I met a veteran Spurs fan – An interesting conversation with Wednesday night in mind | OneFootball

After the exciting victories by “small clubs in the north east of England” on Saturday, I decided to waste four hours on two clubs from the north of London strutting their stuff in televised games on Sunday.

First up were the Woolwich, who would definitely have sent me to the land of Nod if their match against Palace had kicked off at 7.30 rather than 2pm.

Teams from different generations are difficult to compare but, my goodness, the dross served up by Arteta is unwatchable compared with the thrilling style of Wenger’s best years.

The Sky commentary team would never dare suggest such a thing, they have to be on-message 100% of the time when selling the world’s greatest competition, but even they noted more than 30 minutes had been and gone before either team tested the opposing keeper.

Inevitably, the opener (and only goal) stemmed from a dead ball. Munoz stupidly fouled Saka, Rice swung in the free-kick from the right flank and Eze smashed home a spectacular volley when Palace failed to clear their lines. The curse of the ex strikes again.

In terms of entertainment, that was as good as it got. Arsenal passed the ball 540 times: 75 backwards, 152 forwards and, presumably, more than 300 sideways, though BBC stats don’t record that.

I love pass-and-move football as much as anyone. Sadly for all but the most blinkered fans of the club that bribed their way into the top flight 125 years ago and have been boasting of their lofty status ever since, this was less pass-and-move and more, much more, pass-and-go-nowhere. Football is heading to Hell in a handcart with this trend.

Imagine if every Premier League team adopted these ultra safety first tactics. They give “dead ball” a whole new meaning. Those bidding in the next auction of worldwide broadcasting rights should insert a “no entertainment, no fee” clause in the contract, similar to the “no foal, no fee” policy when a stallion visits a mare in the glamorous world of racehorse breeding. RIP, Jilly Cooper.

That’s enough of Arteta and his team of perpetual bridesmaids.

Next up, thanks to those lovely folk at Sky Sports, was Everton v Tottenham from the intriguingly named Hill Dickinson Stadium. Well, I say intriguing, though the explanation is prosaic enough: a commercial law firm founded in Liverpool has paid for long-term naming rights. Seems appropriate, when football is decided by legal eagles as much as by the modern equivalent of the Bald Eagle.

You might have thought the risk-averse garbage served up at the Emirates (ooh, how shocking! A football club jumping into bed with a Middle Eastern nation at the drop of a few billion quid) would have persuaded me to turn off the telly but there was good reason to watch the 4.30 match. Spurs are up next for Eddie and the lads as we defend the League Cup.

Unfortunately for United, the Lilywhites we will face on Wednesday are far removed from the shambolic outfit of last season, when Big Ange, whose moniker refers to his size, rather than his coaching ability, steered them to the dizzy heights of fourth-bottom in the Premier League yet saw them qualify for the Uefa Champions League.

Funnily enough, I met a veteran Spurs fan, a season-ticket holder, at the Amex this month. Never seen him before, will probably never see him again, but we spent an enjoyable 20 minutes watching Forest ensure Big Ange would be joining the ranks of the unemployed pdq. And so it came to pass, only a few minutes after the final whistle of their match against Chelsea.

While Forest were wasting gilt-edged chances and those flash boys from down the Kings Road were burying theirs, I asked my new friend for his verdict on Big Ange. Let’s keep it clean and say merely it was similar to my verdict on Big Sam. The same verdict returned by roughly 99.9% of United’s fans and, indeed, right-thinking followers of football the length and breadth of England.

Anyway, what of events at the Hill Dickinson? Spurs wrecked Everton’s proud stat of not conceding from a set play this season. Then they did it again. Two corners, two goals, both scored by Van de Ven in the first half.

On both occasions, an attacking player obstructed or nudged old T Rex Arms. The ploy was not violent, not blatant, but it was enough to impede the keeper.

Interestingly, little Tommy Tuchel’s No1 declined to protest. The ref saw nothing wrong. VAR likewise.

I can only assume none of the officials has played in goal. The slightest push or shove has a big effect on the keeper’s chances of leaping for the ball. Trust me, as a former shot stopper for Darlington College of Higher Education, I know my onions and my onion bags.

The response to such dark arts is to smash through every body between you and the ball, though that approach was hardly a great success for Oh No Onana, who is now suffering cold turkey on loan to Trabzonspor.

Spurs employed these dirty tricks (pioneered, predictably, by their north London neighbours) at corner kicks to devastating effect. If Wednesday’s match is reffed as leniently, United need to have their wits about them. At least Pope can reach places lesser keepers cannot.

The irony on Sunday was that when Everton tried to do the same as their opponents, this time with two players jostling the keeper, the goal they scored was disallowed. Not because of the foul play but because Grealish was offside. Probably by the circumference of those freakish calves . . .

Vicario made some impressive saves. Either he has improved or my opinion of “dodgy keeper” is misplaced. So much for the voice of experience!

Romero, the team’s South American hothead, missed the match because of injury. His deputy, Danso, played well. I hope Romero is back to face us. He’s a loose cannon, an accident waiting to happen. Not just my view but one endorsed by that Spurs fan at the Amex, who couldn’t understand why he had been made captain.

Of the others, Palhinha and Bentancur formed a formidable twosome in central midfield while Kudus again showed he has exceptional skills. There was little end-product, however, with only four attempts on target. Mind, that was one more than the Woolwich, who are, according to the combined wisdom of the mass media, well on their way to a first title since they ditched old Arsene.

Tottenham will be difficult to break down at St James’ Park. Don’t expect a feast of goals. Progress might be decided by which keeper excels. My money is on Pope, who saves his best for the League Cup.