Daniel Levy; Tottenham Chairman. Quantum Leaper. Part 2.

Maybe the next leap will be the leap home. Editors notes in Italics

Our hero finds himself surrounded by some chaps wearing loose fitting clothing, carrying those bendy swords like out of Aladdin and doing that lalalala sound which is very worrying and dramatic.

‘’Not again’’ says Daniel, looking into camera, shrugging his shoulders and making a Stan Laurel face.

‘’We take you to Sheikh Mansour’’

Credits roll showing Daniel being hoisted onto a camel *Producer Amos Leotard* and being led to a really Arabian looking Taj Mahal type castle in the middle of the desert *Executive Producer Shovels O’Toole* then Daniel is thrust before a ‘proper robed up’ Asian bloke. *Directed by Kool Poon*

‘’So Mr Levy. I must say I am honoured to meet such a master negotiator. In fact, I saw @YidLedge say the other day that you were a genius… but then @SpursBwoi1882 says you’re a tight fisted, brainless moron intent on raping Tottenham of all its assets, only satisfied when you see the Spurs playing Sunday league on Hackney Marshes. So, Mr Levy, which is it?’’

‘’Would it suffice to say that I’m just trying to do what I get paid to do?’’ Retorts Daniel, the constant Leaping is currently playing merry hell with his glands. He also wonders where Andre is and looks around nervously.

‘’NO! There must be only extremes. Do you not know how this works? Anyway, do you have that Adebayor contract drawn up yet?’’ Mansour is rather impatient at this point. He is eager to get back to his favourite hobby of backcombing horse hair and drinking oil.

Daniel produces a document entitled ‘OMFG. Can you imagine if he actually signs this?!’ One of Mansours hooded servants takes the contract from Daniels hand and delivers it to Mansour who is sitting on a throne made from gold and chipmunks. Mansour impatiently signs it, but just as he’s about to hand it back…

‘’What’s this?! Manchester City continue to pay £80k a week, even though he’s a Tottenham player! This is an outrage’’

Points contract back at Levy

‘’Guards, seize him!’’

In a flash, the hooded servant takes off his head scarf to reveal Andre Villas Boas who has been here the whole time. He gives the Sheikh a withering look and says in his graveley voice (sort of like Batman if he’d bothered to munch some ‘Tunes’) :

‘’I’ll take that. Fax very much’’ Alluding to Tottenham’s hilarious use of fax machines in transfers despite it being 2012.

The Sheikh is lost in his dark, brooding eyes and hands over the contract without a moment’s hesitation. Meanwhile, Daniels legendary athleticism comes into play again as he leaps out of the way of the grasping guards onto an inappropriately large child, using him as a springboard to join Andre by the Chipmunk throne.

‘’ That Fax line was a bit shit, but they’re getting better. You got that signed contract?’’ Daniel asks, his eyes scouring the room as approximately seven thousand guards close in on he and his sidekicks elevated platform of relative safety.

‘’Yep, all good, just teleporting it off to The Lodge, they can finally announce the Ade deal’’

‘’Thank fuck for that’’ (Necessary swearing? Yes. This is a pressure cooker situation and Daniel is a lithe, powerful man in need of expressing extremes of emotion. I will fight tooth and nail to keep that ‘fuck’ in the final edit). ‘’Never thought I’d say this but when are we leaping?’’

‘’Good news, we’re off to the Ukraine in 8 seconds. @AgentFabricate has us there discussing  a deal for Willian’’

‘’You mean William?’’

‘’No, it’s Willian. He’s Brazilian’’

‘’Sure he’s not BraziliaM? Hahaha. Top  bant’s Andre. Top bloody bant’s. Let’s do one.’’

Guards all pounce to where Daniel and Andre are standing, but the light shards have already appeared, and the guards end up in a heap on the floor where our heroes once stood.

*Kaleidoscopic whoosh through the universe*

Daniel lands on his backside on an immaculately manicured lawn.

