Decent target, reasonably priced
Daniel, it's 18:18pm, July thirteenth. Thursday evening. I'm sat here contemplating the season ahead. It's a lot to take in. More so when you look back on the one that we've left behind. A month to go before it all re-starts and the same old emotions will be regurgitated. The agendas and the perspectives, the routine deliveries of angst and bile. You know, you've heard it all before. We all have. After-all, when you've got eleven men out on the pitch, there aren't that many brand new variables to analyse in the post-match when we've been doing this for generations. Then again, arguably, there are plenty of new variables on account of us not quite having been here before. You know, within touching distance of the summit.
So, am I confident?
I am. At least I think I am. Sure, Wembley is the big bad klaxon of potential doom that will make our ears bleed if the noise emanating from it is is purely made of discontent. Never known a place with so few pubs. As Martin Cloake would say, rather be here than Milton Keynes. I won't lie that the nucleus of any potential meltdown I might experience will be the one that festers in the minds of those that will frequent our rented accommodation if we don't hit the ground running. The fixture list for the opening six or so games has this almost dizzying ominous darkness about it. On paper, it's already mocking us.
Damn it Daniel, this is what happens where I have no distractions. I over think the things that have yet to come to pass. Sure enough, I'll be enduring the official statement on Walker's departure soon but perhaps a pick me up is required for all of us to push through the next four weeks with minimal upheaval? You have any ideas on how to achieve this? Do you need some help?
I'm going to let you in on a little secret. Every day, once a day, give yourself a present. Don't plan it, don't wait for it, just let it happen. It could be a ham and cheese bagel, a power-nap, a booty call to Joe Lewis. You'll feel great for it. Don't let go of that uplifting feeling and then focus on giving us a little present. Preferably one in the region of £30M - £40M. The type that's incoming rather than outgoing.
You know how Spurs of old would go gung-ho for a marquee signing that would be our occasional saviour (or just out-rightly flop) and proceed to stand out like a sore thumb in a team of collected misfits? Remember those desperate times? Now we have this well oiled machine; a team. Every player as good and as vital as the next. Now imagine that marquee game-changing something thrown into the mix that can make the ilk of difference we lacked in say, for example, that ill fated semi-final (which I'm sure I've cited once before recently). But mostly make the difference when say Kane isn't available or those encounters where we dropped costly points (away from home).
When you consider where we do need to improve (away from home yeah) and then add to it the Wembley hoodoo everyone that isn't Tottenham is hoping to see continued...well, it's a picture I'd rather not paint. The streams of consciousness the Lilywhite faithful are currently sharing in heightened (fear) anticipation of this new season is like a modern day tower of Babel built with crisps.
Think of the bench Daniel. It needs to be strong enough to hold up the ones that aren't sitting on it. I'm sure Poch will be able to recommend a decent target, reasonably priced. That's what we need, decent target, reasonably priced. Just be wary of the £30M last gasp deadline day ones. They don't tend to work too well. Like that last one. Was that one of yours or we blaming Poch? Don't answer that. I'd rather not know.