We Can Still Go Fourth

                                    Yeah, I couldn't find the actual PMA advert. It's lost in time...

Well it would seem that I have assumed the role of the trousers-round-the-ankles, tea cosy hat wearing, casio keyboard playing in the high street, mentally deranged hobo, in my backing of the Totters to dramatically clinch fourth place, starting with a win at Stamford Bridge. A pox on 6^th place, I’m not giving up hope that this will still be a season to remember, despite the bombardment of logic. No no, I’m fine, honestly. I’ll be on the cross if anyone wants me.

Another away trip to a ‘top 4’ ground where we haven’t won since the old King died; Ho-hum, groan groan, or the beginnings of a truly Tottenham-inspired script? They’ve picked up 22 from the last 24 Premier points, while we’ve not won away since our trip to a woefully out-of-form Sunderland. Sounds like it’s about time they lost a game of footers to me. Oliver Stone’s attached to direct.

Tongue out of cheek for a moment, we are obviously not favourites, but we’ve still got a decent shout. Is a win at chelski, and a spammers win up at citeh, really that out of the question? If you can accept that, no, it isn’t beyond the realms of possibility, then we might actually be back in the driving seat by the time I get a chance to sit down in front of this wordey flicker box again. Lamenting the failings of our troops, and looking at the increasingly extraordinary attitude of Harry Redknapp in the face of reasonable criticism can wait until the end of the season. For now, we’ve got games to win, and a PMA from the supporters wouldn’t go amiss.

Team news? Benny’s twisted giblet looked a bit painful, so it’ll probably be Bassong at LB, while I’m sure Crouch will be deployed alongside VdV. The only one I have any sort of burning desire to see is Sandro, who has been excellent every time (apart from Bolton away, obviously) he’s pulled on a Tottenham shirt, and I’d be willing to wager will be there with Modric and Kyle Walker as the first names on our team sheet for next season.

Don’t see any point in talking about their lot and who they will or will not have up front. They’re in the way of us and 3 points, so let’s get our heads down and set about breaking through, and help me hoik those kecks of mine just a little bit higher.

Don’t Stop Believin’

A later reaction than Gareth Bale in a penalty box, but the important thing is, this literary tumble has finally appeared. And it’s probably best that it’s been a few days since Saturday’s disappointment, because I’d hate for it to come across as an embarrassing attempt at cheerleading on the deck of a sinking ship.

At 1-1, I said it had 2-1 written all over it. When the fourth of four excellent finishes appeared, fourth place was effectively done fo(u)r, and we’re now four points behind. No sooner had we wrested the initiative back with a point over the goonies, than we go and hand it straight back. Annoying.

Despite the dropped points, I was strangely unconcerned. My ‘both teams to score’ acca came in, so that could be blamed for drowning out the sound of the death knell momentarily, but that evening, the next day, and even after City’s win last night which, if you believe the twitteratti, was supposedly the final nail in our coffin, I’m still not filled with doom and gloom of defeat. Perhaps I’m kidding myself in thinking that we’re still going to do it, but that equaliser was pure theatre. Pure Tottenham.

To start, we weren’t that bad. Not spectacular by any means, but not too bad. We’ve played worse and won. We’re also not Manchester United, capable of unfussyily grabbing 3 points from a largely forgettable encounter 9 times out of 10. Don’t be too down hearted, we’re not at their level yet. What we are is a largely well run club with several on field personnel that can still make us a fourth placed team. Micro-analysis of dropped points aside, I honestly still believe we’re still a club moving forward.

When have we ever done anything the easy way? I don’t mean this to come across as a submissive lament; how a besotted guardian will shake their head at a naughty puppy, smiling all the while with a giggle in their tone, but as a straight-faced statement of it being exactly the way we roll. To counter the doom mongers, when has every predicted result ever come in? If it was that easy to predict with certainty and with 5 games to go (some Nostradami have had us written off since March or earlier), who ourselves and Manchester City will be beating or getting beaten by, I wouldn’t be getting excited about a one-off acca win. I’d quit my job and be a professional gambler, leaving a string of broken bookmakers in my wake.

