Falling in love again
By Paul Johnson • Jul 16, 2014 • 12
Last year as the final whistle sounded on a disappointing season it felt good to get some space and hypothetically suggest not coming back, but here we are ready for more. SniersMoregut looks deep into his soul and tells us why Spurs matter to him and why he can’t wait to get back to simply supporting the club he loves, top four or not.
mmediately after the final whistle it began. A private monologue of misery, one that I’d had on occasions before, but there was something different this time – it felt like an unbreakable bond had in fact been broken. The depth of disappointment I felt was (or seemed) fathoms below the normal post season pain. I thought they’d lost me.
The words flew through my mind:
“I can’t see me renewing after that. One of the worst seasons I can recall in over 30. It wasn’t the results or where we finished. It just felt so awful, so disappointing, so painful, so disorganised, random, aimless and ultimately pointless.
“They’ve lost me. Sherwood, Levy, ENIC, StubHub, Eastlands, The Death Star, all of it. I don’t like it anymore. There’s no good, the joy has gone. I’m done with that.”
But something unexpected happened in the intervening weeks. The sheer, unadulterated joy and brilliance of the World Cup was a surprisingly cathartic experience. Being sucked in to a thrilling festival of football, able to enjoy the games as a near neutral, consuming football in a slightly different way. I could simply admire the unfolding drama of each game as a dispassionate observer.
The results were secondary to the spectacle itself. There was something to admire in every game, something to grip my attention, excite the senses and push me to the edge of my seat. Perhaps even jump out of it. I was left exhausted, excited and elevated after some games. It reminded me why I love football and why I wander up the High Road. Spurs hadn’t lost me, I’d lost Tottenham.
And so I started to think.
What is supporting Spurs all about. Really, if you strip away all the noise and nonsense. Why did I start and what really matters?
April 30th 1978. Tottenham were visiting Southampton, my home town. I knew a lot about Spurs as my two older brothers were devoted fans who on their return from boarding school would always show me their incredible and comprehensive scrap books of newspaper cuttings of match reports. But I’d never been to a real game of football – I’d seen The Big Match frequently and always watched the full day drama of the FA Cup Final but televised football was exceptionally rare.
Here though was a chance to go and see the players in the flesh. In real life. I could watch the idols and heroes I’d read all about and seen very rarely on crappy highlights shows. I could see Glenn.
The fact that Spurs needed to not lose to secure immediate promotion back to Division One was secondary and almost an afterthought. That was not why I was going – although once I was stood on the terrace, I had been sucked into the drama. I was in, this was it, and they had me.
And now 36 years later I think I and many have lost touch with why we go, what the point is and what really matters. We’ve become conditioned and conned into thinking that a finish outside of the Top 4 is a failed season. You’re a nothing club, with no hope, ambition or chance of real success.
When I started going it was 1st or nowhere – and we were never 1st, but now 4th is a success, why is that?
Three sides have done better than you, you’ve won nothing – you’ve just got an invite to dinner at the best restaurant, whilst those that failed get the scraps for the Europa League fast food franchise.
We gauge our Managers and playing staff against this mythical and misleading objective – this mirage of make believe. “FOFO” – 4th or f*** off, might be appended to Pochettino’s contract. But not by me – I’m not falling for it anymore. It’s not why I renewed and it’s not why I’m going.
I’m going because I love Spurs. Because of Glenn and the white shirts. Because we’ll always have a player that will make my heart soar. Because we try and play football the way it should be played.
I’m going because of swagger, for the noise at night games, because of Bill, Ardiles, Archibald, Perryman. I’m going because Gareth Bale was made in Tottenham and I witnessed it.
I’m going because Lamela might illuminate a grey day. I know we’ll lose some daft games but I can’t revel in a win if I don’t accept the risk of losing. There are 36 years between a 7-0 hammering at Anfield in 1978 and a 6-0 massacre at Eastlands – we’ve always been prone to a stuffing. That’s who and what we are. But we also mauled Milan and knocked nine past Wigan.
So my hopes for next season are not hard wired to a Top 4 place. I want to see a flick I’ve never seen before, a volley that takes my breath away, a fight back against the odds. A goal that I can talk about for hours and hours. The emergence of another star in the finest tradition of the club. A chant or song that makes me laugh. A team that cares, that grows and matures playing expansive, free flowing, exciting football that makes my heart race.
A team with an identity. One that looks like Tottenham.
I’m letting go of the Sky induced fixation and I already feel better for it.
Hello Tottenham – GHod I’ve missed you
Thank you though!
