Michel Vorm bottled a goal. Check. Jose parked the bus with a one-goal lead. Check. We weren’t good enough to keep that one-goal lead. Check. Various midfielders and forwards had no clue what to do with the ball or how to mount an attack. Check. Tim Krul spooked our kids in a penalty shootout. Check. Dele waved his arms complaining about a pass not coming his way, then stopped hustling for his final 15 minutes. Check.
What did you expect? This is who we are. Sure if the defender doesn’t jump in front of Aurier’s shot to a wide open net, we score a winner. But seriously, they were every bit as deserving as us, maybe more.
Only for a brief while after the Vertonghen goal, and then again near the end of regular time, and then one more time in extra time, did the rich and powerful Tottenham Hotspur carry the action forward against bottom-dwelling Norwich. Because with this squad, under this manager, that’s all we do. Occasionally force the action—when we feel like it. But though the Argentines buzzed around the box, the quality of a good pass, an accurate shot, a game-winning exertion was simply not there.
So I’ll stop there. We were never winning any silverware this year anyway. Leipzig will probably end all hopes in six days. And our Champions League hopes won’t last much longer than that. Behind closed doors—as seems increasingly likely within a month’s time—would probably be a tonic for this club. Save 60,000 poor souls the misery of watching this particular team. We can start again in the summer.
(I have to add the following. I just saw the video of Dier. It is so sad. This club is unraveling. Be careful what you wish for is the message here. The new stadium is a haunted place. Nobody loves the manager. The team is underperforming. These are difficult days, indeed)
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