Narrative
I said the season was over a blog or two back. I'm not the only one that thinks it after watching our players ghost around the White Hart Lane turf like phantoms whilst Tim Sherwood's Aston Villa only had to be just above competent to be a menace.
You'll have noticed a general lack of activity on here recently. Illness was the main reason for my absence but Spurs have left me feeling equally as sick, deep in the gut. They can't be bothered, so neither can I. I still sat through the entire game just so I could have something to write about the next day. Thing is, there's practically nothing ground breaking to say.
I can't take this game or performance as a benchmark to critically analyse Pochettino. I could take a select set of games to do that but then someone else could cherry pick the good results and cite them as more than enough evidence that something good will happen eventually. Hence why the benchmarking is set for the 2016 season.
The lack of spirited effort, punch speedy football was a collective cluster of crap that is the direct result of losing the cup final and seeing all momentum vanquished. Half of our squad shouldn't be at the club. Or maybe they should as they are pretty much poster boys for our transfer policy.
Yes, it's painfully mundane to see us plod towards the final handful of fixtures having given up all hope of entertaining the supporters. Even though I deluded myself (can I now say tongue in cheek?) about how the points were up for grabs for a Champions League push I also (can I say with serious endeavour?) later admit that we're hardly deserving of 4th spot.
I'd like us to resemble a team, carefully constructed to work both physically and mentally. A task beyond our capabilities currently. Our make-shift defence perfectly illustrates the lack of depth. Fazio actually started a game. He came in from the wilderness and played like a wounded deer dazed by wolves ready to pounce for the kill. You can only shrug and laugh about it (tears are optional).
Eriksen displayed super powers. Sadly they consisted of invisibility. He also had the touch of Superman. That's Superman trapped in a room made of Kryptonite. The football was generally radioactive by almost all of our lot. Harry Kane stood as a reminder than even your best can have days where influence escapes him. Spurs are quite superb at these type of average displays drenched in mediocrity where there's patches of tolerable football that makes you hope for something more, knowing full well the ominous conclusion will be a defeat. No zest, urgency and no astute and composed passing. When someone attempted (with more heart than skill) to get forward and try to work an opening, it ended with untidiness.
Sherwood had his team playing with structure and purpose. They are equally as average but they have something to play for (avoidance of relegation). Seems pride is no longer a worth while virtue for us to embrace.
Once more let's repeat the all encompassing truth that you'll win nothing with a team that remains a pale shadow of what it could have been. Don't downplay or understate it: The job Poch and the club have to reconstruct the mess left in the last build isn't going to be easy. More so as we still employ the odd cowboy.
Supernova Tim must be loving the narrative with this result. His God complex will have birthed a whole new universe whilst we get sucked into a black hole. Whilst he seeks to galvanise his players, Poch is just muddling through, possibly making decisions on the future of a fair few of them. Either that or he's worked out the Argentine translation for poison chalice.
If a team isn't believable then I'm hardly going to believe in them. If this was a benchmark for the remaining games then we might as well join the players on the sunbeds.
-
Original draft (before cut down to 500 words) from the Metro as I can't be writing about this horrific game twice. Fairly certain you'll find a lot more to talk about amongst yourselves.
I promise my creative juice will return soon. I have to fall back in love with writing as well as football. No click bait here, so I refuse to post for the sake of it. Can't even muster up any satire. There is no source material worthy of it. I can't keep writing about Harry Kane and pointing him out as the single positive from another wasted season. I've spent most of the last 18 months moaning about this. It's not healthy for me and it's not interesting for you.
Maybe a cameo on The Fighting Cock pod this Monday evening will help me find my way out of this bottomless pit of misery. When I look back at this season I'm going to try to remember the dismantlement of Chelsea and Arsenal rather than a 1-0 home defeat to Villa.
Peace, love and Tottenham.
