That's a lot of pain for such a club

Ah Tottenham. We like to make fun of you on these pages. Every once in a while The Likely Lad will show up and try to defend you, but that often just makes it worse. Still, we don't get as mean as we could, because at some point beating a dead horse is not as fun as it used to be.

Today is not one of those days.

Consider yourself duly warned that what we are about to link to is as vile and disgusting as it gets.

From the, well, oddballs at ONTD comes a bevy of images all showing the same thing: shirtless Spurs getting tattoos. You know you are in trouble when the first image of the post is of a pasty and pliable Robbie Keane.

See? Not pretty.

Anyway, there are plenty more on there including one groups shot that shows just how short Aaron Lennon is in real life. Go look. And when you're done with that, I have another treat for you.

That one bloke in every picture seems to be the proprietor of New Wave Tattoos. Betcha didn't know that he has a Myspace page. I didn't either until I clicked the link at the bottom of the post.

Some of the winners from that page.

So, why is Homer Spurson wearing a pink shirt?

You should probably eat a sammich, Craig Bellamy

Male trampstamp, complete with bloody runoff

A Yid? Really?

I don't know what to say

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Tottenham fire goalie coach, not goalie

It's time to dump on Tottenham again, mainly because of their wonderful, calamitous goalkeeper. While Spurs have recalled a keeper out on loan to cover for Heurelho, it's important to know it's not all his fault.

Spurs recognize that too; just this morning they fired their goalkeeping coach, Austrian glove guru Hans Leitert. (By the way, I love that he's a goalkeeping coach and his name is essentially "hands")

Poor lad. Gomes couldn't save Simon Davies' speculative cross/shot, and he couldn't save Hans' job.

After the jump, a Gomes tribute video. Where did that world class keeper disappear to anyway?

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It's Destiny! Spurs Conquer American West!

...and by conquer we mean they've signed on for a tentative "football and commercial development plan" with the San Jose Earthquakes of MLS. Apparently Steve Schmidt and Karl Rove have taken over at the Lane, because this is the lamest attempt to distract an angry/distraught public since "Who is the real Barack Obama?"

Thankfully, the English media still has a bit of its bollocks left. Like that Ma 'n' Pa outfit at Sky Sports News:

The Earthquakes will benefit from the training and coaching models of Tottenham, who currently sit bottom of the Premier League.

Great, I'd nearly forgotten. The real reason Spurs made this deal... after the jump.


Spurs statement:

"The agreement will focus on football and commercial development that will see the implementation of a best practice exchange programme, with the objective of creating a lasting bond between the two clubs."

"This agreement with San Jose Earthquakes will provide us with an excellent opportunity to access a key region in a global market,'' said Spurs executive director Paul Barber.

"As a club we are continually looking for innovative ways to evolve and our partnership with the Earthquakes will enable us to market Tottenham to a wider audience.

"We already have a fan base within the state of California and the opportunity to grow the brand in the US is very appealing."

YADA YADA. We all know the real reason...



Spurs are angling for another winger! Bigus says this could never happen, as Mr. Darren Huckerby would never return to England for fear of any untoward encounter with yellow-shirted man, woman, child, beast, or beast-child. Likely says: As long as he sits out the cup ties, this will never be an issue.

And cue the lame jokes! (ooh, they've already begun...)

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Dispatches from the Relegation Zone: SPURS edition

You're traveling through another dimension -- a dimension not only of sight and sound but of scoreless draws. A journey into a wasteland whose boundaries are that of Blackpool and Barnsley. That's a signpost up ahead: your next stop: the Relegation Zone!

It's really pretty simple when you think about it... stew on it... sweat it over... and wretch on the details. You take an average club, sell off its two best players-- the top two strikers and most creative men on the field-- and results are going to suffer. Who wouldn't see this coming? What kind of magical thinker could convince himself that moves like these wouldn't have a negative effect on the balance of his team?

