2-1, innit...

In my match preview I stated the following about the north London derby:

It should be nothing more or less than the most important 90 minutes of any season. Blood, thunder, drive and spirit. And tenfold passion. How else can you possibly match the noise in the ground? If that can't elevate you then nothing can. And yes, bite me, I'm a football romantic, but to me these games should be defined by guile and tenacity of the players out on the pitch. And not because XXX is out injured watching from the sidelines.

To dare is to f*cking do, so just f*cking get on with it and do it.

The Gods, they finally smile down upon us. Where do I even start?

Immense night, immense result. We dug deep, deeper than we've ever dug before. I'm talking centre to the earth deep.

Sorry, this blog article is not going to have much of a structure as I'm just throwing various bits at it as and when I remember to do so. It's the emotion. I'm choking up over here. That and the fact that today will no doubt play out like a really really good (lol) M. Night Shyamalan movie where all Arsenal fans have suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth. No shocking twist at the end of this one. Bless 'em. The gutless geebags.

Talking of the geebags, I don't like to gloat. Honestly. It's something they do, and they do it without class or humour. But honestly, open forum lads. Your season, ended. At the Lane. What next then? I suggest you start taking the Carling Cup seriously. Honestly, it's a fun day out. With the pyrotechnics and flags and stuff. Honestly, 5 years without a club DVD? That can't be good. If this is Spurs punching above their weight, then don't mind me whilst I dance like Robbie Keane.

Was that a gloat? I guess it was. Eleven years ya know. I'm a bit rusty.

Gomes was magical. Dawson awesome. Bale and BAE storming down the flank. Sure, there were moments when you might have sighed at another misplaced pass or the lack of ball retention allowing them more time to neatly pass the leather around. But for all of Arsenal's pretty possession, they hardly did much to genuinely worry us in the final third. Well, until the final 15 minutes or so when I was too busy chewing on my hand to dare look up at the action. Although when I did, I caught glimpses of a flying octopus sprouting wings as it flew through the air at lightning speed to guide the ball away from the goal. This was no CGI effect. And I would gladly allow said octopus to sleep with my wife. If I was married. But he can have a go at my bird if he so wishes. As long as I can watch.

Even Kaboul gave effort beyond his means, even if he's lacking in so many other ways. And I'm not referring to the lack of depth in his eyebrows. But there is no criticism to be found for any of our players, not in these euphoric post-match hours.

Everyone gave it some. For the colours. There was heart and there was desire. Not so much composure at times, but plenty of it when it mattered most. And the second goal, just inside the start of the second half was like a point blank shot in the back of the head. Bale, the sneak, sneaking and slotting it for 2-0. Definitive moment that. And richly richly deserved that.

How many times have we buckled in the past against these jammy fuckers? Too many to mention. We might have struggled to beat them over the years, but some of the score-draws tell a different story. And in this case, it was simply not going to happen. Tired legs? I saw no tired legs.

Like some form of mystical sponge we soaked up the pressure and at times looked more likely to score on the fast break, in comparison to their 20 pass move that ended up with a goal-kick.

Shout out to Eidur Gudjohnsen. When he came on he was superb in possession. Should have made it three. But I forgive you Eidur. I forgive you.

King, Ledley. A man who doesn't train. Probably nowt wrong with his knee either. He's probably not even human. I'd hazard a guess and say 'bionic' in creation. The reason he only plays one game every three months is because we're busy recharging him in-between. Have to do it slowly otherwise we'll bring down the entire national grid.

Back onto Daws. Strength of character. Must have been devastating, Sunday. And yet what a performance. Commanding stuff.

Have I mentioned Bale? I have? Can I mention him again? What. A. Player. Confidence. If you could bottle the stuff it would sell for millions. In the meantime, if you get close enough, you'll smell it in his lush black hair.

Gomes and those saves. Billy the Fishesque.

Oh Danny boy, Danny boy...what a strike. Majestic. Beautiful. BELTER. A left-foot gem of a thumping yet graceful volley. Worthy of it's own DVD. Talking of which, I've checked the official website and I see no new release. Slackers.

LOL at people suggesting it was a goal-keeping error. Okay, so Alumnia is shite and he sort of dived under the ball when attempting to save it, but crickey, did anyone expect a player to strike the ball ON the volley from 30 yards out after the keeper punched it out? Do one playa-haters.

And let's not forget Harry. O knee-jerkers, knee-jerkers! Wherefore art thou knee-jerkers? Starts Pav and Defoe. Plays Danny Rose (okay, so this might have been textbook luck that no doubt Harry will play on, but it still took guts). Organised and focused, we defended like warriors. Granted, we watched a lot of the ball at their feet, but the pressing worked. Second half, two subs made. Tactical master-stroke. Not just the subs but the way we countered Arsenal. We didn't just shut shop on them. Hit them on the counter. Soak the pressure and hit 'em. I'd like to refer you back to the second goal. Even the first goal came about after sustained pressure from them.

Have we played better football, dominated possession - against them - and come away with a point or nothing? Many times. Which is why this is so so sweet.

Also, Mark Cluttenberg. We slate refs when they botch things up and always make sure we mention it. So, it's only fair I point out that I hardly noticed him in the NLD. He had mad flows. Considering the intensity of the game, credit. Just a little. Don't want him overdosing. And if we want to be critical, he should have waved his yellow card at some of the Arsenal players for the odd theatrical dive and elbow. Okay, so he's shit, but he's no Howard Webb.

Judas? He actually played well. Hope he enjoys the memory.

Somewhere in the midst of all this, the scum got a goal back. THEO (did he just guarantee his England place with that assist? Did he? Did he?) crossing in for...it doesn't really matter does it? They got dicked.

I'm off to Swansea Thursday morning. Work thing. And drink-up. So will be back on-line Friday evening, unless I sneak in a cheeky blog post at some point tomorrow. Will also announce the winner of the 'Spurs Cult Heros' book. More to follow for sure.

Enjoy your day.

COYS.