The Morning After The Night Before - What Went Wrong For Spurs?
The morning after the night before is often a sobering occasion. Why am I chained to a lamppost? Why the f*ck aren’t we in the League Cup Final? That kind of thing.
For the long suffering fans of Tottenham Hotspur, last night was just another chapter in a miserable catalogue of underachievement and disappointment. 20 minutes of scintillating, breathtaking, poetic football thoroughly spoilt by 190 minutes of dogged defending, dodgy tactics and the inability to double-check a team sheet. Only Spurs.
The kneejerk reaction of a minority has already started to call for the head of Martin Jol, something that is as unlikely as it is ridiculous, but the thought that the great man himself might be scratching his head this morning over another heart wrenching derby defeat is worrying to say the least.
This tie should have been out of sight by the end of the 1st leg, perhaps even the 1st half of that game. The so called ‘youth team’ of Arsenal possess a great deal of talent yet their limited experience should have been punished in front of a White Hart Lane crowd baying for blood after Julio Baptista scored the first of his unorthodox hattrick last Wednesday. They should have been buried by a side keen to show that they would not tolerate facing a second XI in a domestic cup semi final.
Instead, we put the brakes on, a tactical switch that would prove all the more costly considering our two attacking focal points, Lennon and Berbatov, would play no further part in the 2nd leg. It should be abundantly clear that, when fielding an inexperienced side that had already proved themselves in reaching a semi final, Wenger’s brief would be that they had nothing to lose. “Go get those goals back”.
The advantage was lost pitifully and very rarely has a draw tasted so authentically like the bitterest of defeats. Baptista got his 2nd and 3rd goals of the evening, Spurs groaned and Arsenal sang. And when that happens, it really must be going their way.
Yesterday began even better than most ‘big game’ days. ‘Sheringham heading back to Spurs’ read the tabloids, along with 3 or 4 promising names that had been mooted for several weeks. Had we known at the time that none would have signed by the stroke of midnight, it might have been translated as an inadvertent message from the cruel red top hacks that it would have been better off staying in bed.
No Lennon, no pace. No Berba, no physical presence upfront. No attacking changes until a goal down, no ambition. Even passion, surely inherent during a cup semi against your local rivals was lacking from so many of the players. Are Jermain Defoe and Jermaine Jenas REALLY as upset as the fans this morning? I hate to say that I don’t think they are.
What Tottenham need is a battler, an Edgar Davids minus a few thousand miles. Nolan, Barton, even Savage, all wear their heart on their sleeve, run for ninety minutes and, perhaps most importantly, aren’t shirt swapping and hugging their local rivals after losing a cup semi final. And that’s why they are so adored by their fans and so despised by the opposition: they want to win.
All is not lost for THFC and this defeat will be nothing more than a minor blip should our cup form continue and the final victory of the season takes place at Wembley or Hampden Park. But if the current incumbents of that famous white shirt aren’t motivated for a game like Wednesday then it could all be a little too familiar when the silverware is handed out in May.
If you have some spare time, why not put it to good use?
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