Balance? The idea of it is at best a bitter abstraction at times like these-- sitting in last fuckin' place after more than a month of games. For Spurs, for the 2008-2009 Tottenham team, the time for concepts and theories and tactics is over.

There was a point in last friday's Obama-McCain debate when the candidates got into a brief exchange over the difference between a "strategy" and a "tactic." The twitching mongoloid from Arizona told 50 million viewers that his opponent didn't understand the difference. Obama insisted he did, and that McCain's beloved "surge" was indeed a mere "tactic," and certainly not a design for life.

War-Sport anologies may be trite, but so am I and so for that matter is this debacle of a football season. That said, let's jump right in. Juande Ramos is very clever tactician, with the exception of some curious work at Pompey this weekend, he usually brings on the right players, tactically speaking, at the right time. And to his credit, the moves get made on the hour and earlier, giving the sub time to work his way into the game. Where Ramos, the field general, and the chain of command have failed this season is in defining anything that could be remotely confused with a "strategy" for success.

Results come and go. Few humanoid teams in the past decade (well, maybe Martin Jol's Spurs... ugh) have put together more than a season or two of sustained winning; placing in the top 10; competing deep into cup competitions; nicking at the heels of a Big Four straggler. Lack of funds, the manager merry-go-round, and the general emotional instability of fans, players, and owners are usually to blame. It's hard to develop a team when its very DNA is called into question after a bad afternoon in August. But it is even more difficult, perhaps impossible, to do so when there is no understanding among the "brain trust" that one summer, or three players, or a new diet plan does not ensure continued quality. Results come and go. Quality is sustainable.


Shit. Football.

For Tottenham, beloved by us and ours for oftentimes shambolic displays of attacking and defenseless football, the latest tease began with the thievery of Ramos from Spain. The Sevilla man had a reputation for injecting his style into a side. The roster would surely turn over a bit from Year One to Two, but a "strategy" was now in place. Get "Ramos guys"-- big strikers, attacking fullbacks, a speedy winger-- and the program would take over. (Cue Rick Pitino: "See that door?? Dani Alves is not coming through that door!")

When there is a strategy and the players are purchased in accordance to its themes, the tactics become simple. They are written into the roster. But what has become more evident everytime this year's team steps on to the pitch is that they remain a slave to tactics. Matchups are assessed. Reaction is the rule. There is no best XI at White Hart Lane this season, just a team du jour. And no matter how clever the angles, it has been the same result. Adjust. Tinker. Rarely has this team played its own game, imposed their style (attacking? remember?) on the opponent. And on those few occasions, always the same problem. No one here can score a goal.


Pavlyuchenko scores in London! Presumably these two gave him plenty of time on the ball...



It really is remarkable... life here in the Relegation Zone. Six games played. Zero wins. Four Losses and two draws. In those six matches not A SINGLE legitimate goal. You know, goals! Like when a full back makes a run, drops the ball off to a midfield player who boots an inswinging cross into the box, where a striker awaits to level home on the half-volley. That's how teams score goals, I'm told.

Spurs, bottom of the barrel, have netted four this season, just three directed in by a carcass in a white shirt. There was the own-goal from David Wheater at Middlesbrough, the heinous giveaway by the Chelsea defense that set up Bent at the Bridge, Jenas closing his eyes and sticking his toe out at home to Sunderland, and the deflection off Bent's knee (he was looking off into space) in garbage time against Villa.

Oh, how far off this is...

Could this whole mess turn around with a good result next weekend? Maybe. Maybe Bent starts scoring some. Maybe David Bentley plays like the England player he's stopped ploclaiming himself to be. And maybe McCain staffers lose track of Sarah Palin at a Toys'R'Us and she gets devoured two limbs at a time by a pack of vengeful moose. Maybe...