I’m not saying I have an unwavering belief that we’ll finish fourth. We’ve thrown away enough points to make it almost inconceivable that we could even still consider finishing in the top four a possibility. But so it remains, and if we were chasing down any of the more established sides, I’d make us rank outsiders for turning around a 4 point deficit with 5 games to go, but we’re chasing down Manchester City. Manchester bloody City! A side that have never had this kind of pressure thrust upon them, and a team that will be relying on Dzeko and Balotelli to score the requisite number of goals from now until the end of the season to keep them there. Such has been their ‘impact’, I wouldn’t bank on them bringing the requisite number of boots into training.

I am of course basing all hope, like every Tottenham fan, on our ability to go up to MiddleEastlands and turn in a repeat performance of last year, without which we certainly will be rank outsiders. If we then assume that we will succeed, we’ve got a one point swing to deal with- we’ll say 2, what with the goal difference. 2 points to turn around and you’d think we were facing an ascent of Everest in shorts and t-shirt, such is the hopelessness of our prospects. Or maybe it’s self preservation? Write us off and wash your hands of all supporting responsibility? Not on my watch, and while there’s a very realistic chance we can still return to the top table, I’ll still believe we can do it.

Tottenham are 9/1 to finish fourth. I’m in!

Tottenham v arsenal- Player Ratings

Another great picture from @mattcg. A link to his Spurs drawings blog is there on the left.

Gomes, 3- ‘I’m tryin’ real hard Ringo. I’m tryin’ real hard to be the good shepherd’. I maintain he’s a good keeper but he’s being pedalled out while struggling for form. Is his missis doing the dirty on him? Is he losing sleep over the plight of the rainforest? Whatever it is, get the required psychological super glue or sticky tape out to fix his head back in place for the next 6 games.

Charlie, 4- Wallpaper. Early assist for VdV aside, his presence was only highlighted when Kaboul (6) came on and contrived to provide a threat in his stead.

Dawson, 7- Lost count of the number of times I yelled ‘WIN IT!’, followed immediately by ‘WELL UP DAW’S!’. Those with the privilege of watching the super slow-mo on their goggle boxes are saying he was at fault for at least one of the goals. If he was, the balance of his contribution was good enough for him to walk off the pitch with his head held high.

Gallas, 7.5- Battled like a… bloody…lion. A lion with cramp. Among the favourites for our player of the season.

Benny, 9- …and so is he. Are you watching Alan Hanson? Time and time again, he was strong, clever and efficient with his distribution. An almost faultless display from a player who rarely gets the plaudits he deserves. Outstanding, young man.

VdV, 8 (bonus point for the goals)- Better, but still not the assured touch of early season. Two great finishes, and done his level best to be as ‘orrible as every one of their lot. Very promising for the sprint finish.

Mods, 6- Weak. Not often I say that, but he bottled a couple of 50/50’s and was knocked off the ball too easily. Still composed enough in possession to have been decent. Unlucky not to get the penalty.

Thudd, 4- Goal aside, he was the wrong side of average. Back in body but not in form. Hehehehehe. Bodyform.

Bale, 3- Unfit? Brainless? When you’ve got half a pitch to run into, don’t amble about looking at Luka’s feet, get on yer bloody bike. Don’t believe the hype, you’re not that good Gareth. Thankfully replaced by:

Lennon, 7- Genuinely had them worried. Wonderful run to draw the penalty. Wiki link him to ‘impact sub’.

Pav, 6- Ran about a bit, worked hard, found a team mate most of the time. Wasn’t given any chances and didn’t create any. Replaced by:

Sandro, 7- More of this type of thing young man, and you’ll be first on the team sheet with Luka next season. Harrys biggest gaff of the night was choosing Thudd over our Brazilian ball buster from the off.

Crouch, 6.5- Won lots of stuff in the air in our box and in theirs. Pushed all over the place but didn’t get any favours from the man in black. Carried a threat from first to last.

