In my previous article, I said: “We could see some surprise results away [over Tuesday & Wednesday], while we steadily ascend, looking downwards to those that are falling, while also steadily chipping away at those above us. Then you will all be asking; what FA Cup or what Micky Mouse tournament? How easy we’ll forget once we face new challenges.” And what happened? On the Tuesday Newcastle United beat City, while Manchester United drew with struggling Burnley.
Then on the day of our match Bournemouth – yes – Bournemouth spanked Chelsea to the tune of 4 big smackers. And as for Leicester City, they managed to hold Liverpool to a draw. The only sad and hair pulling result that wasn’t digestible was Cardiff succumbing to Arsenal’s vituperation (they’ve got City over the weekend! That’ll teach the buggers to beat the saddened Welsh bluebirds).
We needed to lift ourselves up after our forced two cup exits.
This time around we had Son back with us. The squad looked positive and were up for it. Even though it wasn’t that long ago that we were knocked out of the two tournaments, the side that was going to face Watford was a different, stronger side.
The crowd for this Wembley game was about 29,164. Loyalty doesn’t run deep for all when it comes to what some fans regard as lowly teams (when facing us). Some have suggested that a large portion of the fans were still sleeping off the Christmas drinks, of course, if it had been City, United, Liverpool, Chelsea or the sneak thieves Arsenal, then you’d be surprised how one can be quickly resurrected to full life. In the old days – or maybe not that long ago – Spurs would have got a full house when challenging for honours. Some have even argued, as an excuse for poor attendance, that Wembley isn’t our home… but it isn’t the home but the contents inside the house that is important. Granted, it is my job to go where Spurs go, but even if I had another engagement, I would sneak out and by hook or crook go to see the connection that runs through my veins. But that is me. We are now living in the age of the zombies and social-brain damaging screens, so there are more important things out there than what drags one into life-altering experiences (such as Spurs). But enough of my whinging, as the great philosopher Larry Grayson once said, “Each to their own”. Or better still, remember what Billy Shankly famously said (who’s he? “Another Spurs player…?” That about says it all!) “Some people think football is a matter of life and death. I assure you, it’s much more serious than that.” Enough about past football quotes and managers/ players nobody in the modern epoch has heard of, I hear you shout.
So, to our league-fluctuating game; yes, Watford. We were up for it as we watched through our fingers, but it wasn’t until Cathcart headed home a Jose Holesbas’ corner that the dizziness came over us.
They (Spurs) marched into their dressing rooms as the half-time whistle went (for a stern talking to). Fifteen minutes later they walked back out into the freezing cold and got into their position, then the whistle went to signal the second half was underway.
We increased the pressure and Harry’s replacement Llorente twice had great prospects to score but missed from close range before Son Heung-min did the honours. The fans were delirious and urged the players on. But the minutes and seconds were ticking by. Finally, Llorente hit the target when he directed Rose’s ball past sleepy Foster (ok, he wasn’t that sleepy, we just made him seem that way).
Four minutes of added time and the fists were in mouths; the fans clutched each other (or the “other” that were acceptable to clutch… ladies or men who had other thoughts just glared at anybody who was thinking the unthinkable… no… no touchy or will get kicky in the bollocky. Touchy without permission means a swift knee to the groin, now that is acceptable, and rightly so; respect!). Sorry, getting carried away here!
Anyway, we got through the four minutes, and then the place exploded and with the other results coming in, the tears really did flow with joy, and what a lovely woman joy is!.
Two bloody points behind City, seven behind Liverpool, but even better, those under us were dropping away, and we must make sure that they continue falling like a skydiver who has just realised that he hasn’t got his parachute on and is hurtling towards his doom (splatter and sludge!).
It is always great when one leaves a venue with a victory, and with that victory means, even more, barricading oneself into the top-four-fortress of the land of the holy grail (yes, the Champions league).
We have at least four more points after 24 Premier League games than we have ever had at this stage of the competition. We also had netted 13 headed goals in the Premier League in 2018-19, our most in a single top-flight season since 1999-00, when we scored 16 under manager George Graham.
So that is that and a successful two days completed (not just our result), and now we move back to Wembley to face Newcastle United this Saturday. They can have their odd moments so we must be warned and careful (City didn’t take such heed and lost 2-1, denting their title chances). We also must remember that Newcastle has done some severe damage to us in past meetings.
Another tale told (no, not a cat’s tail, but a story of mystery and suspenders).
Be happy and see you all soon.
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