A more Likely plan-- back to Spurs again-- is to stop and reassess. It may be early, but that's precisely the time when it gets late these days. Autumn is here and fleeting and Winter is sooner than we'd imagine. The days will be short real soon. So now is the time to confront reality. Tottenham is in a releation battle and should treat it as such. It is again, ironically as if it needed saying, the time for "tactics." That means fuck off with the UEFA Cup, and Carling and FA Cups. Move up. Stay alive. Score a goal.

The season starts now.

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Belated UEFA Cup thread

Does anyone watch Little Cup?

A ton of the matches have already concluded, probably due to being played in countries so tiny and scattered that they have their own provincial timezones. However, it's not over just yet!

Everton v. Standard Liege just kicked off, as did Spurs at home to Wizla Krakow, which should be fun as they're missing new signings Pavlyuchenko and Corluka (both cup-tied... good transfers, then), and Modric who already has a knee injury.

Starting XIs and the rest of the scores after the jump.

Get ready for some bad news, all you Omonia Nicosia fans...



Everton 1 Yakubu 23"
Standard Liege 1 Mbokani 9"
(kick-off 3.05pm ET)

Everton: Howard, Neville, Yobo, Jagielka, Lescott, Anichebe, Castillo, Osman, Arteta, Cahill, Yakubu.

Subs: Nash, Baines, Vaughan, Nuno Valente, Jutkiewicz, Baxter, Rodwell.

Standard Liege: Aragon, Camozzato, Onyewu, Sarr, Dante, Dalmat, Jovanovic, Defour, Witsel, De Camargo, Mbokani.

Subs: Devriendt, Goreux, Toama, Mikulic, Nicaise, Ingrao, Gonzalez.

Spurs 0, Wisla Krakow 0
(kick-off 3.10pm ET)

Tottenham: Gomes, Gunter, Woodgate, King, Bale, Bentley, Jenas, Zokora, Lennon, Giovani, Bent.

Subs: Cesar, Huddlestone,Gilberto, Campbell, Dawson, O' Hara, Assou-Ekotto.

Wisla Krakow: Pawelek, Singlar, Baszczynski, Cleber, Diaz, Boguski, Sobolewski, Cantoro, Zienczuk, Pawel Brozek, Jirsak.

Subs: Juszczyk, Guedes Filho, Glowacki, Niedzielan, Malecki, Lobodzinski, Barreto.


EARLIER SCORES
-----
AS Nancy 1 Berenguer 42"
Motherwell 0

Litex Lovech 1 Popov 10"
Aston Villa 3 Reo-Coker 45+1", Barry 72" (pen), Petrov 90+2"

Portsmouth 2 Diarra 39", Defoe 60"
Guimaraes 0

Omonia Nicosia 1 Duro 49"
Manchester City 2 Jo 59", 72"

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Should Have Just Told Him To Stay Away From The Merseyside

Roman Pavlyuchenko was one of Spurs many big money signings this offseason. Although, he was second-choice after Andrei Arshavin. The last second 14 million pound Russian striker hasn't made his White Hart Lane debut yet, but at least his former teammates have warned him of the dangers of North London. Former Spurs Russian target man filled Roman in on all the nitty gritty details, or so says The Sun:

Rebrov, an £11million flop in 2000, warned new boy Pavlyuchenko: “A lot of dark-skinned people live there so naturally the crime rate is higher than elsewhere.

“It’s not nice to be a robbery victim so I suggest he doesn’t walk but drives around there.”

Given the events involving Robbie Keane this past weekend, Rebrov should have told Pavlyuchenko to watch out for permed Scousers.

I much prefer stereotypes based on repeated events like Scousers robbing their football players rather than baseless stereotypes based on skin color. Except for those dirty thieving purpleskins.

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Gone Baby Gone

When I began to write this on Tuesday morning, just hours after Dimitar Berbatov was unshackled and unveiled as the newest slave on Colonel Ferguson's Old Trafford Plantation, the plan was to slice up the sulky Bulgarian and feed his limbs to the woodchipper. I was insane, combing the Yellow Pages for a Zoroastrian (preferably named "Vilma") to ritualistically shave my testicles.

