that the performance – which was shambolic with our lack of cohesion and retention of possession – felt 100 times worse because we expect so much from our players.

We expect them to play like the players we know they can be. Although a professional and efficient performance will do just fine, which is something they should be giving us without expectation every bleeding week. But we don’t have the luxury of that at the moment. Face it, that’s how bad we are. We can’t even beat the promoted sides in the league, so what made us think last nights second leg semi-final was going to be easy? Even at 4-1 up you suspected that Spurs would make it difficult for themselves. Their attitude doesn't bode well for our up and coming games. New blood, unaffected by these pathetic moral levels, will probably be the key to turning things around.

Even though lady luck had more to do with it in the end than our class prevailing (Burnley tired out and got punished for settling for the away goal rule), if you swapped Alnwick for Gomes, we would have got through this game without the need for dramatics. Yes, I know Gomes is prone to the odd dropping of the ball, but Alnwick was very much a weak link and clearly cost us 2 goals. Not exactly the environment for an ideal debut.

As a team we were simply woeful, a side of individuals with no team structure who made it very easy for Burnley to get within touching distance of a cup final. We always do just about enough to lose games without getting battered, and last night was a prime example.

Far too many mentally weak players with the fabled ‘I don’t care’ attitude. No urgency or self-respect and very little acknowledgement of the fans loyalty. It’s been like this for quite a while now, and even the threat of relegation doesn’t appear to bother them. Maybe one or two of them are already thinking about where they wish to play next season. Wake up. Wake the f**k up.

Yes it was a game played in nasty conditions against a team that has battled through the likes of Chelsea and Arsenal to get here, but regardless of this and regardless of the players missing from our team, how can you possibly excuse that embarrassment of a performance? 4-1 up and they still managed to almost throw it away. Where was the determination? The passing? The possession? How can you possibly excuse that?

You can’t.

Shut your eyes, this time last year we swaggered to a 5-1 win over Arsenal. I think the final itself against Chelsea was the last time we actually played really decently.

Easily the most inept performance from Spurs I’ve witnessed for some time. We almost got what we deserved. But we suddenly decided to play for two minutes towards the very death and display a little of that almost forgotten Premiership quality.

I'm not completely sadistic. I am 'happy' we have another day trip to look forward too, but not best pleased with the display that got us there. Well done Spurs, you complete absolute joke of side that I love with all my heart, but hate how you pull it in all directions and bleed it dry.

Post-match?

Our players will probably think they did alright tonight. To be fair, one or two did not disgrace themselves. Dawson in particular and Bale and Bentley had far better games than anything else they've done for a while but that's not saying much at all. Zokora, possibly playing for his career at Spurs with the imminent arrival of Palacios also stood out from the dross, but put into perspective – this was all against Championship opposition. Adel (arriving us a sub) showed some spark. Overall, rubbish.

I was half expecting Harry to say we 'weathered the storm' in his post-match interview, but now I can understand his public slating of players. He is right to have a go at them after a performance like that. It's difficult to blame him for the tactics because the players don't look like they actually follow them. His post-match was brutally honest and to the point. We have players who look like they are sulking and feeling sorry for themselves. They need a good slap. The lot of them.

"The players should be fighting for their lives to stay at a great football club like this. Their future is on the line, they need to perform to stay at the club”, said our Harry after the game. Thing is, they stopped fighting a month or so back. I'm inclined to think Redknapp's man management isn't enough at the minute. It would be easy to say he is once more playing the blame game and deflecting attention away from him and onto the players. But the players performances are as bad as they were under Ramos.

You'll have one or two of the giddy idiots getting their suits measured for the final. Faces in Gants Hill tonight for them no doubt.

Looks like we are sending a second-string to Old Trafford on Saturday. Shame we have to discount the FA Cup, but even with a full strength team on current form, I wouldn't fancy our chances. FA might slap his hands for making the comment about a weakened side, but who cares. Mish-mashed will have to do. It’s sad really because it’s the FA Cup. And it’s at Old Trafford. Regardless of the team put out, they should give it 100% because if Spurs can’t be arsed with games like this how exactly are we going to fair in the bread and butter of Prem survival? Where is the passion? I can show you some passion for free, let alone the levels I could reach for £30,000 a week.

Only Spurs can make you feel despair and ecstatic punching of the wall joy at getting to a Cup final. My knees have gone all trembley.

The Didier Zokora Cup Final

Chelsea 1 Tottenham 2 aet


There was a moment in this game that had me jumping around, screaming out to the heavens muttering the same word over and over and over again.

Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. Why.

