A performance that threw up many more questions than it answered and throwing up wouldâ€™ve been the reaction of most Spurs fans if Cudicini hadnâ€™t produced two top class saves in the last five minutes to deny the home team a win. They still wouldâ€™ve nicked all three points if Tamas hadnâ€™t poked wide after being allowed to run from his own half virtually unchallenged in the 89th minute.
Redknapp flooded the midfield presumably in the hope of making the best of the options open to him but whilst we kept the ball superbly for long periods in the first half, in general it just led to congestion. It was only Bale who consistently made space and forced West Brom back, everyone else operated at a pace that caused zero problems. Lennon in particular struggled to find the room he needed to make an impact. His form is such that itâ€™s almost as though heâ€™s not really recovered from his injury at the start of the year.
We scored after a comedy balls up by the Baggies centre halves and lost an equaliser after one of our own men in the middle, Gallas, was made to look a mug by Fortune, which doesnâ€™t bode well. He was booked in the second half for rugby tackling Jerome Thomas after heâ€™d gone past him on the same side. Letâ€™s hope itâ€™s just ring rustiness as heâ€™s going to play a lot in the coming months and he canâ€™t just throw himself at anyone who runs at him and hope for the best.
Pav up front on his own was a waste of space but heâ€™s not got the tools for that job. He is no Zamora/Cole/Carew etc or even Crouch when it comes to holding up play & keeping possession via the medium of hard work and sharp elbows.
Plus points were the magnificent Bale, the saves by Cudicini, even though he was out jumped for their goal and the signs from Modric and Van der Vaart that thereâ€™s magic to come. Against this, there was the inability of the midfield to get a grip in the second half, the lack of sharpness by almost everyone near goal plus the signs that Harryâ€™s not sure how to fit all the pieces of this jigsaw together, especially with no Defoe available. All of sudden we seem to have become a work in progress.
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