But with time and the first few chapters of "The Joke" now having stewed around my head a bit, the gauntlet has been retrieved. The daggers, sheathed. I'm still going to have to buy a new Spurs shirt. Please, Dimi, $70 payable to The Likely Lad. The rage though, has passed. Berbatov was never staying at White Hart Lane. To have sold him at such an inflated rate-- and to bring in Young Campbell too-- is victory, however Pyhrric, for the club and its fans.

As first noted by PavlyuBent (nee BerbaKeane, nee BerbaBent), the credit in the outcome of this miserable, prolonged drama, goes largely to Those Batshit Arabs (TBA) who purchased Manchester City. Daniel Levy had no choice but to sell Berbatov by the transfer deadline and everyone knew it. By Monday morning, as Colonel Ferguson rose from his alcoholic stupor, there was no chance a club bidding against itself was going to pay Spurs' asking price. But in came TBA, always there to bail us silly Jews out of our silly Jewish messes, and their Citeh caper. Fourty-eight hours later Berbatov is, for no less than 30.75m, property of the second largest club in Manchester.

I'm a Spurs supporter. My heart is full and my life is one piece. There is joy (little "j") and pain and they can co-exist. But there are no tears. Not for this guy. Losing players is a part of this sport more so than any other. Football, as much as I love it, is still new to me. That, along with so many years of rooting for shitty-but-rich New York teams (Mets, Jets, Rangers), has made the process-- and the process is as bad if not worse than the fact-- of losing such a talented player that much more galling.

Berbatov signed from Leverkusen in the summer of 2006 with average expectations. But he was magic from the start. For six brilliant months it was flick-ons, dummies, step-overs and goals. Loads of goals, even if the highlight reel shows a lot of Middlesbrough and Slavia Prague.

The crack-up, the kind "you don't feel until it's too late to do anything about," came in the Spring of '07. Just one season at the Lane (and as noted, just six months before the chatter began) and it was clear that this was not a long term arrangement. In that regard, Monday's move was an anti-climax. This deal was done more than a year ago.

Football is fleeting, and especially so for the footballers. Berbatov is 27 years old. Health-permitting he has three or four more years to pad his fag fund. Staying at Tottenham, he would never have entered the Nou Camp as anything better than a paying customer. Ambition is not Dimitar Berbatov's sin.

It was his behavior, on-field and off, in concert with the agent Dantchev-- whom I imagine to look like Borat's producer-- that makes Berbatov such a disdainful character. Barry Bonds never played for the Mets, so I don't know how a Giants fan rationalized rooting for him. But it couldn't have come from a much different place than allowed me to pull on a Berbatov shirt every weekend. His sulky gait, the rolling of the eyes, the pleading arms-- it wore on for so long that now, a couple days after his departure, the only emotion is relief.

The team may hurt for goals this season, but come success or failure, there'll be nothing owed, no moral promissory note on my fandom. The Spurs players now at Tottenham are there because they believe in the manager, their system, and better-than-average Premier League wages. No illusions here about how fragile that peace may be, but for today at least, I can like my football team again.

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Completely Irrational, Rambling Spurs Screed

"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

-Famous Jew

Where to begin? It's hard to see straight with these tears in my eyes. Or speak, what with the snot oozing down my philtrum and choking my tongue. Whining, crying losers we are. And for what?

New players, same shitty results. New players, same breakdowns. Unable to cope with a ball in the air-- in either box. New players, same game. (Every Spurs fan on earth and the seven suns knew Cisse was going to score--with his noxious noggin-- at some point in those last ten minutes.)

