How thoroughly apt that the goal of the season should have been scored by a player sharing his name with a Woody Allen character? Allen must be a Spurs fan, right? He’s Jewish (check) angst-ridden (check) and riddled with self doubt (check). Fits the Tottenham supporter profile perfectly. For all we know he may even be related to Clive and Les.
So, once more the lads put us through the wringer, and if it wasn’t for Gomes that two goal cushion could have been wiped out and perhaps even bettered. How many of you were angst ridden and riddled with self doubt in the final twenty minutes of the game? We are all Woody Allens when it comes to watching our team.
To paraphrase a quote from said movie director:
‘To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering, one must not love. But then, one suffers from not loving.’
How true fellow Tottenham sufferers, how true….
Still all’s well that ends well, and as I commented on an Arsenal blog just yesterday:
Herbert Chapman…John Radford…Tony Adams…Thierry Henry…Liam Brady…Bertie Mee…Frank McLintock…Nick Hornby…Spike Lee…your boys took one hell of a beating last night!
Juvenile I agree and I doubt whether Spike pores over the content of ‘Arsenal Mania’ on a daily basis, but trust me, it’s a work of art compared to some of the more ‘colourful’ comments left by fellow Spurs.
Those of you that read my end of season point’s prediction piece the other week may recall, a certain gentle lampooning, of the Arses preoccupation with foreplay. For those that missed it, here’s what I wrote about the (then) forthcoming encounter:
‘Time after time our defence is ripped to shreds by Arsenal’s intricate interplay. Fortunately in their quest to create le perfect goal (minimum 25 touches in the penalty area, must include at least three back heels and two dummies etc…)’.
Okay, they certainly didn’t rip our defence to shreds but they do appear to have a deep-rooted phobia about scoring goals outside the six yard box. I truly feel sorry for Arsenal supporters; every week they are subjected to the football equivalent of tantric sex – lots of intense build up but little in the way of penetration. If Woody is a Spurs fan, then Sting just has to be a Gooner.
Not so Danny Rose, the merest whiff of a strike and he was on to it, sending the ball careering back whence it came with rapier-like precision. Speaking on Sky Sports News, Alan Mullery said the lad will never score a goal like that again. True, but then again, how many players will ever score a goal that good? Personally, if he never kicks a ball for us again, his place is secured in the Spurs pantheon.
Having turned over one enemy, we must now focus our attention on those vulgarians from West London. Chelski will be a different proposition to a depleted Arsenal side. There’s one thing facing a five man midfield featuring lightweights like Rosicky and Nasri, but the likes of Lampard, Ballack and Kalou will offer a far sterner examination for an injury ravaged side missing the suspended Palacios.
I would be a good deal happier if Ledley was available to play, but those crocked knees just aren’t up to two tough games in the space of four days. Bassong is an adequate replacement, but lacks King’s positional awareness and big game experience. Dawson continues to be a rock at the heart of defence and if he doesn’t go to South Africa it will be the biggest case of injustice since Nelson Mandela was banged up on Robben Island.
On the evidence of the past two games, Defoe doesn’t look fit. The way Sol Campbell eased him off the ball on Wednesday when put through on goal was to be honest, a little bit embarrassing. Since the turn of the year, Defoe has scored just four league goals; hardly the kind of return Harry or Capello would have wanted or expected from a potential partner for Rooney. Thankfully the goals have been spread around our team, but the pre-Christmas, defence splitting runs of JD’s just aren’t happening anymore.
There’s breaking news that Aaron Lennon will be on the bench tomorrow; fantastic if true and a real fillip going into the most important run of games in donkeys years. A fresh Lennon on the right and rejuvenated Bale down the left; bring on the Chavs and Manure!