‘’Where am I now?’’ Questions Daniel forlornly. The camera pans out to reveal he has landed underneath a ‘Welcome To Glorious Donbass Arena. Home of Masterful Shakhtar Donetsk (check that we can replace that sign with all the funny Russian writing on it with an English one).

Credits roll. Daniel is dusted off by a kindly Ukrainian wearing an ‘I *heart* Socialism’ t-shirt *Producer Brenda Cream* and led up to the Shakhtar corridors of power *Executive Producer Flaps Piping* The kindly Ukrainian shows Daniel to the directors bathroom as he’s dying for a piss, and then kindly Ukrainian phones his local despotic councillor to donate all of his life savings to build a crocodile-sized bookcase for his local school to underline how much he loves education/crocodiles/socialism *Director Swastika Stool*

Daniel unzips, a moment of calm at last for the leaping Tottenham director.

‘’Ur-in(e) for some work here boss’’ Says Andre, appearing from one of the marbled cubicles. Check appropriateness of piss gag, although, to be fair, we’re in a men’s toilet, there must be at least one or people are just going to switch over and look for them elsewhere.

‘’Wheeeeeeey, nice one Andre. They’re getting better’’ says Daniel, his mood elevated with every pube rinsed away from the backboard. (Check approximately how pubic each Ukrainian is to ensure this would tally up)

‘’According to twitter, many clubs have tried to prize Willian away from Shakhtar. None have succeeded’’ says Andre; nervously but handsomely.

‘’None have been Daniel Levy; Tottenham Chairman, Quantum Leaper’’ Just to anchor back to the programme title ‘’and besides, I’ve never heard of this guy. The itk’s have only been talking about him for a couple of days. It’s not like Ade or Modric. This one’s a wildcard, so let’s spring a surprise’’

*Cuts to Shakhtar boardroom with 5 men who all look like Ivan Drago wearing Shevchenko hats*

‘’So chaps, what are you after for your boy?’’ Enquires Daniel.

‘’Twenty million British pounds’’ Insert extra borderline xenophobic typical Eastern block dialogue.

‘’For a lad who can’t even spell his own name? I’ll give you Jenas, a Ford Capri and half a pot of tiger balm. Take it or leave it you slaaaaaaaaaaaags’’

Andre shakes his head and worries that the leaping is causing some serious brain malfunctions. He holds the twitter synched handlink up and accesses the brain scanning function, revealing that Daniel has unfortunately channelled Danny Dyer and his knowledge of Ukrainian ‘firms’. This could spell disaster. Meanwhile the Shev-hatted board members begin to bristle at Daniels tone and begin to crack their knuckles.

‘’Will you excuse us momentarily, gentlemen’’ Says Andre, grabbing Daniels arm and dragging him out of the boardroom.

Out in the hallway, Andre shouts ‘’GET A GRIP’’ really dramatically

‘’Leave it aaaaahhhhttttt saaahhhhnnnn’’ Replies Daniel

In a furious flurry of violence, Andre slaps Daniel upside the chops, in a manner only appropriate between the very best of friends. This goes to show that despite a bit of bickering every now and again, they really are as close as 2 frogs in a bag.

‘’Thanks Andre, don’t know what came over me’’ Says Daniel, apologetically, but in a way where he knows that Andre doesn’t really need an apology because they’re such great mates and it doesn’t matter

‘’That’s ok Dan, it’s this constant leaping. It’s whomping up your thought box. Besides, we’re such great mates, it doesn’t matter’’ Replies Andre, confirming the tone of Daniels previous line of dialogue.

‘’Let’s get out of here. We need to get this Damiao deal finalised before anything else anyway’’

‘’Well that’s a bit of luck, @AgentOracle has you haggling a fee in 3, 2, 1…’’

*Kaleidoscopic whoosh through the universe*

To be continued...

Daniel Levy; Tottenham Chairman. Quantum Leaper. Part 1.

Maybe the next leap will be the leap home. Editors notes in Italics

*Kaleidoscopic whoosh through the universe*

Our hero finds himself in a bull ring in Madrid. Credits roll. *Producer Abigail Liquorice* We can tell it’s Spain because there are lots of Spanish flags everywhere, and nobody working in the afternoon. *Executive Producer Calculator Seaman* A small child with a moustache holds up an ‘I *heart* Madrid’ sign to narrow down the geographical location.*Directed by Alan Whore*

‘’What’s this red cloth doing in my hands? And why do I have this funny coat on?’’