Stick with a team long enough and you develop a bit of telepathy. It goes like: "I'll be shocked if he doesn't give up a double here"... "Pick to the house. I know it"... or "Power play? Why even bother?" With Tottenham it's easy. No magic powers required. Unless it's against Chelsea at Wembley ( let me cling, please…), the defense will suffer a collective brain fart at some crucial point late in the second half. It's nothing to do with the personnel on the field, it's about, like Seinfeld said, "the laundry." And no one is more prone to spoiling their whites than Tottenham.

It was supposed to be different with Juande Ramos. And not just because the pundits said so. We saw it-- for a moment I swear I saw it (Yetti!!)

Juande, your job is safe. For the whole year. So no talk about that. Let's talk about team selection. What did 150 years of football not tell us about playing right-footed players on the left, and left-footed players on the right? Do we have so little confidence in the striker from Charlton that Bentley's crosses, from the right, have been mooted and he is only useful on the left as a two-touch-and-blast-man?

Line Bentley up on the right, sit Lennon on the bench, and start Giovani up on the left. Bale is a winger, not a full back. The defense is not strong enough to carry his weight. Zokora is a central defender or midfield player. Please stop playing him at right back.

Now here's where I may surprise you. I say The Mister gets a pass on the Berbatov debacle. That was and is (and remains!) Levy's mess. It existed well before Ramos got here and judging by the pace of business these days, may well exist after he leaves. Sell that filthy beggar for 25 or 28 or 30 million, whatever. Just be done with it. Buy the crazy Colombian kid from River. Or overpay for Forlan or Huntelaar or any striker who will agree to move to London. It doesn't matter. It is the essence of addition by subtraction.

Ok. Deflating...

Lucy! I'm ready to kick again.

Just one win. Three points at Chelsea. Two awful streaks end at once. The world alight again. Wonders are many.

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EPL Preview: Spurs are on their way to... where?!?

Real Low: Feel that! "My cheek has got so cold!"

[- apologies to Rimbaud]


I choose to be romantic about my club even when reason says "no." If Liverpool is a pitiful Friday night tug session, then Spurs are fleeting, miracle intimacy... but never enough. The Tease. Never enough goals. Never enough possession. Never an assertive defense or aggressive keeper.

They are lilywhite and deep navy, and mansion dot com poker and casino. They are powder blue and collars, and some overwrought, like a tattoo, Asian lettering.

There is always something wrong. And yet, who would you rather watch walk the tightrope? Who would you rather see rise up over Chelsea (like Woodgate's nose) or disappear with the flushed diarrhea water (splayed forth from a diseased Carrick's arse) as the Scum re-appear in the Champs League?



Outside of the Big Four and any larger conversation about what football should or could be (or used to be and should be again), there is no club who breeds more aggression (in our little world at least) than Tottenham. They are both a feeder club and mad spenders. Poll our readers and just as many would have Spurs as the new Leeds as an English Sevilla.

You've Lost Keane! Screaming always... Berbatov is gone (either to Man U. or out for a smoke)! Modric is paper mache and Gio is Mexican!

Well yes, Keane is gone (and for no small fee), but Berba is here for now (and will only be leaving for no small fee, cigs not withstanding). Modric is flesh and blood (may they stay warm and flowing inside the skin!) and for shite's sake, look it up, Dos Santos is Brazilian-born. So let's get our facts straight before the start. There's cause for pause for concern, but just as much reason-- reasonably-- to be excited.

---
BREATHE! We begin at the back. Spiderman. I'll say this for Heurelho Gomes: the fucker has that positive energy. Forgetting even for a moment that he is a prime shot-stopper and attacker of the ball, the Brazilian's enthusiasm alone distinguishes him from his predecessor.

Is he a reaction rather than a solution? Time, and not a match or two or three, will tell the story. But for now, the keeper as first man, happy warrior, is pure oxygen. Robinson was never bad for us, at least not until the dying days, but even at his best his face was written with the map of England. That is, the tension, the focus, the sound and the fucking fury and all that nothingness that is precisely what a keeper cannot carry on his shoulders if he is to fly above and punch that spinning corner 40 yards into the noontime breeze.