Torturous to behold, but some great stuff to look back on. The point is more useful to us as it at least puts us in the driving seat for fourth, while theirs effectively ends any slim hopes they had of a late title bid. And now they’re third.

Not around tomorrow for a West Brom preview, but suffice to say that the point salvaged last night will go from ‘mildly disappointing’ to ‘decent’ if we do what we ought to and give Woys boys a darn good thrashing.

Tottenham v arsenal- Our Past Sins and the Turning Tide

This NLD business was a lot easier when we were rubbish. For the 10 years prior to the last few, the Lilywhites played the plucky, at best, losers to the goonies as they went in search of greater prizes. It was our ‘cup final’, where we’d occasionally flirted with victory, but inevitably had to settle for a point at best while watching them turn attentions to the bigger fish in the Premier pond; our own reign of incompetence seeing them treat the annual Tottenham visits and excursions as ‘just another fixture’ to swat away. There was always a sense that their followers struggled to rouse even the most basic of schoolyard posturing, every inevitable victory after every insipid Tottenham surrender, such was often the manner of our collapses. At least they were good enough to recognise that we were still rivals in a local sense, just enough for us to feel that ignominious sting of derby defeat that little bit more.

But this is a brave new world where, keep it to a whisper if you must, but the tide is turning. ‘F**K OFF YOU DELUDED SPUD C**T’, is a typically eloquent response you may tease out from one of their wandering, dead-eyed troglodytes to this particular suggestion; not because they don’t see it, and feel the need to point out how wrong we are, but in fact because they know, being on the fading crest of their early-noughties wave, that we’re right. And they’re more than a little worried. Want proof? Anyone who bore witness to the truly pathetic and *literal* song and dance that their fans made after beating (after extra-time) our youth/second string (not in their universe where there’s half a team of first team regulars, mixed with a second string, but an ACTUAL team of youth and second string) in the Carling Cup will testify to how monumental this was for them. Redemption for last year’s title hope quashing defeat at fortress White Hart? Not quite.

Further proof? The fun we all had following our win at their place earlier this season. If the game didn’t bring enough smiles to our faces; our message boards alive with Spurs fans indulging in online group-hugging to an almost sickening level to follow our sickeningly sweet triumph, but for once, the intrusion of their number into our territory was welcomed whole-heartedly, as the baiting, back-biting and the sheer stench of their desperate protestations was a joy to behold; quoting their ‘invincibles’ and stating that they’re a team on the verge of something truly special one moment, then accusing us of living in the past and labouring under delusion the very next. You couldn’t make it up.

And let’s not forget the joy they took in laughing off our pursuit of Champions League football; written off and derided at every turn, with the inevitable ‘u woz aaat ov yur depf’ when we finally succumbed the most successful side in the history of the competition. I’d offer an equally predictable ‘how was your quarter-final?’ in retort, but their disappearing smiles as we marched on and marched beyond their best efforts  in our debut season, summed up their embarrassment better than I could ever hope to do.

So to our impending clash at The Lane, where the water bottles of Tottenham have been put on red alert for the arrival of Doctor Wenger. The past be damned, as the measure of any decent side is their ability to bounce back from adversity, and surely with a burning desire to avoid being remembered as the seasons comic relief, that lot haven’t fallen so far as to not be considered a significant challenge.

Good news for us sees Emptycrates winning-goal bagger Kaboul ready to be selected at right-back, although Harry’s caution in allowing Charlie to continue there against Real could mean that he sits out the start to provide an extra threat towards the closing stages should it be required. Lennon and Bale are almost certain starters, but will Harry stick with the Mods/Thudd partnership that proved to be a winning combo against the same opposition last year, or will he be tempted to shoe-horn the off-colour VdV in at the expense of Pav? It wouldn’t be my choice, but I’m guessing that’s exactly what he’ll do.