Daniel looks up and see’s a bull charging at him.

‘’Yikes, time for me to get outta (out of) here’’

Daniel, surprisingly fleet of foot, throws down the cloth and performs miraculous somersaults to escape the charging bull and manages to escape over safety hoardings, made mostly of straw and the shattered dreams of orphans, to great boos from the crowd.

‘’Glad I didn’t get the horn’’ Daniel remarks, hoping Andre is around to hear it. Turns out it doesn’t really make much sense and isn’t particularly funny.

‘’I heard it boss’’ says Andre, appearing from behind a parked tricycle, no hint of a smile.

‘’Oh there you are Andre. Sorry, not much good with double entendres’’

‘’How about ‘I really lost my rag’? You know, because you threw the cloth away’’.

‘’Bit shit though’’

‘’True enough. Anyway, the Handlink has been synched to twitter. According to this, @AgentSeatSniffer has you in Madrid for the next 17 minutes to get the Modric deal completed’’

‘’Fuck me!’’- Daniel is not averse to swearing. Also, he doesn’t have to worry about getting in trouble with NewsNow for swearing. Because he’s a rebel.

‘’To The Bernebau quick-smart. We’ll get the deal finished for Modric, then I can tell all of the ITK’s who I know personally so that the full and accurate account of all our dealings are reported’’, quips the confusingly handsome Andre.

*cuts to Bernebau boardroom with about 10 blokes who all look like Rafa Benitez*

‘So it’s agreed then’, sighs Daniel, ‘We’ll take £35 million, you can report it at £30m to make it sound like you’ve got a bargain, and we’ll report it at £40m to make it sound like we haven’t been rolled over by Johnny Foreigner’ Daniel now has a hint of annoyance in his voice; this is at least his 14^th leap to Madrid. He senses that it won’t be his last.

‘There was just one more thing…’ says Rafa Benitez #4 ‘I was speaking to Rafa #7 about the installments’

‘Installments!’ Booms Daniel. Andre turns away, such is his chairman’s wrath. But before things can escalate, Daniel is discombobulated (check meaning!) in a shower of low budget spikey light shards, as he and Andre are transported to…

*Kaleidoscopic whoosh through the universe*

Our hero finds himself thrust into a compromising position with the FC Porto chief transfer negotiators wife in the groundmans wash room, covered in ham.

‘’Woh’’ says Daniel, but as the title music begins, the 30 second montage of him completing deals for Kaka, Benzema and Patrick Kluivert presumes enough time to have elapsed for the whole misunderstanding to be put to put to rest.

Daniel and chief negotiator shake hands while opening credits roll *producer Aristotle Shoepolish*, sweeping the whole wife/bathroom/ham affair under the carpet with a firm handshake. *Executive producer Cornelius Gelatine*Mrs Negotiator goes and has tea with Eusebio and his wife (or something). *Directed by Tim Shit*

‘’Are we FINALLY getting my Mouty Call’’ asks Andre, appearing from behind a used apricot.

‘’Don’t call him that, it sounds well weird. I prefer it when you talk about his dimensions, although I have to say that doesn’t sit too comfortably either. How come we had to leap, we were just about to close the deal with Madrid for Modric!? Again!’’ Daniel is VERY flangey at this point

‘’It’s syncing the handlink to twitter that’s done it. @AgentWebTrawler has you in Porto finalising the deal for Moutinho. We’ve only got another 11 minutes before the next leap, so let’s get it done’’

‘’Agreed’’

*cuts to boardroom with chief negotiator and Chairman Pablo Untrustworthio*

‘’So Monsieur Untrustworthio (check language), despite the fact that you are a chairman much like myself, and you want the best deal for your player, I’m afraid I’ve been shouted at in block capitals over twitter about not signing anybody, so let’s get this done at £20m and say no more about it’’

