Beef Bagel

Apologies for not being here today, but I simply haven’t had the time.

After such a big match up, so much drama, but I simply haven’t had the time.

An astounding first half, a fight like lions, the crowd in a voice as one, but I simply haven’t had the time.

The excitement, the good old days of once again sitting next to Jimmy Whiskey, if just for a game, his long deserved first derby, but I simply haven’t had the time.

The nutter in front, almost on my lap throughout the game, the fuming on his standing from the Junior Harpy, her screams and screams and my joy at ignoring her every brattish squawk, but I simply haven’t had the time.

The cheers of the fans, the ‘Come on you Spurs’ before the game, the fight that we continue goes on and on; the Tottenham tops, the Barca shirts, the arsenal scum; a match report forty pages long, but I can only say that I simply haven’t had the time.

Dawson the King, Jermain with a sting, Assou-Ekotto looking a dream, Gardner strong and keeping it clean, Steed with his muddied shirt; ‘I’m sorry mate,’ says the nutter in front, ‘I hope you don’t mind but I tend to get a little passionate at this one,’ and I would have liked to tell you more, but I simply haven’t had the time.

The first went in and we jumped and screamed, we flung ourselves from seat to seat and even a kiss from the nutter in front, a manly kiss, of passionate bliss, no Brokeback Mountain embrace was this; we screamed, we screamed as we lived the dream, one song in White Hart Lane were we; and never before have I not even known that the game had again begun and I want to tell you, I’d love to tell you, but I simply haven’t had the time.

When we finally sat in the blistering cold, at last the mania calmed; my legs again bruised from backs of the seats and God knows whatever they hit; but short were we down and before I could blink we were over in raptures once more; more madness ensued and more hits to my bruise, so, how many more we can score? And all of this I’ve wanted to say, the half that we played, the half we deserved to win, and the pride that we had, the pride of the Lane knowing we’re dangerous, a threat, knowing the game was ours, ‘2-0 to the Eng-ger-land’ but I simply haven’t had the time.

Bagel’s at the half, whiskey in the stands, the scorelines, ‘by how much shall we win?’ How many do we need, a fourth or just three, how many will it take, how many is safe, how many until they have to play their bigger guns? Was I really to see my first derby win? Was it going to be tonight? You could feel the wonder about the ground but I knew in my heart, I didn’t want it to be this way. I wanted to tell you this, I wanted to say that it would’ve been wrong to see my first win like this. One leg won. But no real victory. No joy. No pay off. No burning desire fulfilled. When I watch that game, when we get that win, it’s got to mean more than just hope and I really wanted to tell you this but I simply haven’t had the time.

I wanted to talk of our fans and theirs and the way Bolton are louder then them. Their “hardcore”, their “noise”, their “kids”: Fibreglass, Eboue, Hleb, Baptista, Toure, their opera being over before the skinny paedo sings; our tiring, our backing off and them fighting back like they should; but I wanted to tell how it wouldn’t have mattered whatever the result of that game. A two goal cushion we would have lost, a three goal cushion and they’d be starting their best but with all still to play for and most of all, I so wanted to tell you, I so badly wanted to let you know: never, never to lose heart. I wanted to tell you it’s simple now. One game, one win; a language we all understand. Winner takes all; no margins to protect, no going out there and playing for a draw. We may have lost Berbatov but these games aren’t about ability, these derbies are all in belief. Belief from us, belief from them and the knowledge that one day, one day it will happen. Every Spurs fan knows it and every arsenal fan fears it and I really wanted to be here today and tell you all of this but I simply haven’t had the time.

But one last thing before I go; one more thing to say; one more thing I just want you to know, and then I’ll call it a day. I remember not so long ago, a chant I use to hear, a chant that haunted my every step and I chant I no longer fear. Five words I’ll tell you and don’t take them wrong, just say them together with me; records don’t last and hoodoos do end

“You’ll never beat the Chelsea”

And all this I wanted to tell you, I really, truly wanted to say; I so badly wanted to get out the words, to live to fight another day, and I really wanted to get off the treadmill, to get myself back, to sit myself down, to do what I must, to bring it you, to break it apart, to lift it all up, but well and truly, simply, simply I haven’t had the time.

Come on you Spurs!

The Bagel.

This entry was posted on Friday, January 26th, 2007 at 1:30 am and is filed under Match Reports. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.