The NLD business is a lot more complicated for us these days. No longer just our one cup final, but one of many in this new era of competitive and intent-filled Tottenham campaigns. Defeat wouldn’t quite kill off the dream of a return to the big time, but it certainly wouldn’t help, and now that this fixtures resonance goes beyond mere pride, it will smart all the more. Win, and we catapult ourselves into the driving seat for another go, and in so doing, extinguish any remaining hopes they had of challenging for the title. Just like last year.

It’s on the edge of the edge, of the edge, of a knife edge this one, but here’s to 3-1 to the men of Hotspur.

Gareth Bale and Doctor Wenger’s Wonderful Fanschmabulous Imaginarium

So Gareth Bale wins the PFA player of the year award. Even in victory however, there are still plenty of things to complain about as a Totter, like how he’d probably not even be OUR player of the year (that one should surely be Luka’s?), or how he isn’t even, statistically speaking, the most ‘productive’ Welshman in the league; an accolade that falls to Simon Davies who’s provided more chances and assists than our boys-own hero. While I’d go along with a lot of this, particularly the bit about him not being as consistent a performer as Luka, we have to bear in mind that this award was voted by his fellow players.

Two things to consider, given the timing. Imagine you’re a squad player at Wolves in January. You’ve just finished training, it’s bloody freezing and you want to get home. Someone hands you a piece of paper and asks you for your opinion on which of your fellow professionals you’ve been most impressed with, and you’re not allowed to vote for anyone at your club. Bearing in mind that neither you nor any of your pals have a chance of winning it, who do you vote for? You’ve got to vote for someone. Would you:

a) Check in with @optajoe and study all performance related statistics, cross-referencing with data from previous years winners and use your own judgement to assess the various demands related to the players individual position on the pitch, or would you…

b) Remember that Gareth Bale was really good in an important game a month back, and the papers are currently talking about him being the subject of a £50m transfer bid from some European teams with sexy names, then just say ‘that’ll do’, because it means you can get out of training a bit earlier and indulge your twin interests of shopping and playstations.

I’d say the Football Writers award might hold a little more gravitas.

In other news, Jack Wilshere managed to keep his tongue in his mouth long enough to pick up his own young player of the year award which, grudgingly; you’d be hard pressed to argue he’s not deserved. If only there was one for being an ‘orrible little ‘erbert as well. That trophy cabinet of his needs boosting from somewhere.

I realise this bear-baiting might not be the wisest course of action, given that we entertain the wounded goonies on Wednesday night, but come on, they’re great aren’t they? I feel bad having been thoroughly entertained by the Imaginarium of the good doctor without having bought a ticket. If the pitch-bound fare isn’t entertaining enough, we’re treated to the most wonderful encores without fail. Apparently you’ll DEFINITELY win games where you have no shots on goal, and apparently, stoppages within stoppage time don’t count as real time to be added. Oh, and tackling like a rhino on an oil slick in your own penalty area= no penalties. Ever.

Looking forward to Wednesday. I’m hoping that Sneezy gets injured again and Lehmann is selected.

I Believe In You, Gomes

My pal, @mattcg from twitter done this awesome picture of you. A link to his other Spurs drawings are up there in the top left.

Dear Heurelho Gomes

You don't know me, but I've always been a big fan of yours. I've seen every one of your games at White Hart Lane from the Upper section of the South Stand, and although your experiences with the crowd are of the collective variety, I've come to see my interaction with you as a rather personal one. I still do the 'woooohhh eeeeeh' along with your crossbar jump routine thing at the beginning of the every second half, and have even been known to join in with the 'I'd let you sh...'... well, you know the words. I wouldn't really though, that would be a bit much. But you'd certainly be welcome round for dinner, or perhaps we could take our collective brood out on their trikes and get a Costa? Anyway, I'll leave the ball in your court.

