It’s Happening Again, Mummy

Alright, yeah?

Been away for the weekend, I do hope I haven’t missed anythi…

… oh my.

You want us to part as friends? I think I received a letter of similar sentiment from a bird once. Yes absolutely, jump into bed with the next door neighbour and all civilities will be maintained when I see you romping around in their back garden. No problem.

It’s easy to lash out at Luka, and while his comments certainly mean he should be on the receiving end of some very stern fist shaking gestures and ‘evils’, let’s not forget that it’s been our abject failure to finish in fourth place or recruit sufficient numbers of players who match his ambitions that have lead to this. The ITK’s have mentioned enquiries about Aguero, Rossi and Eto’o. A year ago, maybe this could have been passed off as good humoured drunken rubbish. This year it’s pure psychotropic trip-balls delusional fantasy.

At least Levy’s got the techies to copy and paste the same ‘you shall not pass’ message from a couple of years back. ‘’We will not be selling Dimitar Berbatov Robbie Keane Luka Modric for any amount of money. Unless of course, he throws his toys out of the pram, and when that happens, please make sure you have your least promising strikers available for loan and a blank cheque for the Tottenham Hotspur Foundation.’’

‘I thought you were different?’ Something else I’ve heard outside of a footballing arena, but this time, we all thought we’d reeeeeeeally got something made of sterner, loyaler, gooder stuff. As a top footballer, the least classy thing you can do is sign for Manchester City. The second least classy thing you could do is sign for Chelski. I think that might be the basis of at least half of my disappointment. A man I’d revered as not only a classy footballer, but a classy professional and human, suddenly revealing he has ambitions to play at Chelski. Like your missis turning round and telling you she’s leaving you for John Terry. To quote every drunk, dumped girl in the world ‘Why do I always fall for this type of guy?’ ‘Is it meeeeeeee?’ ‘It must be meeeeeeee!’ *weeps pathetically for hours*.

Nothing left but to sit back and watch it fizzle out to its inevitable conclusion. A crumb of consolation would be getting Sturridge thrown into the deal.

The new kits have arrived! I for one always like ‘Orgazmo’. On par with ‘BaseKetBall’, better than ‘Cannibal: The Musical’, not in the league of ‘South Park’ or ‘Team America’, but certainly a noteworthy addition to Trey Parker and Matt Stone’s film career. Nice one Spurs for giving it a bit of recognition. What can you say about the home shirt? It’s white with the badge on it. The re-inventing of the wheel will be at least another year then? The purple one which seems to be coming in for some stick is actually my favourite one, not least because it conjures up images of Sheringham and Klinsmann away at Sheffield Wednesday. Still not going to buy it though, this Plc have had enough money out of me for the time being thank-you-very-much.

Transfer Rubbish: Part 2 (of too many)

Cheeky bid

Can you believe it! Can you ACTUALLY believe it…

The Goonies want Defoe! News this morning from reputable outlets such as the BBC gossip column and some bloke paid by the letter to produce content for FootballRagAndBone.com has the Faces promoter being the answer to scoring more goals down at the Sticklebricks Stadium. Can you imagine Defoe and Walcott in the same side, trying desperately to assist each other putting the round thing in the netty thing? The image of two penguins trying to read a tube map springs to mind. It’s the sort of thing I’d feel bad wishing upon them. But I will.

Oh yeah, and apparently Chelski have lodged a ‘bid’ of 22 million doubloons for the contractual release and services of Luka Jeremiah Lazarus Poseidon Leotard Modric. I say ‘bid’, as it reminds me of the time I found myself at a charity auction for outrageously self-important types, and put in a blind bid of about twenty quid for a two week holiday in Mauritius, just so it looked as if I wasn’t there for the free booze. You never know, maybe nobody else would notice and I’d walk away with the prize? Turns out it went for several hundred times more than that. Or it could mean that perhaps today is some sort of Russian equivalent of April fools.