"Stop thinking, you're hurting the ballclub," they told Jim Bouton, as he recalled it in "Ball Four." This is not to say Gomes is less intelligent than Robinson, but I don't think that thinking will get in man’s way. So if set-pieces and long-range efforts-- terrible enemies to a timid keeper-- were Spurs' weak point last season [Ed. Note: they had plenty more weak points than that], then the Brazilian should offer a considerable upgrade.

---
PUSH! Where the Spurs defense stands will be largely to do with where they’re standing. Too often in the past two seasons they’ve made near permanent residence inside the 18-yard box. On your heels and without the best talent: now that is a dangerous proposition. The inclination in a tentative defense is to drift back, to protect, and with midfielders gone missing, a No-Man’s-Land worthy of The Great War opens up atop the box.

Everyone from United’s Nani to Blackburn’s Samba fired potshots from this space last season, and even with a more confident keeper the defense will count on the Zokora/Huddlestone/Jenas triumvirate to close up the gap. Spurs of ’07-’08 conceded more “wonder goals” than any team in history, I’d gamble, and it was little surprise.

There exists, on this date at least, true confidence in Spurs’ talent in the back four. It is Health and Depth that are, as they are for all teams not called United and Chelsea, the big issues. A starting line of King and Woodgate in the middle, with fullbacks Hutton and Bale is good enough to compete with anyone.

Figure Dawson and Zokora as cover for the central defense and Gunter, Assou-Eketto (who impressed before a terrible injury in ’06), Gilberto, and maybe, possibly Vedran Corluka as subs and occasional starters — a necessity with four competitions to play — and there looks to be some grit and speed, though maybe not in that order.

What impresses most is how Ramos has in so little time brought in and utilized so many players in such a variety roles. There are dozens of permutations of this defense, more even once you factor in O’Hara and Huddlestone. I can hardly dream up a game situation to which the mister can’t adapt when he has his guys in form and fitness. As we learned last year, Ramos will play anyone anywhere.

---
RUN! And that innovative mind will be called into immediate action when it comes time to arrange the midfield for this Saturday's Starting XI. For the moment, let’s assume Berbatov is gone or not playing. That Bent is alone up front. This means Ramos is playing a 4-5-1.

The Likely Lad was scarred last year, so he desperately wants some sort of holding... err, defensive midfielder in the fold. We all know Zokora’s deficiencies, but why not sit him up in front of the central defense and ask him to tackle and make a simple, first pass? With the talent around him, Zokora can be Trent Dilfer: no bad giveaways, safe-minded, rid of the ball. Around him can swirl the madness. Dump it off Didier!***

With so much still unsettled as far as the final roster, much of what follows is speculative. For that matter, a lot of what you’ve just read is remote management. Juande is a football paella chef; you never know exactly what you’re going to find in the pot. I do think it’s fair to say the Middlesborough game will begin with Bentley on the right, Modric in the middle... somewhere in the middle, perhaps off to the left?

What the Lad would like to see is Modric at the top of a diamond that has Zokora at the back, Jenas in the middle and Giovanni off left.

---
WIN! If the pre-season is any indication (and of course, it’s not), this is a lineup that will score goals. There are simply too many players capable of individual brilliance to think that one or two won’t break off something sublime once or twice in 90 minutes. If they establish a flow, a rhythm, a dependable pure striker — is it you Darren? Fabio’s watching now, son, you are so close to it! — a confidence to belie their youth, then God of the Hebrews' knows what!

Down a goal? Bring on Lennon. Up one and call for O’Hara. No luck with the little guys up front? Draft in Huddlestone and pierce the defense with his 60-yard precision-guided daisy cutters. This is a side that can play both Pitter Patter and Hoofy.