Even though life at Tottenham didn't start well for you, I always believed because I'd seen first-hand what you could do after those UEFA cup games with your old club, PSV. No matter how many people called for your head, I would tell anyone that would listen that you were a class act, and to just be patient. That game at Fulham was certainly a test of faith, but I believed. Only after Ramos had gone did the full scale of the behind-the-scenes farce come to light; made to play with busted ribs, right? That breakdown at Stoke begun to make sense, and the haters had been silenced by your dignity in the face of such a brutal onslaught by those who were meant to be getting behind you. Let's not forget of course, the MOTD couch softeners, and the headline writers who had a field day with the endless 'calamity keeper' jibes. But like a real man, you kept your head down, kept working, and with the right personnel appointed around you and an arm around the shoulder from your new gaffer, the headline-making errors went away and you became one of the leagues outstanding goalies.

I can still see now, clear as crystal in my minds eye, you leaping from nowhere to claw that van persie header away in the dieing stages of our game against that lot, around this time last year. If it's not the best save I've ever seen live, then it's certainly the most memorable. This is the real Gomes. Not always conventional, but can do what only a handful of goalkeepers in the world are capable of. 20 Paul Robinsons wouldn't have got close to that header.

Growing up in Brazil, you might not have ever seen it, but in England, every Christmas there's a film called 'Santa Claus: The Movie' that routinely has a slot on one of the various channels, and is considered mandatory viewing in my house. Your current plight has got me thinking about the film during this unseasonable period, as the resemblances in your respective career arc's are quite striking.

Santa himself was faced with a daunting task after being selected as the next custodian at the North (London) Pole. Overwhelmed at first by the size of the task, the expectation placed upon him by so many elves, and a lack of belief from the wider public, Santa set about his task, produced some really top-notch stuff, and with the help of a loveable street urchin named Joe, eventually won back the love of the public. For the purposes of the rest of the story, Heurelho, I'd like you to think of me assuming the role of Joe, the street urchin, spreading the good word of your work.

But things started to go wrong again. The quality began to dip and suddenly the public weren't being given brilliantly crafted merchandise any longer, but hastily assembled rubbish that fell apart at the slightest sign of strain. Word had got around that Santa was turning out moody gear, and people were even more disillusioned than before. Where as before, you'd expect a solid toy from Santa 99 times out of 100, it was now more like 9 times out of 10. While everyone knew that a faultless production line was as rare as a gooner you can have a sensible football discussion with (i.e., non-existant), 90% reliability really isn't enough for someone in such a forensic business as his. But little Joe still believed, only this time he started taking actual beatings from his fellow urchins for the conviction of his beliefs! This bit doesn't mirror the movie EXACTLY, you understand. I bruise like over ripe fruit, but would certainly shake my head in a VERY stern fashion if I heard anyone besmirching your good name. Just so you know.

You'll be pleased to know, Heurelho, that the movie ends happily with everyone's faith being restored in Santa, and little Joe going to live with him in the North Pole (we'll discuss this bit further when we meet up), but not before Santa performs the 'super-duper looper'. I'm not quite sure what the point of this was, but it basically involves Santa getting all of the reindeer to do a massive loop-the-loop in the sky, something which they've been unable to do throughout the whole movie. I'm not suggesting that you should take responsibility for trying to catch Dudley Moore from an exploding sleigh (just remembered the point of it. Seriously, great flick), but if you could see your way to producing the goalkeeping equivalent in the coming weeks, I just know everyone will love you again, as I always have.

Gone are the days of me believing in Santa, but I believe in you, Heurelho Gomes

Lots of love

Rio

P.S. Whatever happens, please don't let Paul Robinson come back. I know he loves Tottenham, but so does my 5 year old nephew... and he's a f**kin sh*t keeper as well. He got beaten from 2 yards by his dog the other day. Seriously, it was embarrassing.

10 Reasons Why We’ll Beat Real Madrid

Two camps for tonight. The one where I’m firmly entrenched is preaching that we’ve not got a prayer of getting 5 goals without conceding against a team that handed us a thorough tonking last time out. We could have 20 men out there and I still can’t see us scoring enough to progress. The other camp, where a work colleague of mine is currently based, is UTTERLY CONVINCED we are going to pull off the biggest result of all time and progress. He will be genuinely gutted when this doesn’t happen.

