Hoping for three points tomorrow and a month that won’t end with yet another last second dramatic go on then why not transfer deal to Tottenham. Although if it did it would be the norm and fairly acceptable practice in the Spurs universe. And hardly anyone will scoff if it turns out to be another player of similar ilk to the Dutch maestro, our galvanising force behind our sparkling resurgence from the dark days of two points eight games. Hopefully Daniel Levy will spare a thought for Jim White on Sky Sports News and have our consolidation signings done and dusted well before the deadline to avoid his head from exploding as he eats the camera and pulls himself out of the television and into your living room.
Blog awards and some other bits and pieces looking back on 2010 will follow in early January. It’s been ridiculous these past twelve months. Heart strings pulled and plucked all over the place. Gone, it appears, are the constant lulls of pain and hurt. The shrugs of despondency when the realisation that yet another transitional season is upon us. What we have now is altogether a different experience. A renaissance.
We play with style. With spirit. With belief. We have world class players and ones that aspire to be. We’ve taken back the copyright, no longer clown princes but Kings of the Lane, and entertainers – domestically and abroad where we’ve injected the premier European competition with plenty of glory glory football.
And then there’s the glue. The sticky stuff. No, no, I’m not talking about excitable nights in watching DVDs. But rather the glue that keeps it all together. This sustained progression, this onwards journey. Our soundbite happy gaffer. Bless him. And of course the supporters who for once - when we finally do have players of quality and a unit of players playing for each other, the badge and the support – we all manage to keep our feet firmly on the ground (be it with plenty of jumping up and down), enjoying every second of it. And why not. After so many years of false dawns, messiahs coming and going, internal politics and failed continental experiments – we flirt, genuinely flirt with the top tier as it seductively lifts its skirt up at us, panties on show, restrained salivating, first base no longer enough.
So, onwards may this majesty of THFC continue. We’re by no means the finished article. We have a lot of work to do. But in pure footballing terms, we have our Tottenham back.
Some bum slapping now. Massive thanks to:
teh trunk, Chris Toy at Studs Up, All Action No Plot, Who Framed Ruel Fox?, Spurs Musing, Windy, Tottenham On My Mind, thfc1882, Football Filter, NewsNow, iFanshare, enemy Republik of Mancunia and new kids on the block False10. Also all the Spurs fans on Twitter and the girls and boys of Facebook and all the new Spurs bloggers that have lost their blogging cheery this past year. And lest we forget the heathens at Glory Glory. If I've forgotton you, your cheque bounced.
Happy new year. To dare is to get very drunk.
Spooky recommends...All-conquering Englishman spurs his way across Europe
Having blagged his way into a Barcelona FC press conference...
"My fantasy interview was cut short by someone entering the room talking on a mobile phone. I turned to see who it was and couldn’t believe my eyes. Xavi, all 5’7” of him (he’s a littl’un) was standing beside me having a chat to someone, probably his girlfriend, telling her he would be home for dinner soon and could she make sure there were a few San Miguels in the fridge. He glanced at me with a look that said,
“Who the **** are you?” and I nodded a greeting his way. He then looked down at the cockerel on my chest and sighed the kind of sigh that I knew meant, “If only they would put in a bid for me. I would love to play for Spurs one day.”
He finished his conversation and left me alone once again."