Contributions from Pekhart, the young Czech striker, Bostock, still so young, should not be discounted either. Who knew Jamie O’Hara was alive before Ramos rode into town. (I did, but that was the extent of it. Alive...)

So, as much as ever before, there is the potential… the promise of not just winning, but that Audere est Facere. This squad, as constructed, is certainly a dare. We can only hope the truth doesn’t stray too far from that dream.

Let the defense and midfield close the gap at 25 yards... let the keeper be brave and bouncy. Bless the men with the skinny legs, may they shimmer and dance, then drive forward with options...

And Fuck Arsenal. Their pederast manager too.

Predictions: 4th place ahead of the Scum. FA Cup Winners. UEFA Cup semifinal.


"Football season, at last!"


***The Likely Lad doesn't really believe in this whole Zokora scheme, but he's feeling very emotional today.

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David Bentley Will Be a Big Star...

...as long as Pekhart (seen leering in the background) doesn't kill him first.


Quoteth BBC:

Bentley sealed the win for Juande Ramos' team when Gareth Bale raced down the left flank, cut inside and his cross eventually found its way to Bentley for the easiest of finishes.

The preseason is the preseason is the preseason, as the saying goes. But there's nothing in the sentence above that I wouldn't mind reading over and again for the next ten months... or ten years if you'd allow me a midsummer's day dream. (To have Bale back and healthy-- for the moment-- is a dream. He is big, with pace and a clever left foot that makes one (me) think dirty thoughts.)

But the focus here is David Bentley and what he brings to this Spurs side. We all know he can whip in a cross; and that he may be the heir apparent to old Goldenballs on the right side of the England midfield; and that yes, he may be a bit much at times.

But this year, with this team, he is precisely what the doctor ordered.

The proverbial Boyhood Dream Move can cut both ways, a lesson us forlorn yiddos were taught in brutal fashion this week. It was Off with Robbie and on with The Bentley Era in the space of three days. And you know what, I've already convinced myself that it's all for the best. So let there be no doubt, whomever wears the band, this club flies or dies with David Bentley.

The 23-year-old was not 24 hours a Spurs man before proclaiming that his "heart is at Tottenham." It was a kind thing to say, whether or not you believe him. What's important though is that his locker is at Tottenham, and will be for at least the next five seasons. That Bentley came up through the Arsenal youth system is rubbish for the tabloids to feast on, and maybe even enough to earn him a few Ribbits when he arrives at the Emirates. What I'm feasting on today though, is the attitude. Finally a player who will speak up. Who will provoke. Who might complain. And not with his agent's tongue. Bentley brings some juice to a team that, for all its insistence on "young, English talent," has played with the collective demeanor of an old Italian club since Edgard Davids left the mix.

"It's all there for us," Bentley said yesterday morning.

Fuck yea, it is! (Even if it isn't...)

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Spurs move too quickly for some

Big ups to Bigus for spotting this gem on OnionBag.com, a site that was clearly so confident in their ad campaign that they probably kept the TV off all day yesterday. Oops.

"Memories... like the shadows of my mind..."

On their site, they're still trying to flog 2008/09 Everton shirts with Johnson on the back, along with a big reduction on the neon yellow Lampard Chelsea shirts. (Do they know something we don't?)

However, after the jump, some proof that Robbie Keane is not as perfect as I would love to believe. His singing is worse than Voronin's finishing in front of goal.

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Bucket of Gold 1, Rainbow 0

DON'T LOOK BACK

The deed is done. Tottenham's de facto skipper is off to Anfield after six stellar years at the Lane. It is a bitter day for us Spurs types. Guys like Berbatov are always on their way out, but Robbie Keane had become a club fixture, someone I truly believed would finish up in North London... the testimonial, the whole business. Silly boy I am. The feelings are hard, but I don't wish Keano any gruesome injury or disease. Failure, yes, but nothing like a degenerative knee condition or late onset asthma. And certainly not Jermaine Pennant.

For more on why I'm not angry please follow the jump.


