The GB News man had a hot take for us, while adaptations of the same old Dickens leave me cold
Monday
Just over a week ago, I headed up to north London to see Spurs play Wolves. As we’d recently lost to Chelsea (several times) and Southampton, my expectations weren’t high. Just some signs that the players vaguely recognised one another would have been nice. But even that was too much to ask. Wolves took the lead early on thanks to some chaotic defending, doubled it within 20 minutes and Tottenham never mustered a threatening shot on goal. Come the final whistle, the person in charge of the PA system immediately ramped up the music to drown out the sound of the boos from the few spectators who had bothered to stick it out to the end. On the walk back to the tube, Matthew and I wondered if the team had hit a new low. Going to matches was beginning to feel like a chore. Without even the excitement of a relegation battle to liven things up. Just an endless tide of mediocrity. Then came Saturday’s match away to Manchester City, one that took even the diehard optimists by surprise. An early goal to give you hope where previously you had none. Tick. A City equaliser to remind you it was only a matter of time before they scored again. Tick. A second goal totally against the run of play to reignite the hope. Tick. A third goal disallowed to make sure you’re not tempted to relax. Tick. A 90th-minute penalty conceded to allow City to level the game and for you to convince yourself a draw isn’t so bad and that you’re not secretly devastated. Tick. An improbable 95th-minute winner to steal all three points. Tick. This was Classic Spurs. One week seemingly useless and unable to see where their next win is coming from and the next beating the best team in Europe. And nothing in between. It’s why I love and support the team. But God it feels exhausting.