On the other hand, this could be great news for us, with some sense finally being restored to the transfer market. It will mean that we’ll be free to go and bid 5 million quid for Torres and Sturridge in return, while comfortably having enough left over to buy Suarez and Carroll for 8. Viva la Revolución!

OK, let’s go for a newsnow lucky dip, I’ll be 2 minutes…

…Ah, that’s a shame. Woody released (chortle. guffaw). We’ll always have Wembley *wipes away single tear*

Berbatov back to Spurs when Ashley Young deal is done. We’re doing that again are we?

Something about Harry eyeing up £7m prospect. No sir, you will not have my click.

Well that was depressing. More bleating than a shearing shed over on twitter so I’m off to tell everyone I’ve got a snout in Leicester who’s seen Heskey having lunch with Levy. Toodles.

Stand Up For Martin Jol

Picture courtesy of @mattcg. A link to his Spurs pictures blog is just over there, top left. 

White Hart Lane, Thursday 25^th October 2007. Not four years have passed, but a night so fabled, it already feels like part of Tottenham folklore. The tale of the manager who sat on the bench presiding over his sides 2-1 home defeat to Getafe, the whole ground singing his name as the news began to filter through the cold, huddled collective that the dead man walking had finally keeled over. Sitting on the bench, managing his team, unaware of what everyone else knew. He had been publicly sacked, but there he was, the dignified Dutchman still playing away on the deck of his own sinking vessel, still focused on trying to steer his crew to victorious waters. ‘Stand Up For Martin Jol’, roared the crowd. They did. To add further insult, none but a certain Bulgarian delivered the confirmation; putting his arm around his shoulders after the final whistle and said ‘sorry boss’. Only then did the penny drop for Big Martin Jol.

The courting of Juande Ramos in the lead up to the climactic, and very public, shoeing of BMJ was perhaps the biggest source of shame for us fans; seemingly able to bear the weight of years of under achievement and poor management at every level, but ashamed to see those entrusted with the running of our club treating a man, who had always conducted himself with the utmost grace under fire, so shabbily. We are our club, and our club had just done something that reflected very poorly on us, the blind followers of said institution. Tottenham publicly humiliated the big, cuddly man with the funny accent on live TV, therefore all Tottenham fans are the types who mug old ladies and slash wheelchair tyres. It wasn’t something that sat comfortably with anyone associated with the club.

Affable, honest, no-nonsense- an adopted Englishman and a true Tottenham man we could all relate to, the outpouring of sympathy for the big man was as justified as it was blinkered. The two fifth placed finishes held up in isolation sound impressive, especially given that the first one was a lasagne and a decent away showing away from being a fourth placed, possible UCL qualifier, but things began to slide from there. Unable to recover from the setback, the following seasons 5^th placed finish was nowhere near as impressive, never challenging for fourth, and several poor results were compounded when a classy, Ramos led Sevilla side came and danced around us in the UEFA Cup, exposing the gaps in BMJ’s tactical armoury.

The writing was on the wall from there. Levy had seen how far behind the best that the UEFA Cup had to offer we were, never mind the Champions League, and knew that a change was needed. Terrace support for Jol was generally very good, but a few knew that, deep down, he wasn’t quite good enough to take us to the next level and keep us there. It was obvious to Levy for a long time, and although the means in this case were particularly mean, the removal of Jol was necessary in the pursuit of Champions League football.

There are 3 moments from the reign of BMJ that stick in my memory, and in a way, encapsulate all you need to know about his time at Tottenham.

1)      Going toe-to-toe with Wenger as the Frenchman bleated about a ball that should have been put out of play while one of their lot was down with some sort of ‘injury’. ‘I DID NOT SEE IT’ yelled Jol in the face of the exasperated Wenger. Ironic, grizzly and unmoved. The traits that made him so popular.