Why Zokora? Of all the players to find himself running towards the goal, why does it have to be him? Didier, bless him, makes Steffen Freund look like Thierry Henry. But then he isn’t a goal-scoring midfielder. Even when he managed to find Cech’s head rather than the goal, he failed to compose himself and lay the ball to Berbatov or better still, find the target with the second opportunity presented to him.

See, these are the moments that pretty much define Spurs.

If only.
Almost.
Nearly.
So close.

The cruel irony is that the player who run from midfield is the one player that you know won’t be able to do what you oh so want him to do. But it was at this very moment that I had an epiphany.

Chelsea had done practically nothing all game. And rather seeing this assessment from a typical Spurs point of view, being ‘we’re gonna fuck it up’, I saw the game through the eyes of a neutral. Just for that one all-seeing moment.





There was nothing to suggest Chelsea would get something from the match. Spurs were in their ascendency. And I could see it. But before we get to this part of the game, let’s go back to the start. The opening 45 were ominous to say the least. My epiphany at this point in time was nothing but a sperm casually backstroking towards the egg.

We started brightly and created chances, but Drogba’s insistence at taking centre stage with his theatrics proved to be the dramatic catalyst for the wrong kind of breakthrough. This was Drogba’s no country for real men, and with each pathetic fall to the ground, it made me wish for an air-powered cattle gun. Yet another collapse to the ground, this time 30 yards out was definitely a free-kick, and the irony wasn’t lost on anyone.

What followed was a quirk that was probably noticed instantly by Ramos (mistakes like this are avoidable). A complete mess of a wall, built with Marmite rather than cement. Not only was it in the wrong place, but the fact King and Robinson failed to orchestrate some kind of organisation was unnerving. You could see exactly what Drogba was going to do. He tried it earlier. This time it was an open invitation. We hate it, they loved it. Drogba shots and scores. Robinson hardly moves. This time not because of consumption of pie, but rather the fact that even if he did dive in the general direction of where the ball was placed he wouldn’t even get there in time with rockets on his boots.

1-0 to them and much biting of nails insured.

One highlight from the first 45 minutes involved the Chelsea fans rising to sing a chorus of ‘Stand up if you hate Tottenham’. The Spurs fans stood up and sang ‘Stand up if you hate Arsenal’. The Chelsea faithful should really do their best to look elsewhere for that defining rivalry.

During half-time I wondered if this was going to be one of those disappointing days where efficient Chelsea do enough to stifle the game into a non-glamorous victory in their favour.



At this point I was worried. Goes without say I was enjoying the occasion, but I suddenly got sickeningly nervous of losing. Yeah sure, it’s the Carling Cup. The lickle half-breed cousin of the FA Cup. But this was Chelsea, and losing to them (and fucking ‘ell have we done a lot of that in recent years) is just not a feeling I choose to experience anymore. I hate it. I hate it more than losing to Arsenal. It’s like losing to Fulham. Why the fuck would you accept losing to Fulham?

Then there’s the fact that it’s a ticket back into the UEFA Cup. It’s not the ideal way in but it’s on offer. And with our bad start to the season costing us any true chance of finishing top 6, this is the dream ticket.

And finally, its silverware. You know. That thing other teams outside the top 4 sometimes manage to flirt with on the odd occasion the second-string eleven don’t make it through to the final. Makes the honours list look not too shabby either. What’s good for the goose...

Winning it would also make it number 15 in Cup competitions won domestically and in Europe (only Utd and Liverpool have won more). Call it just rewards for the progress made by Ramos in the short months he has been here or proof that we don’t choke when it matters. A medal of honour.

So back with the sickeningly nervous feeling, I couldn’t shake. And onto the second half.

“Huddlestone has to come on”, my mate commented.
“I can’t see where a Spurs goal is gonna come from”, I informed him a few minutes earlier.

And then Hudd came on. For Chimbonda. I burst several veins in my forehead screaming abuse at Pascal the Mercenary who was disgraceful in the ungracious manner he walked off the pitch. No urgency, no care in the world other than his vanity. And off he went down the tunnel. It’s bitterly disappointing he wasn’t sold in the January transfer window.

So with the skinny demure Hudd on, things began to change a little. A disguised pass here and there. Lennon, who might as well have been in Faces during the first half, began to show a little spark. And as I thought back to my comment about not seeing where we would score from, we go and win a penalty. Didn’t think of that one. The decision was never in doubt. Juggling the ball isn’t controversial imo. It’s nailed on, ball on the spot.

The sickeningly nervous feeling turned into a haemorrhage. Up steps Berbatov. Some Spurs fans run down to the bottom of the aisle and look upwards to the fans, preferring to watch the crowd reaction rather than the actual penalty.

Up steps the Bulgarian and in one majestically cool second we are level. Pandemonium at long last. And that little bit of hope is embracing us.

