3

Well that was pretty epic. A short drive to the station for 9:45am. Not too early. Time enough to have a relaxed breakfast before leaving. A few beers each on the train (non-alcoholic ones for me) along with snacks I’d bought from FRONT the day before (having met and chatted to Geoff Hurst in there a further day before).

We made our predictions. Got both the starting line up and nine subs spot on. For the result the caveat was that we’d score early. With that in mind Len plumped for 3-0 and I said 4-0, mostly for poetic purposes as that was the scoreline at my first ever match back in 1990, which was also Spurs home to Sheffield United. A Paul Walsh hattrick and one from Nayim that day (whilst my two heroes managed 45 minutes between them: A start for Gazza before coming off with an injury at half time, and Lineker an unused substitute). A quick look on a friend’s blog saw he had predicted 5-0. I soon hedged my prediction adding 4-2 to the mix. -Because we’d met Sir Geoff earlier in the week, so that would be just as poetic.

We arrived in the ground, got some drinks and food. Oh my the food has gone downhill. It was superb in the first season of the new stadium. Not so now. Just tasted like cardboard. Without prompt a guy near us, eating something different, offered up the same evaluation. We then took to our seats, nice and early.

Five minutes before kick off the trumpeter, who was just over from us, was put on the big screen and he led the crowd to ‘Oh when the Spurs go marching in’. It was the first of a few epic moments in the day. Spine tingling stuff.

Match reports are everywhere so I won’t go much in to the technical details of the match itself other than to say we were pretty dominant all the way through and that they were time wasting from the very start. The keeper being the worst, as is often the case. He actually saved himself from the obligatory yellow card for time wasting by instead gteting one for handling outside the area. All keepers whose side look to play the smash and grab tactic should do that as it allows them to time waste for the rest of the match without worry because of course once one yellow card is given the referees are too scared to give a second one for such an offence.

The caveat from our predictions didn’t come true. We failed to get the ball over the line despite wave after wave of attack and attempt on goal. And, as is so often the case when that happens, they scored a freak goal completely against the run of play. It looked for all the world like it was going to be one of those days. We’d still been entertained. Bissouma, Maddison, Deki and Udogie all superb and at times truly breathtaking.

As the clock got closer and closer to 90 minutes the memory in my head kept growing stronger about Cheltenham’s two goals in injury time away at Rushden and Diamonds in 1999. I had full belief we’d still win however late an equaliser might come. Looking around I’m not sure much of the South Stand shared that belief.

Brennan Johnson scored on his debut and the crowd went in to raptures. I saw the flag go up though and immediately knew it wasn’t going to count. I looked around and saw the joy as most of the crowd continued to celebrate. “It’s ok”, I thought, “We’re still going to do it”.

Towards the end of the first half I’d said to Len, “Richy will come on and score later”. Our seemingly divisive Brazilian had been in the headlines this week talking about his own mental health problems. I can see why some oppoistion fans don’t like him. They see how he can be on the pitch and make an opinion without knowing the guy. If they knew some of the things he does and stands for off the pitch I’m sure he’d be a lot more loved and a lot less divisive. Us Spurs fans get exposed to more content naturally, as Evertonians had previously, and we’d been singing his song earlier in the game before he had come on to show him our support.

At 90 minutes the board went up. 12 extra minutes. Suddenly it wasn’t just me who believed. That seemed to lift the whole of the crowd, all now urging the boys on. The fact that it was our Brazilian boy who headed the equaliser from a perfect Ivan Perisic cross was just deserts both for Richy and all those who backed him. No hint of any foul or offside on this one so the crowd were jubilant once more and this time sure it would stand. A point at home to Sheffield United, the way we had played, was not enough though! I knew we could win. Still five more minutes to go (plus a few for further time wasting in injury time).

I kept shouting, “COME ON”, as I waved my hands to cajole the players towards us (although more to encourage the fans around me to continue believing). When Deki smashed the ball in the net for the winner we went BALLISTIC. The entire South Stand was bouncing. Pure elation. At the final whistle it was like being at a beautiful foreign festival as the late afternoon sun shone down and everyone, from the youngest to the oldest, raved mentally to Freed From Desire by Gala. It was totally epic. Epic, epic, EPIC.

We had got what we deserved. Sheffield United had got what they deserved. The fact we got it in the minutes that were added on from their time wasting made it all the more sweet.

One other thought crossed my mind as the dust began to settle: That I’m so glad we are a proper football side again. Under Jose and Conte we’d be the time wasters. It was anti-football. I never want us to be a team like that again. Sheffield United were that today and I pity the fact their entire season will likely be played that way: Watching unenjoyable anti-football in the hope it’s enough to avoid relegation. There is no glory in that. I’d prefer to watch a side smashing it up the Championship than one struggling to survive in the Premier League. Play to win lads. Sometimes you might and it’ll be so much more rewarding when you do.

Same goes for Spurs. Four years of horrible football trying to play on the counter attack and trying to be ‘clever’ by time wasting, playacting, diving etc. Nah, not for me. The game is about glory. Let’s just play well and see where it takes us. I’m glad Ange gets it.

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