And then suddenly all was well in the world...
Football is funny. Weeks back, we stood in the mud. Grounded, pounded. Demoralised and panic stricken. A fair few had given up on this uncomfortable experiment with a less than special Jose Mourinho, reaching out in the hope we'd snatch one of those more fanciable hipster coaches to pump new blood into our dry veins. A new project, a new philopshy. A new something, anything... something brand new and shiny. It's the usual knee-jerk, right? We all do this at one time or another. Give up. Sometimes it's justified. Sometimes we go too early. A reboot feels like a new start (rather than perhaps a repeated mistake). So naturally, you want something to change in order to force a new era and walk slowly away from the big error left behind.
On paper, Spurs were fairly dire. On the pitch Spurs were Eric Dier. We went from an all-conquering, fluid containment and counter attacking masterclass to a passive, fearful shadow of it self. Then we collapsed inwards like a star imploding itself into a black hole. All light was gone, darkness prevailed.
Nothing we did could muster a resurgence or even a hint of a recovery. But in the depths of the darkness was a dot of hope. Light. Walk towards it Spurs; not to die but to be reborn. And we did. Slowly and surely, we did just that. The football started to subtly open up and evolve into something far more recognisable. A football team playing football. The type of football that not only gives us hope but also sticks smiles on our little faces.
See, football is as simplistic as it is funny. It's funny in that weird way and that tragic fashion too. And Tottenham exist in amongst the comedy and drama, intertwined forever. We pretend we hate it but we don't. We accept it. We aspire for moments that break the mould but deep down we know our DNA is pre-determined. Spurs are designed to absolutely rattle our consciousness on every conceivable level.
Within the simplicity is the comprise (something Mourinho will not admit to and will also take credit for) where Spurs would start to play with a little more freedom, a little more expression. With this change came confidence and with confidence we have momentum. With momentum we have hope and this generates points and points means we're back in contention again. It's like lining up domino pieces and instead of watching them hit each other as they fall, it's reversed, as they all stand back up again.
The lessons to be learnt are the same ones we routinely ignore all of the time. The relentless desire to find finality in just about everything. The badge of honour to seek resolutions in the immediacy rather than consider the future. Daniel Levy has invested more than just money in the Mourinho appointment. He's also anchored himself to ambition, be it misguided or otherwise. He respects and believes Jose can have an impact on this squad of players, perhaps before the next long term project kicks in with one of those hipster types.
What this season has proved is...well, quite a bit to be fair. The squad isn't good enough to truly compete for the title without further additions to bolster key areas and allow for a more robust rotation. Something comparable to what Manchester City have (their bench is practically as strong as their first eleven at any given moment). Spurs are stuck in that purgatory, always over achieving or under achieving and never quite just achieving.
We know we had that opportunity under Mauricio Pochettino and failed to consolidate during two transfer windows. We also know that in terms of revenue, Spurs have eclipsed them lot down the road. The wage structure and general tentative attitude in the transfer market is where we continue to lag. It's something I don't try to delve too much into on the basis of not being a financial expert. The foundations are built at Tottenham - the stadium, Hotspur Way, the branding. It's all there. Spurs will not falter to midtable mediocrity ever again. But at some point we have to do more than what we're doing otherwise we'll be like them lot down the road. A theatre of sleep paralysis rather than a theatre of upper echelon Greek tragedy. With cups. Something them lot have managed to win, but struggle to truly celebrate because of their shortcomings based on their stature. They are perpetually disappointed. That's them not being able to handle the flux between expectations and reality. They have no grasp on reality. We have to make sure we never let ours go.
But right now, right this moment - it's one game at a time and it's a joy. Having Gareth Bale return to form and to be exactly the player we wanted him to be when he resigned (on loan). He came home and because of his Madrid tenure on the bench, it took an absolute age to fix him up for the Premier League. Now look at him. His zest, his energy, his work rate, his goals. He's running off the ball as well as attacking it. This is what Tottenham is about. That argument about which player at his peak was better - Bale or Kane? Who cares now we have both of them player TOGETHER. It's majestic and wonderous.
As for Harry himself and his shining on the field relationship with Son. Salivating. I'm wiping the drool off my face all of the time. They have combined 14 times this season - a record. Kane himself has been involved with 40 goals (24G 16A) in the space of 36 games in all comps. Madness. Player of the Season stats. Not just his scoring, his assisting but his reading of the game and his vision and leadership. Spurs themselves have gone beyond 100 goals scored. As Jose enjoyed telling the media 'not bad for a defensive side'.
Results. That has flipped our mood. The performances, as a team and individuals producing the quality has elevated us back towards the belief we can salvage something out of the season (when all looked lost not that long ago). Perfect timing. The business end of the season. We have some massive games coming up in the league and there is no getting away from the reality that it will not be easy. But with a League Cup final to look ahead to and the potential for European glory...I can't do anything other than welcome back Spurs to my bosom and embrace the daft twit.
It ain't over until it's over and it aint over yet.
COYS