Tainio on for Steed. And Spurs continue to press and push and the tempo is now where it should be. Pace with movement and purpose. Chelsea are disjointed in comparison. Anelka isolated with zero chemistry between him and Drogba, or anyone else for that matter.

Lampard unable to control a midfield bossed by Jenas and Zokora. Jole Cole on the bench. Woodgate and King in complete command at the back for us. It’s not quite a walk in the park. More of a brisk jog with a poodle chasing behind you. But you know it’s never gonna catch up, let alone bit you on the arse. Although at this point, I still had nightmares of the poodle ripping its way through my gut like an Alien.

And then, the sperm completes its journey and my epiphany is born. The precise moment this happens is when Zokora runs through towards goal with Cech being the only person standing in the way of folklore. And you know what happens next. And nobody can believe it even though the outcome was exactly what we all knew would play out.

But when I held my head up away from my hands, I knew that this miss would not go down in history as a testament of why we always seem to fail when it matters. What had Chelsea done in the game that would lead me to believe they could go on to win it? As a Spurs fan you’d automatically think it’s more likely to be us who give something away or make a mistake. But without anchoring myself to what I would normally expect in that oh so classic defeatist manner, I was free to see the facts.

Chelsea were fucking shit and had no hope in hell of beating us. I was enlightened.

Extra-time. Jenas, not for the first time this season floats in a perfect cross and Woodgate, the most unlikely of heroes nods the ball, which is palmed back onto Woody’s face and into the net. Silk finish, it was not. But when you’ve seen Gary Mabbut score an own goal, you don’t tend to be picky about the quality of a winning goal.





It was a strange moment in the stands, at least where I was. There was almost a delay in celebrations. Fraction of a second if that. The initial header and its journey away from Cech and into Woodgate seemed to take an age. When the ball crossed the line it was Pandemonium Part II.

Keane limped off. Kaboul trotted on. Chelsea huffed and puffed without really scaring us too much, though that’s thanks to a decent stop from Robinson.

When Zokora completed his brace and overplayed a ball to Lennon that would have surely settled it beyond doubt, there was still way too much tension in the Spurs end. Not helped by David Copperfield who plucked out 3 injury time minutes to be added onto the end of the second half of extra time.

One of the best moments of the game was TT wasting time with a throw-on (good to see Spurs are finally learning to do this when it matters) and earning a yellow-card, only for Drogba to come running onto the scene to berate TT, wasting more of the precious time Chelsea had left.

And then the final whistle and 9 sodding piss poor fruitless years come to an end, and for the sixth decade on the trot our players have winner’s medals.




And we got to laugh at Drogba’s complaining to their bitter end.

Who would have ever predicated Jonathan Woodgate scoring the winning goal in a Cup Final for Spurs? Effortlessly brilliant at the back, I pray he stays fit. Same for Ledley.

Jenas and Zokora were superb in the middle of the park. Berbatov, worked hard....in fact, apart from Chimbonda, I don’t have too many complaints.

Maybe had we beaten Bolton or Boro in the final (no disrespect to either of them) then this wouldn’t mean too much. But beating Chelsea also meant that semi-final 5-1 got its icing on the cake.

Spurs stalled under Jol. We all know it. He deserves some credit for what he achieved in building the foundations, but Ramos did something that Jol could not have possibly done. And that’s masterminding the semi-final win and then lifting of the Cup.

Ramos and Poyet have galvanised us. Take this Cup success as the first hurdle crossed in the transitional cross-country race.

The players have tasted success. They have beaten a Top 4 club. They now know they have it in them. And there’s no doubt when the euphoria settles Ramos will gently ease in the mentality that next time, it should be something bigger. Something like the FA Cup, or maybe even the UEFA Cup.




We all know a sustained 4th spot position is the Holy Grail. And we all know that’s still way off. But with the chasing pack taking turns each season, it’s always open to anyone who really gives it a hard push.

So, there I was at Wembley loving every second of it.

That included Robbie Keane’s tears and utter joy at finally winning something. Berbatov also looked like something he hasn’t quite been all season. A Tottenham player. He celebrated like someone who you wouldn’t bet your money on leaving (caught up in the moment?).

And Chimbonda made an appearance along with a Spurs fan that joined in with the celebrations. The fan had more right to be there than Pascal.

Robinson can thank Cerny’s mistake for allowing him a way back into the team. Last thing he expected a few weeks back was for him to be part of the team again.

So as the fireworks fizzled out and the players disappeared down the tunnel (to finally reappear at Faces nightclub) we left Wembley happy. Chelsea fans long gone, it was pretty much the perfect Sunday.




Cheers Juande. Piece of piss wasn’t it mate?