‘’No, I think Moutinho is worth £25m. There’s still some work to do’’ Chairman and negotiator twiddle the ends of their moustaches mischievously and rearrage their  sombreros (check cultural relevance)

‘’I don’t think you’re quite getting this mate/bruv’’ Dropping Ray Winstone impressions into negotiations is a tactic often employed to bamboozle rival chairman and transfer negotiators ‘’@BiggestSpursFanEver has just tweeted saying, and I quote, ‘’FFS LEVY! JUST GO AND SIGN A GOALKEEPER/ DEFENDER/ MIDFIELDER/FORWARD’’

‘’I understand, but…’’ attempts by the chief negotiator to break Daniel off while he meticulously scours fan tweets (at least 90% of his working day) does not go down well.

‘’HASHTAG COYS HASHTAG INLEVYITRUST HASHTAG GETITFACKINDONEYOUTIGHTTWAT. I am going to stand here belligerently shouting, crying and throwing money about until this is done.’’

‘’Erm, boss’’ chirps Andre, looking worriedly down at the Handlink

‘’Not now, I’ve got these guys on the rack. Just watch and learn. This is how a master negotiator rolls’’

‘’But boss, @AgentScrote has you in Abu Dhabi in 3,2, 1’’

*Kaleidoscopic whoosh through the universe*

To be continued…

ITK's and Other Cliched Pre-Season Rubbish

Blogtacular salutations old chums. It’s been a while.

So what’s been happening since I last updated? AVB appointed, a mad rush of signings in consecutive days (erm…2), and then lots of chatterboxing. We also played some games of football that we either won, drew or lost, that apparently mean nothing but are also great indicators of who will be starring for us this season. Got it? Laments on ITK’s are perhaps duller than the characters who promote themselves as said oracles, but let’s not pretend we don’t all love it, and that without it, it would just be a summer of the OS and F4. There’s only so many times one can hear about some youngster in the academy being out to ‘Earn His Spurs’ *eeeuuuurrrrggggghhhhh*, before you have to accept what wonderful background music it provides to this crazy footballing orchestra who assemble on timelines and forums throughout the land.

Still, there’s only so many times you can hear that it’s Ade’s/Citeh’s/Spurs’ fault that that particular Festival de Snooze hasn’t sparked into action, or that discussions with Madrid are ‘ongoing’, before the temples need a serious massaging, and a step away from the info boxes to get back to reali…

… ooooooh, Soldado! Now that sounds interesting *haemorrhages from ears* *dies*

With Modric finally being off (hopefully), my prediction, for what it’s worth, is that being fans of the good news/bad news management sandwich, his ‘we wish him all the best for the future’ will be buried somewhere between someone ‘earning his spurs’, Defoe once again being really brilliant at goal getting for the mighty English (but still ignoring the fact that he’s a bit rubbish), and further trampled by announcements of incomings. In other words, it’ll all be done at once. Also, expect someone that nobody has mentioned coming along, followed by ‘I knew there was something going on, but this is another ‘rabbit out of the hat’ and they have been very secretive about this’. Maybe a  ‘even MY source wasn’t privy to this’. And with all the RVP nonsense, it might be a good day to get this one sewn up and buried asap. Just hearing that AVB will be holding a press conference this afternoon. Will this be to discuss the Newcastle game, OR HAVE WE SIGNED EVERYONE WE’VE BEEN PROMISED?!?!?

But more important than all of this is just how we’ll end up doing this season, and a few predictions. A point on Saturday would do, and if we’re not top 3 after 6 games, expect mass panic. At close of play in May 2013, top 4 is doable, and should be the aim. You’ll hear talk of being happy with 6^th as long as there are signs of improvement, but this isn’t a fantasy land, and while it won’t be a sackable offense, won’t be tolerated to the levels that many are already alluding to. Get it right now or get out. I just hope the powers that be are brave enough to stick to their convictions and at least give him a chance to top 2 from 8.

