Reply to comment

FA PREMIER LEAGUE: TOTTENHAM HOTSPUR 1 BOLTON WANDERERS 0

EYEWITNESS report by DAN CARRIER
at WHITE HART LANE

MY parents did their courting during the 1960/61 season: my dad was born Spurs, and took his new girlfriend to savour the delights of the Lane. What a team he took her to see, and it cemented not only their relationship but meant their off spring were destined to be Lilywhite.

I remember for some time my older brother and sisters going to the game when I was deemed too young. I remember feeling left out, cursing the fact I was aged four and too little to sit through a whole, entire match

So when my dad said he had got us six tickets to see Spurs take on Bristol City, I remember being full of it at school, telling any one who would listen that I, a big boy now (six to be precise), was off to the football on Saturday.

My main memories are of it being a gloriously hot day - aren’t all days sunny in six-year-old memories? - and parking our battered Volvo in a back street in a special car parking space our neighbour, the football writer Hunter Davies, always used, and swore by. We sat in the south stand, a big wooden contraption, near the front of the upper tier. I have a vision of Ossie Ardiles streaking into the box and smacking a shot against the right hand post. I also remember eating monkey nuts which my dad bought me from a man who walked up and down the aisles, shouting peeeeeaaaa-nuts at the top of his voice. They tasted of dust.

My dad got me a programme and scrawled across it ’Dan’s first game’. On the front is an architects model of the proposed new West Stand, the stand I sit in now.  Looking at the line up today, you can see the bones of a very strong side - a side enhanced the following year by the arrival of Garth Crooks and Steve Archibald, who finished third in the league and won the cup.

Steve Perryman, Glenn Hoddle, Ossie, Tony Galvin, Terry Yorath and Chris Hughton were in Keith Burkinshaw’s first XI - glancing at Bristol City’s team, the only recognisable name is Joe Royle, though I also recall vaguely being told on the way home, the day’s treats being topped off with a bag of vinegary chips eaten in the car, that the City keeper, Ray Cashley (where are you now, oh wrecker of boyhood dreams?), had a blinder. Perhaps that was my family‘s way of telling it‘s youngest to get used things not always panning out how you would like them to.

Back to the present, and oh what a match to be celebrating our anniversary! A boiling, bubbling White Hart Lane, knowing we’re just three games away from competing in the Champions League, and arguably in a cold-light-of-day kind of a way, the most important match in the 30 years since I have been here: in terms of what qualification would mean, it’s massive. Can you imagine Luka Modric or Gareth Bale paying any attention to inevitable transfer gossip this summer if the team are preparing for a European adventure next term?

To take another massive step towards Europe, Harry pushed Bale forward on the left after his run out as a fullback in the Manchester United defeat. Modric and Huddlestone were paired in the middle, meaning there was no place for Palacios.

It didn’t take Spurs time to find their feet. They had all the play, but the final passes were slightly over hit, as if the importance of a nerve-settling opener was seeping through the tips of their toes.

On 36, a square ball by Benoit Assou-Ekotto found Tom Huddlestone in space. He took it in his stride and nailed a wonderful drive past Jaaskelainen. Power and precision took his shot into the very top right hand corner from 20-plus yards. It was deserved, and for a player who has really grown into his anchorman berth this year, a wonderful memory to treasure from a pretty wonderful season for Tom.

It was much the same in the second period. Hudd came close on 58 with another edge of the box effort. Defoe curled a shot just wide, then Pav went close with a header. It felt like a goal had to come, like the rain threatened by the storm clouds that gathered since the break: Bale was played in by Defoe and Jasskelainen some how managed to keep it out. Gomes’s only real touch came to cover an effort from Kevin Davies on 62, and then on 87 from Jack Wilshere. 

Other chances came and went, and the news that City were leading too added to the pressure-cooker atmosphere - one nil up is never comfy at the Lane.That was the way it stayed - they don’t half put you through the emotional mincer, this lot, but it’s all I expect, and why I love it so much.

Now a win at Manchester City’s Eastlands on Wednesday and we’re in the Champs League.

It has been a fantastic 30 years - every thing you’d want and expect from a long marriage. Some trials and tribulations, but plenty of joy, and above all a deep, loving, warm feeling whenever I think of the club - happy anniversary, Spurs, I love you.

Hero: No one played badly, and while there were some great individual games - what more does Daws have to do to prove he is worthy of a trip to the World Cup? - the last ‘Hero’ award goes to Harry Redknapp. He has played a blinder all season, juggled the pack when needed and created an exciting team to watch. 

Villain: A simply atrocious display from referee C. Foy. In the first half I got bored of counting the amount of times he refused to blow up as the Bolton centre backs manhandled anyone in their vicinity. He penalised Hudd for being fouled, gave incorrect throw-ons, and generally got every ones backs up with his failure to get a grip. Early in the second half a Bolton player fell over the ball without a Spurs play near him, winning himself a free kick. It was comically bad.

Move of the Match: Bale’s first half 50-yard dash and shot was pretty, Hud’s goal superb, and Kaboul was barnstorming whenever he went forward. One moment that really stands out was a lovely piece of defensive tidy up by King, Assou-Ekotto and Dawson. They played lovely a series of triangular passes and it was like watching three Beckenbaur’s at work.  That is the effect Ledley has on those around him. Let’s hope his knee is ok for Wednesday.