I am become Deadwood, destroyer of worlds
The Book of Daniel - I am Become Deadwood, Destroyer of Worlds
By Ryan the Perplexed
And it came to pass that Boaz was banished from the midst of the Tottenhamites. His men finally croaked as much as voice did. In his place, Daniel placed a man with even less wisdom in the ways of football than even he himself. His name was Sin Deadwood, he had won the league once 20 years before, and he taketh no prisoners.
And so Sin Deadwood set about raising Hell. And from Hell emerged Emmanuel, sent there by Boaz due to the Battle of the Beanie Hat. And yea, Emmanuel rose from the depths with hellfire in his belly and a desire to prove the Doubters wrong. And so Emmanuel helped Sin Deadwood, and Sin helped him, as the chaff was brushed aside in the early days.
And lo, the camp of the Tottenhamites was split between the lovers of Boaz and his slow, sad ways and the followers of Sin - a propa football man , uppeth & at em, fak the tactics.
'What is going on?' the Tottenhamites cried 'We thought we had sold Elijah and signed the Apostles! Useless are they! A circus of expensive freaks! Behold Paulinho - a man with no heart! Here is Vlad - a man with no liver! Regard Soldado - can this be the man who terrorised Spain? He would struggle to terrorise a dead chicken. Where is Lamela? The amazing invisible man. Like God is he. We are told he exists and can perform wonders, but we are yet to see any evidence of his existence. Are there no depths lower to which Daniel can drag us? We lost to the Spamites thrice and they have the strength of a leper and are managed by a disgusting beast which revels in its own dung! We lost to the Goonites thrice again, and even that simple deformed creature Szczesny mocked us with pictures of his ugly face profaning our own temple! They even won a cup after nine years of drought, by beating Wigan and Hull! Is this a sick joke? Yet forever we are the punch line. Woe is! Again and again. The Kopites believe they are the Chosen Ones and play like we should, including defending dreadfully. O Daniel, why didn't you appoint that strange fish Rodgers to manage us? Instead we got Boaz and then a deranged Owl. Farce upon farce. How we long for the days of VdV, Gareth, Luka and the most precious jewel of all, called Hope. Where are they now? What have you done? You have sold our birthright for a bowl of pottage and Nacer Chadli.'
And greatly vexed was Daniel by the utterings of Sin, which were even worse than the dung spouted so often by Ari. 'Where is the dignity?' demanded Daniel. 'Where is the wise counsel? Where is the patience? Where is the humility?' And the Tottenhamites rose as one and replied 'Look at thyself in the mirror, O Daniel, for thine answer. Behold a monster of your own making. This is the mess you have wrought with your own hand.' And then the Tottenhamites sat back down again because the stewards told them to, and also the football was just so dull.
And so Sin Deadwood's side were pillaged by the Kopites, Al-Citeh, and the vile hordes of Jose's Despicables. And the season was only going to end in one place - nowhere. And so Sin Deadwood took on the customs of Ari the Rentagob, but stopped short of winding down his car window with Kevin the Bondsman in the background. Sin had no trouble convincing Tottenhamites and the nations of the Earth that he was as dumb as he actually looked. He donned a vestment of gilet and, once taken by the rapture, began strange dances with it on the touchline. This was the behaviour of a heathen which upset the Tottenhamites even more.
And the players lost faith in Daniel and his acts. Arrogance filled the belly of Vertonghen, who believed himself the next Puyol, yet he started playing like the next Chris Perry.
'For fornication's sake, Daniel' wailed the Tottenhamites 'we can't take much more. You make mistake after mistake, sin after sin and yet expect reward? Verily, Pleat tool over Hoddle in 2003-4 and that season was worse than dung and rotting carcasses in the noonday sun. Gary Doherty and Tony Gardner in defence, Rohan Rickety, with spawn of Ari in midfield! Ten years later and it's amateur night again with Deadwood fielding a central midfield of Sigg and Bentaleb against Liverpool. It could be funny but our eyes doth run dry. Our laughter floweth down the drainpipes of the High Road.'
And so Daniel retreated into his lair, thinking about his sins. He looked back at 13 years and saw that he had switched from a technical manager to an old school one and back again: Graham begat Hoddle, Hoddle begat Pleat, Pleat begat Santini, Santini begat Jol, Jol begat Ramos, Ramos begat Ari. Ari begat Boaz, Boaz begat Deadwood and now Deadwood would beget whom? Of course, Daniel thought, none of them worked out long term. Neither have my directors of football. They have been found wanting and fail. It must be everyone else's fault but my own! Who is there upon the earth who can sell players better than me? Hudd gone for £6m, Defoe £8m, Pav for almost £10m - sales without equal. Some wretches even payeth me loan fees for David Bentley.
Yet to the Tottenhamites it was clear that their beloved was becoming evermore like a market, and less a football club. Every time the wind changed there was a new manager, new players but no improvement. Lots of movement but not enough time.
'We asked you to help us, Daniel' exclaimed the Tottenhamites ' You were brought forth to end these decades on the wilderness. Drained are we from the glare of Goonite smugness, parched are we from thirst from the famine of hopelessness. Every time we spy an oasis on the horizon, by the time we reach it, what water is left tastes like the stale p*ss of an incontinent goat, like the beer at White Hart lane.
And so Daniel went to The Lord. 'What can I do, O Lord? Last summer I did what you told me to. I brought in Francis of Baldini, I spent the Bale money, I didn't sack Boaz and restrained myself from writing any futile open letters to my enemies. I tell the Tottenhamites that our new Temple will be ready in three years, as I have said the same thing for the past ten. Ari, his spawn, and the Hacks now question me more than ever. Uncle Joseph of Lewis sails on the warm western seas watching his shekels grow, while I flounder in dung! The team look like eleven strangers in search of a purpose, especially when Rose gets out of position, the fans are close to mutiny and one hundred million shekels have been spent with doubtful return.'
And The Lord said into Daniel 'Whatever you doeth, annoint the new manager before the World Cup. Six months have you had to resolve this, and still you wait. Pochettino or De Boer you say? It doesn't matter Daniel, the one you chose will fail and the other will goeth on to win the Champions League playing beautiful football. This is the way it is for the Tottenhamites, and always will be. Go forth and teach the Tottenhamites that hope is the enemy, despair is your friend, and that there are huge discounts on Lloris merchandise at the Club shop because no doubt you will sell him.'
The Book of Daniel