2)      Tainio picking up a second booking in the home leg against Sevilla, fouling his opponent who continued rolling once hitting the deck. Tainio then walked after him, making sarcastic rolling motions with his arms to emphasise the dive, but like his manager, had no other answer to the wiley foreign invader than to gesticulate impotently.

3)      Daniel Levy smiling in the Old Trafford stands as we were on course for another annual beating at the hands of Manchester United. ‘This’ll make the whole firing business a bit easier for me’, he appeared to say. Or maybe he was thinking about something funny his mate had said earlier. Either way, it’s an enduring image from Jol-ey’s final domestic outing in the Tottenham tracksuit.

Following his appointment to the Craven Cottage hot seat this morning, there isn’t a Spurs fan out there who won’t be wishing him all the very best, and any Fulham fan looking for a reference from a terrace trotter won’t need to look too far for a glowing one from any of our number. I can guarantee you his commitment to the cause, a hugely likeable man and the odd ‘darling’ to any ladies in the studio. A charmer and a gentleman. Just don’t expect any tactical master classes.

Barely a home game goes by where a member of the double side isn’t trotted out for a mumbled monologue and bit of a wave- great men, but representative of a different time that I and an increasing majority weren’t around to enjoy. I remember Martin Jol fondly, and despite his flaws and the inevitability of his departure, I’ll be looking forward to welcoming back with an ‘apologies on behalf of the club BMJ, we all still really like you’ type applause.

Stand Up for Martin Jol

Transfer Rubbish 2011 Part One (of too many)

What-ho!

Goodness me, we’ve only just got our noses through June’s door, and there’s already been enough chatter, hot air, Chinese whispers and laughable embellishment to make a WI sewing circle blush.

From non-descript forums telling us that some bloke from Bolton has been placing ‘five-figure sums’ on ol’ ‘arry to be the next numero… one at Stamford Bridge, to translation with a slant from Croatia’s Premier daily rag (It’s a Croatian newspaper! Luka is Croatian! It MUST all be true! Why would they lie?!) that Modders will be clearing his locker at The Lodge and leaving fruit baskets for all the pals he can’t wait to run away from, we’ve had some lovely stuff to contemplate, cogitate and digest in the form of micro-blog twit poo’s. *In John Anderson off Gladiators voice* Angry tweeters! You will spew forth on my first whistle. Pragmatists! You will attempt to add reason to proceedings on my second whistle. The rest of you, respond like residents of South Park being asked your opinion on the town’s flag (too obscure???). Three, two, one…

On the Harry stuff, I had an eye witness account from INSIDE Tottenham, that the day prior to all the odds tumbling, Harry had a meeting with ‘Dan’. I am THAT well connected! Not the most sizzling ITK you’ll ever here, but nonetheless, there was confirmed contact, which started the rusty head cogs turning once all the rumours started coming out. Transfer targets or managerial future being the main discussion? As long as it wasn’t anything to do with selling Luka. If it was, I’d like to think of it as being item uno on the agenda, under the title of ‘Things to avoid doing if we want to sell any tickets next year’. Just waiting on newsnow for the lazy, Championship Manager overdose inspired ‘Berba plus cash’ headlines to start. *Checks newsnow. Dies*

Elsewhere, the codneys at FIFA have done it again. It was a nail biter wasn’t it? Was he going to win by 180 votes to nil, or 181 votes to nil? I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Also, BBC, corruption in FIFA is a very legitimate and worthy use of half an hour of prime time viewing, but if you’re going to do investigative Panorama exposés into it, how about you spare us the tourettes riddled old buzzard and employ somebody with a little more presence and reason than a mad uncle. Cheers yeah.

So has Brad Freidel signed then? I can’t bear to look on the official site to check, lest I get ambushed by the endless ‘Opening New Daws’ or ‘Will To Win For Gallas’ headlines that will inevitably cause instant ear haemorrhaging. Not the marquee signature we’re all longing for but a solid edition, knows the English game, other generic ‘looking-on-the-bright-side’ related comment. Welcome.