The Division
I wrote something for ‘Never Mind the Bollocks’ over at The Fighting Cock. Questions posed by Sheffield United fans that publish a fanzine (Cutting Edge Blades). All (obviously) related to the post-match of another damp performance (for us, not them). I’ve taken the answers I gave them and I’ve done what Spooky (third-person klaxon) does best. Added extra paragraphs to bolster the word count to give it that special DML vibrancy. I need a bit of that in my footballing life at the moment. Vibrancy.
So was that it fair result? A score draw at home to a newly promoted side? You’ll probably have scratched your head wondering which side came up from the Championship, watching their organisation up against our…well, inept application. We have a habit of saying all the right things in preparation for games and then delivering nonsensical actions.
In the build up, the banter on social media was whether Mauricio Pochettino was going to make half a dozen changes to the side that won with relative comfort in the Champions League. That side was perhaps teasing a little clue towards what Spurs might line-up as in the future. We played well, European football appears to be an escapism (ignoring the 2-7, if that’s conceivable possible). The football flowed. Players looked sharp and the inter-changing was neat and tidy. Spurs ruthless when presented with opportunities to punish. Then fast-forward to Saturday and we get the antithesis injected into our veins as we go from one bad trip to another, slumped in our chairs in the most posh crack house in N17.
United should have won. It's amazing, football, when you look back at how much of a fumbling paradox it can be. Spurs nicked a point because of the calamitous implementation of technology, which somehow managed to out-calamity (is that a word? It is now) Tottenham's own self-fulfilling prophecy of anti-progressive football.
It's crazy that I'm saying this, but not so crazy considering our form domestically in the past ten months, but this was a good point for us considering their form and our state of flat flux. They were up for it. They had no intentions of parking the bus. They are giving life in the Prem a right go. And although they might find next season an altogether different experience, some of us are contemplating the potential of not playing Sheffield United next year, and not because they might get relegated.
OOH, SERIOUS RELEGATION FEARS M8
Moderate relegation fears.
The visitors gave their travelling fans everything I wanted to see from our own ineffective bunch of non-events. It was everything that Spurs have given us before the slow brooding slump reared its ugly head and regurgitated microwaved pizza from the fridge, peppered with fishy Villas-Boas toppings. Surely there’s hope in there somewhere? Surely Poch and the core unit of our key players have something left to give, even if it’s just a pathway to a new era.
United have a game plan. It’s evident to see. It’s not necessarily top tier. But it’s good enough to get into scrapes and come out with less bruises. They’re a team in every sense of the word, whereas Spurs have lost/ditched/ignored/given up their style and identity and have relapsed back to the mess Mauricio Pochettino inherited when he first arrived at White Hart Lane. More paradoxical irony here.
United were composed, determined and drilled. Every man with a mission, every man owning his responsibility. We had no momentum or sense of urgency. No synergy. Nothing. It's nigh incredible how much we've switched off and the men from Sheffield showcased everything the boys from the long gone Lane lack.
I’ve said it many times now, that it’s going to take time to get out of this headspace - on and off the pitch. And that this season is practically a write-off. But I also said ‘give it 10 games’ back at the start of the season and sadly nothing has changed since then. At least in terms of what we’re privy too. We have not a clue what is going on behind closed doors. Other than the output we’re suffering on the pitch. Poch and his Brave New World is heading back to 1984 and not the one with Tony Parks.
Plug. Listen to this podcast episode where I discuss the extensional crisis in more depth.
I’ve got to go back to United and how they compared to us on the day. I mentioned synergy above. When a team is a unit, when everyone is working with each other and everyone is fighting for their teammates - it all comes together with tantric tenacity. It's spirited and arguably a bit sexy. I'm not talking about the 23-pass move that led to the equalising goal. Spurs assisted that with their frozen attempt at pressing.
We've literally gone from Tarantino to Disney with our football. What I'm actually referring to when citing spirited/sexy is the brotherhood, the togetherness. The swagger and belief. Former essential ingredients of the Pochettino Philosophy. Sheffield Utd have got it. Confidence is a thing of real beauty. Ours is a distant memory. One we keep saying will return, any day now. We keep saying it. We see little evidence of it. But then it’s the same group of players that we’re hoping to see give us thart rebirth. The same group that need to transcend across to a new dimension of play. Not sure how that’s done without replacing most of them.
