Spurs vs Liverpool - incomplete thoughts on a completely thoughtless game
It was difficult to get as excited about the game as I had been. Heading back to the Bakery on a burning hot, cloudless afternoon, suffering the exit wounds of a night on the sauce was tricky enough but all I could think about what a difficult weekend it had been for LB and I. That and my feet as every step dug into my flip-flop sores, reopening the wounds where blisters had blistered. Every thought was a wince; the build up to the party the night before; the shifting of my feet in the previously unworn Reef, camouflage, bottle-opener sandals I had meant to take off two days earlier; the irritation with which we both treated one another; the flip-flops rubbing against the same old spots; trying to get ready for trek across London we were both too tired to make; trying to tread lightly on the balls of my feet; the hell of the journey - the arsey taxi driver, no beer, not knowing the address, the internet broken; the blood soaking into the toe divider. I stopped being able to feel it all. It all became the numbness of the day before work and the day we’d lose our most gifted player.
Thankfully, the party itself had been a success, or we at it at least. Fancy dress is never the best to gear up to but it’s amazing how fast your troubles disappear when in costume as Jimmy Saville and Jimmy Saville.
The Saville had seen us through. The Saville protected us but by the morning, we were just exhausted. I don’t even remember going to bed. I don’t remember sleeping. I remember waking up in the cool shade of LB’s freezing winter bedroom. We had slept through. Not a moment awake until the morning and when I did open my eyes all was calm; as much hung over from the revelrey as our moods with each other - calm and sorry.
Too early to rise I’d slept some more, though a thousand delusions of missing the game, forgetting my ticket, getting the time wrong, even shopping at Lidel at dusk when only suddenly did it make sense that I must have forgotten Dimi’s last game. I almost wish I had.
For The Bagel, it was a day of friends. Bumping into Don’t Jimmy Me Jules (Jimmy Baby, nee Molar, and girlfriend Julie) on the WHL Express was the first boon with a summery my mate Charlie, a Yiddo through and through, dressed almost identically to The Bagel in flip-flops, long navy shorts and shirt, the next to arrive.
It was the hottest day I’ve ever had at the Lane. By no means that hottest in London but then how often does it break 80F while the Prem’s still playing?
The Lane did look beautiful - a carnival atmosphere of the sun-drenched stands and the crowd like Little Hampton beach in the high season, packed, alive and filled with Englishmen ill-bodied and ill-styled in our shorts and shirts; outfits that receive too little attention to look good. Sunglasses or hands covering brows, talk of the rumours, cameras for the last pics of Berbatov and a thousand handmade fans, fashioned from the new kit brochures on every seat as a kindly reminder to spend, spend, spend in three flavours of Lillywhite, blue and black.
What a shame for the football. It’s hard to even write about for its lack of interest or dynamism at all aside two moments from the two striking genii on show. One the goal from nothing around and all too suckered and slow Michael Dawson, the other just a two second flash of inspiration so sad in its absence from all games since February. One touch a game is all we’ve had from the player we’d gladly cut off body parts to see back on form, the man whose heart we wish we could win again. But that 90 minutes showed one second of a flicker of the flame that once burned bright.
It almost makes it easier to let him go, knowing that he’d just play like a shadow until he was happy again; a happiness we cannot yet provide.
The new kit was of more interest than the game until out mood was sucken by another flat display that made you wonder how we won any game at all this season. The socks were what divided opinion, nothing to do with the football. For every person that liked them, another despised.
More when I’ve got a minute….
May 12th, 2008 at 2:41 pm
I hope some more midfielders are on the way over the summer. Jenas was as useless as I’ve seen him. So many misdirected passes and poor choices in his short 45min spell. I thought Steed was brilliant probably more so in defense though.
p.s. The lane most definitely was full with some ill-styled englishmen. Thankfully I don’t fall under that category… Englishman that is.
May 13th, 2008 at 10:17 am
Does anyone know where this Emile Heskey nonsense came from?
When it was one nil to United, a big cheer came from the Liverpool fans, I heard people with radios saying Emile Heskey had scored, but then the next thing I know its 2-0 to united and the spurs fans are all chanting Heskeys name at the Liverpool fans (presumably because they were chanting his name too, though I didn’t hear it). I assumed Heskey must have scored an own goal, but it seems it was completeley dud information. Where from though?
Or am I having Emile Heskey based hallucinations? What a disturbing thought, on several levels.
May 13th, 2008 at 11:05 am
Not sure about that one OOG. From where I was, all I saw were the Scouse fans going crazy then chanting Emile Heskey. I imagined that someone had played a trick on a liverpool fan and it filtered through.
May 13th, 2008 at 11:36 am
Oog,
Following on from our previous discussions on improvement, where do you think thje extra 10 wins will come from when you klose your main striker.
To turn 10 losses into wins takes some doing, and as you know all about the season on season improvement of 6puds perhaps you could enlighten ?
May 13th, 2008 at 1:00 pm
oi oi - you tell me which previous discussions you are referring to that make you think I claim to “know all about the season on season improvement”, and I’ll do my best to answer your query.
If you are referring to the discussion in the blog on 1 February - read what I actually wrote instead of what you want me to have said so that you can create an argument out of nothing!
Forgive me for not answering it straight away, its just that given your track record of putting words into my mouth (thats a euphemism for “lying”) I take anything you say with a very big shovel of salt!
May 13th, 2008 at 1:02 pm
The Heskey thing eminated from some supporters at the front, telling people that Wigan had equalised and it was Heskey who had scored. From the forum discussions I’ve seen they were none too happy about it!
Was a decent game )especially 2nd half from my perspective) from the accounts i’ve read, pity it only got about 5 mins on MOTD but then there were more important games going on…
May 13th, 2008 at 1:05 pm
I mean they were none too happy when it turned out to be untrue, at that point it woudl have been Chelski winning the title, a popular wish among liverpool supporters!
May 13th, 2008 at 1:11 pm
I didn’t think it was that decent a game, red rum, although you absolutely merited it, and its more our fault than yours that it was a bit dull!
I knew it already but seeing Torres in the flesh confirmed that he is obviously very very special. Lots of players have pace, but he has the ability to control the ball at close quarters and get up to full pace without the defender being able to get near him.
May 13th, 2008 at 4:35 pm
The previous discussion I’m referring to would be when you claim 6puds were improving and I claimed they weren’t.
This would be the discussion where you were adamant that there were season by season improvements made by the 6puds squad.
This season’s blip in the aforementioned improvement no doubt causes a slur in your overall 6pud graph, I was just wondering if you had any thoughts about how you could return to your previous improving ways.
Or are you denying making any kind of claims of 6pud season on season improvements ??
May 13th, 2008 at 8:20 pm
More drivle from the slavering gob of oui oui.
May 14th, 2008 at 10:54 am
Are you talking about the blog on 1 February? Have a look at it and tell me if thats what you are talking about.