We’re going to Spurs on Sunday afternoon.
The international break’s out of the way and proper football can come back. We missed nothing, apart from Emi Martinez attempting to declare war on the Brazilian police and a couple of little knocks for one or two of our players that will probably require major surgery. Apart from that and having to wait another day because it’s on Sunday, welcome to the joys and pleasures of Spurs away.
SThere probably aren’t two words that can sum up how football has changed more than ‘Spurs away.’ They used to be synonymous with the sort of horrible away end we used to endure, where the fact that you could only see half the pitch was a blessing because what was happening on it was so bad. In fact, the old away end at White Hart Lane used to be so horrible it was said that the best view was to stand in the corner and look at the TV in the nearest executive box. Then there was the stroll back to Seven Sisters, where the best way to get out unscathed was to smile a lot and pretend you were Norwegian when someone without a watch asked if you knew whether he was late for his tea. Nowadays Spurs away is a doddle if you’ve got the money and the blokes asking you if you’ve got the time are now asking who’s got any spares. Thirty years of the Premier League can be summed up in the words ‘Spurs away’.
That’s the nostalgia out of the way; onto the present. Spurs are doing okay, which is to say they’re fourth in the table, three places below what they claim to be their rightful place. They might be less violent now but they’re no less arrogant, which is always funny when the season ends with Spurs winning nothing again. They’ve got a few injuries so expect some miracle recoveries between now and Sunday afternoon. We’ve got, with a bit of luck, a couple of our long-term outs back in again. May as well be optimistic; we’ve got about as much chance of winning here as we did last time we were lucky enough to be making up the numbers at Spurs away.