Other than that: goals will be scored, others conceded, there will be poor refereeing decisions and ‘I can’t wait for video technolog-ies’, with some liberal measures of footballers airing their dirty undies on the twitbox and being told off for doing so. And Di Matteo looking like someone drew a face on a balloon.

Rio’s Premier Prediction: Di Matteo to sacked before Christmas, Redknapp, who has already been lined up as cover, then acts as caretaker until next summer when Guardiola is finally appointed. You heard it here at some point.

The Boas Constrictors

Get used to the puns, you’ll be seeing a lot of them.

There appears to be a real disconnect with what has been reported as being the fans mood to the appointment of Andres Villas-Boas, to what we have been reading. I say ‘we’, as, if you’re reading this, you’re more than likely to be somebody who seeks out an online opinion, as opposed to those who read the red tops and listen to TalkPoop radio, and among ‘us’, there appears to be universal approval. Andres is ‘one of us’, or certainly, we’d like to think he is; modern, a student of the game, theoretical, an absorber of facts and opinion to devise strategy. AVB: The Champo Generations, thinking mans, Carol Vorderman Manager.

He’s not someone who’s easy to label. He’s not the happy-go-lucky, wheeler dealer, cockney wideboy, rent-a-gob. He shuns the Redknapp-style catch phrases in favour of ‘phases’, and speaks of ‘transitons’ and ‘low blocks’. It’s easier for these people to relate to the easily digestible ‘well, we had to go for it, so I threw Crouchy on… etc’ type of viewpoint, than of a man who’s spent his youth meticulously picking apart the smallest facets of the modern game. The same people who cry out for an English ‘La Masia’, and singularly fail to acknowledge any of the components that make it tick. ‘Well they just tell ‘em to ‘old onto it and give it simple’. Anything more complicated and it’s ‘football’s not a science’, ‘football’s not played on a tactics board/computer’. ‘Watch out for the big centre-half on set pieces’, versus horizontal and vertical penetration *snigger*.

Could it be plain old jealousy from these so-called journalists? A handsome, educated young man who has achieved more footballing success at the tender age of 34, than these windbag chair softeners have in their 50-odd.

The smear campaign has already begun. Apparently, employing a manager is a ‘gamble’? Did you hear about this? If only we could get hold of that crystal ball that Manchester United used all those years ago before employing Fergie. How remiss of our chairman to gamble, rather than get the clairvoyants in.

Also, he has to tap into that most basic of human physical, social and professional survival skills and ‘learn from mistakes’. Well, well Mr Villas Boas, did you hear that? You’re going to have to do something that only EVERY OTHER PERSON ON EARTH has the ability to do. Reckon you can manage that? Are you sure, it’s a tough one?!

Initial impressions are positive. Spurs themselves announced that the first thing Mr Villas Boas did after signing his contract was to check the state of the training pitches. A lot of this blog is in support/recognition of this article from the Telegraph (bit.ly/nvV9XJ), and an attention to detail is part of  a more modern and professional approach. Like many Tottenham fans, I just want a dedicated professional doing his best for our Totters, not someone who takes their eye off the ball and singularly fails to do what they’re employed to do. I don’t expect the title, but I do expect to see direction. A point to it all, an ethos, a philosophy. I like hearing things like having dossiers prepared on the opposition. I’m not too keen about having our players being told to ‘run about a bit’. I too have contempt for the gutter press and don’t mind if our manager does. Scowling answers to their contemptable questions will be welcome. All the better if they’re laced with a little wit. Less rent-a-quote, flippant responses designed to get a giggle from- and give a headline to- the redtops and talkpoop’s of this world, and more facts. Or better yet, keeping things to one’s self.

Believe it or not, I like the term ‘project’- it gives the impression of a far more professional approach to a club that has, sadly, descended into a bit of a used car dealership in recent times. It’s how successful organisations with a strategy and goals talk- Apple, Microsoft, Google, the people that make Angel Delight. Why should Tottenham Hotspur be exempt from this? And if it’s a relationship you’re looking for, both chairman and manager speak the same language. Again, no surprise to see Levy getting his name dragged through the gutter in all of this as well. The weak will always try to sabotage the strong, particularly when they have no way of pigeon-holing their intentions.