But enough of all the negativity; you’re here for fun, sunshine and rainbows, and where would we as supporters of the most glory glory of all the glory glory clubs be without a bit of blind optimism, and faith in the impossible. So here’s why we’re going to do it.

1) Central defender Pepe is suspended after picking up a yellow card in the home game. This will spread untold confusion among Real Madrid’s entire back line and they will almost certainly ship lots of goals.

2) Tactically, they are in limbo. They won’t want to sit deep and invite us onto them with Bale and Lennon on each side, but will be nervous about heading forward, lest they get exposed by said pace merchants. The level of tactical confusion will send them into meltdown and cause them to concede a couple before the break. They will then become even more confused and they will almost certainly ship lots of goals in the second half as well.

3) Di Maria, Albiol, Carvalho, Ramos and Ronaldo are all carrying yellow cards and in danger of missing the semi-final 1^st leg against their fierce rivals, Barcelona. In a game they feel they’ve already won, none of them will want to pick up a card and endanger their chances of being part of this Euro super-clash. As a result, they will hesitate to make tackles and do things they normally would as part of their game, which will send this contingent, and by association every one of their team mates, into a whirlwind of confusion and they will almost certainly ship lots of goals.

4) White Hart Lane will be rocking, and I mean ROCKING. The Spanish powder puffs, unaccustomed to the claustrophobic surroundings of our famous old home and not wanting to get their shirts dirty, will crumble like breadsticks before the mighty roar of the crowd. They will melt like lollies in the London sunshine and will almost certainly ship lots of goals.

They are true professionals lead by an experienced European campaigner. There is no chance any melting or shipping on a grand scale will occur

5) Crouch suspended. As much as I love Peter, and as hard as he is to deal with in Europe, our change of tactics will have their heads SPINNING. ‘What? They’re playing it down the side in wave after wave of intent-filled attacking and not just looking for the big man with others backing him up?’, ‘passing into the feet of the forward, what in the name of all that’s good and holy are they playing at?’, will be the cries of the bamboozled Real Madrid players. They will not be able to handle this, go into meltdown and almost certainly ship lots of goals.

6) The dual-fuellers. Bal-non, the mythical two-headed demon hell beast will be unleashed and told to attack, attack, attack. No defensive duties you, freakish attacking phenomenon, over-the-top and don’t look back. In the first leg, Ramos and Marcelo were given the easiest of rides, but it’ll be an entirely different prospect for them tonight. They will, of course, suffer meltdown in the face of such relentless speed and trickery and ship lots of goals.

7) Tommy’s back! With him spraying pass after pass out wide and through the middle for Rafa, Mods and Pav (probably), there will be no need for a DM. Tommy can do it all. ‘Who is this giant of a man; the body of a heavyweight with a touch softer than an overcooked potatas bravas?’ they will all cry. The whirlwind of confusion will lead to another meltdown and yet more goals being shipped.

8) Kaboul will play. Whether it be at centre back for the struggling Gallas, or at RB to provide a greater attacking threat than Charlie, his Royal YouTubeness will play. Lennon AND the Raging Kaboul storming up the right, Younes in the box for set-pieces. Melting and shipping all over the place.

9) There has been plenty of spilling and not enough thrilling in this tie and we’re due some thrills. Our Champions League campaign, before we found all that boring discipline against AC Milan, was all about giving it a good go and playing without fear, which our performance at the Bernebau reeked of. Even if it’s only for a small 5 minute window, our chaps will have us crowing and thinking maybe, just maybe, the impossible dream is alive.

10) Erm, we’ll be playing in white and they won’t. ‘What sort of Hitchcockian, double-bluff, red herring, pseudo nightmare have we found ourselves embroiled in?’, they will all shout; confusion and panic spreading like wildfire through their unfamiliarly coloured ranks. The outcome is inevitable.

Tottenham 6 RM 1. Because you know we don't keep clean sheets.