Plenty of people like to attack Tottenham. They like it because it’s easy - anyone can get a good shot off against Spurs and the other day that extended to an unlikely source. Hugo Lloris was one of their own and even he fancied a ping.
The dig was slipped into the pages of his new book and aimed at Daniel Levy. It was a cheap hit, really, and based on a gesture that backfired before the 2019 Champions League final against Liverpool, when the chairman gifted each of his players a luxury watch. The offence, such as it was, had been caused by a word inscribed on the back: ‘Finalist.’
‘Who does such a thing at a moment like this?’ Lloris wrote. ‘I still haven’t got over it, and I’m not alone.
‘I have considerable respect for the man but there are things he is simply not sensitive to. As magnificent as the watch is, I have never worn it. With an engraving like that, Levy couldn’t have been surprised if we had been 1-0 down after a couple of minutes.’
Drawing a line between a watch and an iffy penalty after 106 seconds was a bit of a stretch. Daft even, and Lloris isn’t typically a daft man. But it was always going to be a point that found an audience, because it played to the old theme of Tottenham lacking the right stuff.
I never much cared for the ‘Spursy’ term – it doesn’t carry the wit of its cousin, ‘Dr Tottenham’. As in, Dr Tottenham will see you now and take all your problems away. They gave Palace a first win of the season and supplied the same relief for Ipswich. Next up, they face Manchester City and the expectation will be of a similar service to Pep Guardiola in his time of need.
Whenever I think of Tottenham, I think about my nephew, a wonderful boy. He can run through the names and nuances of their squad without drawing breath and could probably recite the birthdays, too – he’s at that lovely stage on the obsession arc. But he knows the drill by now, so when they dominated Leicester on the opening day and left with a draw, he sent me a message: ‘Classic Spurs.’ He’s 11 years old and sometimes my sister blames herself for what was imposed on him.
But he’s very much pro-Ange and that’s nice, because I tend to think Postecoglou is the most fascinating manager in the division.
I wrote in this space towards the end of last season about the beautiful madness of Postecoglou and compared him a little facetiously to one of those preachers who demonstrate their faith with rattlesnakes. The point was about knowing the dangers of placing too much belief in an ideology, because there are only so many times you can get bitten.
It’s been just over a year since he took Tottenham to the top of the Premier League and introduced us to the style that was so daring and intoxicating, before it started to look so flawed. Coming out of this international break, they sit 10th and we aren’t talking about a blip or post-Euros lull.
If we were to study the past 38 league games, only four clubs among the 17 who retained their place in the division have lost more than the 16 given up by Postecoglou’s Tottenham and their 56 points in that span is good for 10th. They would be considerably closer to the bottom three than top three in that reckoning - Bournemouth have one point more.
It’s not a real league table but it is a real funk.
Eventually it won’t be enough to merely offer more entertainment than an Antonio Conte side, and we may be there already. To listen to the rather irate fan who called into talkSPORT last weekend, Postecoglou ‘couldn’t motivate a tin of tuna’.
You might struggle with the imagery but you can understand the frustrations – a team that stuffed United at Old Trafford, beat Manchester City in the Carabao Cup and put four on Aston Villa also lost to Ipswich and Palace and took nothing from a 2-0 lead at Brighton.
They are a side to be enjoyed but not trusted. A side that goes on a lovely stroll up field but is forever leaving the house unlocked. A side that routinely gives up the first goal in games. A side that remains one of the worst for defending set-pieces. A side with no plan B, but plan A could only really work if Son Heung-min was closer to his brilliant peak and a truly elite finisher had replaced Harry Kane.
And so you have to wonder about Postecoglou. After City, their next nine league fixtures include Chelsea, Liverpool, Newcastle and Arsenal, as well as the overachievers at Fulham and Nottingham Forest. It could be a slog.
But I’d hope none of that feeds into the usual outcome for a manager. The league is better for the presence of a stubborn dreamer, a scowler in a black suit who is committed to using only the brightest colours in his work.
Postecoglou’s image versus his tactical outlook mimics the contradictions of the club itself – they have the finest stadium in football but an institutional resistance to spending the wages necessary to fill it with the best players.
For Levy, top four will always be the prime objective, anything else a bonus, and that’s the sort of messaging Lloris was fumbling at. The summer transfer business supported what is so often said about them, because when an opportunity presented itself, with Liverpool and Chelsea changing manager and United panicked into keeping Erik Ten Hag, Spurs signed four teenagers and one established striker in Dominic Solanke.
The regret comes from the impression that when chances present themselves, Levy sets the template for what follows on the pitch – he just won’t convert.
To watch Tottenham is to see a team that is not so far off. If anything, there have been improvements in everything but the numbers that actually matter. No one has scored more, only four have conceded less. It just mostly strikes in the wrong places at the wrong times.
Those are metrics which indicate the manager’s system could work. That with a higher calibre of personnel the madness could have some merit.
But for now, it is easier to enjoy the idea of Postecoglou more than the reality. Those maligned watches are ticking on how long it is considered sustainable.
Why Cates could be what Match of the Day needs
Our reporters were asked the question this week of who should replace Gary Lineker on Match of the Day. I went with Kelly Cates, who shared a quite brilliant tale when I interviewed her and Graeme Souness six years ago about their work together on Sky Sports.
I had brought along a black and white photograph of Souness holding Cates as a toddler and she had her tongue poked out at him. Of course, Souness is close to her old man, Kenny Dalglish, and so he was over at their house pretty regularly in those Liverpool days, which led to him often taking Cates out in her pram. In our chat she outed his motive to use her as his ‘wing man’.
There was no denial from Souness: ‘Without realising it, she was my introduction to some lovely young ladies. I’d be walking along and then, “What a gorgeous baby”.’
His grin told the rest of that story, before he went on to paint a picture of how he, Alan Hansen and Dalglish would forever park themselves in the latter’s living room to debate the nitty gritty of football. When Cates walked in, she would hold her own. These days she still does, steering the discussions between Sky’s alphas better than anyone and with no ego. It feels precisely like the change of pace that Match of the Day needs.
Tyson's defeat was a sad spectacle
Out of curiosity I watched Mike Tyson’s defeat to Jake Paul.
He looked old walking to the ring and he looked older as he ambled around after that muppet for eight rounds. It was a despicable concept but above all else it just felt a bit sad that it ever came to this.