My only worry? The players being a bit too thick to take his ideas on board. It would be unfair to label all English footballers ‘thicko’s’, and all of the European mainland philosophical geniuses, in a footballing sense, but I do fear when I look into Kyle Walkers dead eyes, or read about the youth team popping off to nando’s to fuel up before their big PES session, or whatever it is the kids are doing these days to avoid work, mind expansion and responsibility. Buying a couple of lads with long, fancy, European names should help…

So Mr Villas Boas. I say to you, welcome. I would also say ‘ignore the press’, but like most of us with half a brain, you can see through their shallow agenda… and certainly won’t be trolling any blogs for tips on what to do.

In other news, because Google are gaylords, this site is no longer on NewsNow. Something to do with corrupting the blog with something or other. I’m far too lazy to work out what the problem is, so it’s back to just talking into the darkness. If you have found this blog, well played. Why not tell your friends or pets who might support Tottenham and be adept enough to use the interbox?

Born On The First of July

Hello Tottenhamers

Muchos excitmentinados! The 1^st of July is fast approaching, which means that we can start getting some commitment ink onto some legally binding paper very shortly. Word on the cyber streets is that AVB is to be named el presidente of Tottenham Hotspur v20.12 slash 13, but the identity of his posse of gringos is providing some interesting side stories.

Apologies for the fluent Spanish being spouted above. The missis made me a rather nice Mexican style breakfast this morning, and I think it’s affecting my word combobulations. And Spain are playing later. I’m so on trend.

To Spain! and it’s understood that that’s exactly where young Modders will be plying his trade next year. Jose wanted David Silva to add to the attacking luminaries currently on show, but it’s little Modders who’s now been identified as the man to come in, and in turn, make them a bit more Barcelona-ey. All that keeping possession and finding a team mate nonsense is over rated anyway. The lad’s in need of a move, and if his half-hearted efforts last season on the promise of an escape this summer were to be stone walled again, I shudder to think what we’ll get this term. Even though player part-ex deals seem to exist only in Champo 97/98, it hasn’t stopped young Sahin’s name being thrown in as part of the deal. I won’t lie, I know nothing about him beyond him being Turkish, quite promising, and having no chance of ever appearing in a Spurs shirt.

Gylfi Sigurdsson! Gylfster, Gylfo, The Big Gylf. El Glylferino. He must have impressed the newly promoted Tim Sherwood on his trips to keep an eye on young Ledley 2, Steven Caulker, as he’s poised to spurn the advances on Swansea (because Brendan Rodgers isn’t there anymore), and Liverpool (because Brendan Rodgers i…), to join AVB’s White Hart revolution. There have been quite a few Liverpool fans doing great impressions of wet hens on the Twitbox at the very idea that he should choose the Spursers over their club. Presumably they are all still discussing the Berlin wall coming down as ‘potentially good’ as well.

Aaaaaaaaand Jan Vertonghen. This one’s dragged on a bit hasn’t it? My theory is he actually signed weeks ago and it’s just a lot of chat to keep things interesting by the print media until 1^st July. And by ‘interesting’, I of course mean ‘Michael Owen twitter timeline watchingly dull’. First we were stalling over a couple of mill’, then it was Ajax who were playing hardball, and now it’s Jan who’s sulking over a transfer fee percentage. It’ll be our fault again tomorrow and the deeply unpleasant merry-go-round of blame stories will continue to rotate until a bemused Jan arrives to pick his shirt up and asks why everyone looks wee wee’d off with him.

Right, I’m off to enjoy my birthday.

What? Nah, 23!, 25 at a push, but… aaaah, embarrassing. You guys are too much. Thanks, thanks very much. Cakes on Pete’s desk.

What Do You Mean Harry's Gone?

Hello everyone.

I’ve been in France for the past week, hope I haven’t missed mu…

Oh my.

The ‘well this is MY view on the Redknapp tinning…’ has been done to death, so rather than saturate the market further, I’ll attempt to soak it up and squeeze the analysis sponge over your tired eyes and ‘on the one hand’ brain scales, and put forth the following.

