Posted on Sunday, 26th August 2012 by Harry Hotspur
Straight to business then and I do hope those of you feverishly composing letters in green ink from ‘outraged consumers’ to Levy & Co. this morning are will remember to thank them for at least the first hours worth of football yesterday.
As I commented yesterday much of our play was up their with the gods. Slick and dare I say it, scintillating. The passing and movement was Barcelonaesque. West Brom couldn’t get possession. They couldn’t get more than two passes together. They couldn’t catch us.
Who could have known that the removal of van Der Vaart would caused the whole Jenga Tower to go over? The issue was, as ever that the Dutchman was pooped. Done in. If anyone can highlight an instance where he’s played a full 90 minutes at anything approaching that tempo speak now or forever hold thy …well you know.
But the substitution of van Der Vaart was the cataclysmic. The change saw the arrival of Adebayor who is I see is accused of being unfit, but I suggest that the real issue is that with vDV gone a vital cog in the mechanism to serve him wasn’t there anymore.
Sandro was next to depart and too was knackered. He was far more impressive than he was last week but he was beginning to pant.
The problem is replacing Modric. We haven’t. Van Der Vaart was only masking the problem and when he went it was exposed for all to see. As per the Newcastle game, Jake Livermore is a player that doesn’t really do much wrong, but he neither does he do much of genuine note.
The addition of Gylfi was good, but if I look at my chalkboard from yesterday I would argue we needed him on from the start. Worse yet, Azza Blud and Bale switched wings. The net result was suddenly neither contributed anything of note apart from when Baled wandered back in centrally.
If the subbing of van Der Vaart was serious flesh wound then Defoe’s disallowed goal was a dirty great fistful of rock salt rubbed into the thick of it. The Tottenham of old emerged from the psyche. And so we brought on J****. Jesus wept.
In an instant all the delegates for Invisible Man Convention were seated and ready for the presentation. Villas-Boas, please tell us all that you don’t really have any belief in this pilchard. He was booed I hear by some of our lot. Presumably this was our fans and not his team mates. Either way it’s seriously not on at games. That’s what the Internet is for. Grow a brain.
We removed Van Der Vaart, paired Livermore with Jenas and the net result was a pair of giant Monty Python hands came out of the sky and laid onto the centre of the park the world’s largest Welcome Matt.
West Brom suddenly went from having little possession to the lion’s share. Thankfully this was West Brom and the worst they did was hurl the blunt yet nevertheless determined instrument that was Lakaku at us. I lie, the worst they did was score.
So where are we? Well, yet again we need to replace Modric. Because the answer is not on currently on the books and there isn’t a way of rearranging what furniture we have left to disguise the fact we’ve been burgled.
The boss is right. This is the beginning of a very exciting new era, but whilst we need more than a limited Defoe and a questionably fit Adebayor, what we really need is a Modric.
Made a pair of great saves. Saved our bacon. Hates leaving his line. Hates it.
Steamin’ and screamin’. A credit to the firm.
He really has come on leaps and bounds.
The lovable lunatic.
Looking every inch the part.
Should have started.
Fizzed in then fizzled out.
You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.
A player of an immensely limited dimension.
Fitness isn’t the issue. Supply is.
He undoubtedly has the tactical nous, he simply doesn’t have the personnel.