We’re back to the conundrum of whether we stick or twist. Whether twisting will make a difference. Only Poch and Levy know this. Because if Poch has ‘gone’ in his own head then signing more players won’t really fix anything. Sometimes things end and we all have to move on. Can you tell that I’m still lost in working this out in my own abused brain? Tottenham have to either unequivocally back him and Poch has to back Spurs with the same bullet-proof belief. Otherwise we’re killing ourselves, in the metaphorical sense. If we need to rebuild, then prove it by signing players the gaffer wants and selling/letting go of the ones that have lost the desire to play for the shirt.
If this is part of the relationship that is going to be painful but because both sides want it to work they struggle through and get to where they want to be again, where it was good…then I’m okay with it. But I need a sign that this is the case. Otherwise, break up, go your separate ways. I’ll have to deal with the one-night stand with some Portuguese hussy until we settle down again and find true love. I just don’t want the casual stuff. You know me by now, I’m a romantic.
As much as I keep repeating the reality that this season is a write-off and a bridge to better things next year, the lack of patience and the lack of action on the field means that football will football and a change provides everyone with something new to focus on. And inevitably something new to moan about.
Our performance. It was Dier. Dire. Lacklustre, without discipline and there was no spark or edge. I mean, they did try. There was effort. But it was so low-key that I'm beginning to question (again) whether the players want it. Whether they want to be part of this reboot. Or whether they've given up on it, given up on Poch. Or whether he's given up himself. Going through the motions is a very dangerous and selfish cleansing. They (the gaffer and players) can all leave. We (the supporters) can't. Whatever is left is something we'll have to deal with.
No idea why Dele was subbed off. Things like this don’t do me any favours when defending Poch.
No idea how Serge keeps getting selected. Somewhere in there, he has the capabilities to be accomplished. But the wiring is all wrong. Moussa Sissoko was erratic, playing like the original Sissoko and not the reinvented version. But then everyone appears to have taken a step back.
Let’s be honest, it was decent for us to get (hold onto) a point. We could have won had we perhaps stepped up a gear earlier in the game - but this is the long-standing problem. We're incapable of stepping up. I'm a happy clapper. I belong to Spurs regardless of the result. But this is us sitting in a dark corner of the room, foaming at the mouth, rocking backwards and forwards. Someone has to slap us back to reality.
Kane still looks like he’s recovering from illness. If you’re wearing a tin foil hat, Kane wants out / has lost his edge / won a Royal Rumble fight at Hotspur Way where he was the last man standing in a massive brawl with his team mates that might not be his mates.
N’dombele getting injured sums up our stop-start attempts and creating new momentum with our new signings. That side that played away to Red Star, the line-up, it will take more shape once Ryan Sessegnon enters the fray and Gio Lo Celso fine-tunes himself to the pace of the Premier League. What we do with our centre-backs (new and old) and the fact we need to sign three or four new full-backs is altogether another headache that the transfer windows will no doubt laugh at when the time comes for us to spend money again. The rumours have kick-stated with Spurs bidding for players and Poch requesting targets.
The sadness (and its infinity) can have me, you, anyone criticising any of our players with varying degrees of seethe. It’s that bad at the moment, that nobody is looking great. Perhaps aside from one or two, again depending on your eye sight and understanding. It’s hard to run into battle if the rest of your platoon is hiding in the breaches.
And as for VAR?
Shambles. Yes, it can provide moments of absolute drama (City away in the Champs League last season) but the bods back in the Big Brother house are dithering to the point of absurdity. I don't even understand it anymore, how it works or how it's meant to work. We've got to the point where every VAR decision looks like the Zapruder film being dissected by The Lone Gun Men attempting to figure out the trajectory of the magic bullet.
This isn't football. Goal-line technology is decisive. This thing about pixelating a paused replay of a players fingernail being possibly, probably, maybe offside is pure parody. Mistakes is what truly made football dramatic. Yes, we should have tech assist us - but it can't be to the detriment of the flow of the game. The officiating has to, at its core, remain with the officials on the pitch. VAR has to be far less intrusive than it is. Not sure, right now, it can be.
Good luck to the Blades for the remainder of the season. Although best I keep some of that luck for our lot that will have me reaching for a blade of my own soon enough.
I am of course joking. Though I'm considering getting a tattoo on my back.
Die Poch, Die
Grammatical missteps aside, it's German, for The Poch, The.
COYS
I think one more poor result and it’s pitchfork time.