The people whose blogs and opinions I find myself largely in agreement with through the rough and smooth of following this mob of ours, have presented essentially the same conclusion. Namely, thanks for the good stuff, but I’ll be shedding no tears for a man who valued personal gain over doing his job properly. I can only agree.

A squad containing so much quality, we shouldn’t have been concerned by a sorry excuse for goalkeeping at West Brom or a shambles of a Champions League final. A second late-season collapse in a row, this time with a tangible distraction to pin it on. Not good enough, and we can do better than this self-serving window blabber. If Harry walked into Apple and colour coded the bins, he’d claim credit for making it into a market leader.

So it looks like failed expensive Wimbledon Chelsea badger AVB or crab-mouthed boursin-botherer Matt Le Blanc seem to be edging ahead in the managerial gallop. Quite how Laurent would have found time to have had any form of discussion over our vacant recaro I don’t  know, but gun to the head… I quite like the idea of AVB striking back at the football world, wielding Tottenham Hotspur as his mighty staff (ooh, er), smiting doubters and building an empire where a load of garages and fried chicken shops once stood.

And how about them Oy-row Championisings eh? Greece, they are cards aren’t they? And funny little England. Haha, look at them there with their belief and flags and beer. Lovely stuff.

I’ve put money on Ukraine.

The Tottenham Tumble Dryer (or how I channelled Partridge to deal with this mess)

This is it. This is LITERALLY ‘IT’.

Finish third and the history books will have this down as a glorious campaign; a fight against all odds to secure a position behind the 2 teams that gave us a walloping in the first couple of rounds, only for us to dust ourselves off and fight off the challenge from the best of the rest. Perennial Champions Leaguers, the ‘South London Migrants Select XI’, and said competitions current finalists Nazi FC, while also seeing off the extraordinarily spirited effort of the Mag’s from Geordieland.

Finish fourth with Third Reich Rovers winning the champey pot (slash) finish fifth, and it’s been an unmitigated disaster. A lesson in exactly what not to do when poised for achievement. Salvaging utter incompetence from the jaws of very very unincompetence.

Inches, my friends. This game is measured in tiny margins, as Al Pacino sort of said in that film about Americanised Football.

There are those that will say that they and everyone involved at Spurs would have taken this scenario after the first 2 games ‘all day long’. There are others who, walking away from the Newcastle game with a conviction that this team could be something a bit special, now feel a bit guilty/stupid/angry for finding their hopes thrown into a big, sort of football related tumble dryer, with no idea what will come out. Will it be the warm, soft, automatic 3^rd place denim shirt (put on an ‘extra cupboard dry’ cycle and a sheet of ‘bounce’ which makes them smell really, really nice and easier to iron) that keeps us cool, and looking razor sharp over the  summer months, or will it be the shrunken, smelly (bounce-less) vest t-shirt that should have been thrown away a long time ago but I just haven’t got time to go shopping for under garments that nobody other than my wife ever see, that will intermittently embarrass us until it’s time to cross swords again?  

For what it’s worth, I think Woolwich will get a draw. I also think we’ll match that result, meaning we’ll need Everton to get a point at home to the Mag’s. Which they probably will.

Who knows what’ll get served up on Sunday. I’m almost beyond caring at this stage, but know it’ll be my only focus come 3pm Sunday. One thing I’ve learnt this season is that I have literally zero effect on the outcome of any match, there or not, watching or not. There’s always a tiny part in the back of each of our minds, a little ego perhaps, that tells us our attendance or our viewing of a game will somehow affect the outcome. Surely it’s not just me? We’re all just socks in the giant Tottenham Hotspur tumble dryer, thrown around at the whim of whether Gareth spent too much time in Faces the night before, or whether Harry thinks Parker for VdV is a good idea. Sometimes we win (warm jet of air- still with the tumble dryer motif), sometimes we lose (buffeted against other potentially wet/odoured socks), and sometimes we draw (collision near a warm air jet).

Another Typically Tottenham season.

Bayern Munich scarves at the ready.