You know Robbie, if you wanted a Liverpool tracksuit so frickin’ badly, I’m sure Mr. Levy would’ve gone out and fetched you one from the Adidas outlet. But there was more to it than that, I'd guess. Boyhood dreams— those lazy afternoons in the potato fields, with nothing but a picture of Kenny Dalglish and tin of Vaseline— and the £80,000 per week. The cash must have played at least a bit role in this loathesome affair? Kind of like Chris Cooper in "Adaptation." And lest we forget The Champions League Football, oh how you aging stars love the “the promise of Champions League football.”

As a Spurs fan, and UF’s singular pillar of Yiddo pride (though drawing strength from BerbaBent), I’m not gonna dooooo, what you all thiiiink I’m gonna do, which is, you know… FLIP OUT! No, I’m being quite clear-eyed, open-minded, and level-fucking-headed about this turn of events. Keano is gone, along with his hundred goals and all the boxing man bullshit. It’d be a waste to dwell on the purely sentimental, ya know, my personal shit— our near simultaneous arrival at White Hart Lane (He came over from Leeds in the summer of 2002. I had been there in heart and mind since the summer before.)

I liked Keane then, and did until a couple weeks ago, for a pretty childish reason. He scored goals. Yes, Gooners, this is something that some of us neanderthals still enjoy. In fact, I enjoyed Keane’s time at Spurs entirely because he scored goals. That is the point of the game after all. We all like a nice kick-around and some nifty footwork and passing, but in the end it’s about the goals. Ronaldo (fat and soon-to-be-fat), Beckham, Romario, Maradona, Pele, Chinaglia (forgive me), Best— all players with wide-ranging, breathtaking skill, but sharing a common thread. They put the ball in the net. This makes fans happy. Simple. Sentimental.

Keane’s a goal-poacher, as the saying goes, unfit to lick clean the boots of those guys listed above, but he can play a bit too. No wing force, as some Redheads would like to believe, but he’s got guile and some pace, enough at least to run Khalid Boularouz out of England. I expect he’ll be 60 percent the player Liverpool is expecting unless they get some support out wide. Robbie will be dreaming of Aaron Lennon after a couple months of Jermaine Pennant.

For the Juande and the Lads up the Lane, this is no shock and should not be treated as such. If Berbatov slithers off as expected, Spurs will be minus a vicious strike-force, but plus a fair sum of sterling. How that money gets spent will be the final chapter in this frustrating, but still unfinished course of events. The nattering nabobs on this blog promise me the cash will be splayed about with abandon. Panic spending (Pavlyuchenko!) More 5’7” wingers! It concerns me, no doubt. This team needs two strikers (to go with Bent, who will have his chance) another, bigger midfield player (Bentley, which should happen), and some defensive cover.

So as I told Lingering last night, with only the slightest bit of hyperbole, the Mona Lisa wasn’t shit until Da Vinci got around to those eyes and that smile. Hopefully Juande and Levy have some colors left on the board.

And a final note to you Scouser punks, as The Wolf might say: best not start sucking each other’s dicks quite yet, gentleman. There’s only ooooone Jermaine Pennant— and after that, not much else.

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FA Cup of British Rock / Round of 16 - Match #8

Again... the ground rules: 16 teams, each represented by a musician or band who happens to be a supporter. You, our fair reader, vote on who advances. Use whatever criteria you wish: favorite team, favorite band, prettiest faces (sorry, Pete) etc. Ballot stuffing is not encouraged, but will be tolerated, because we’re just as corrupt as the real FA. Voting for the Round of Sixteen will close on Sunday, July 20.

Today concludes the first round, but remember that you can keep voting on all of the matches until Sunday... at which point we'll announce the winners and get ready for the quarterfinal draw!

Today’s contestants are:

The founders of "Rockney," they're as diverse, clever and fun as the club they so vocally support-- and occasionally as frustrating and stupid... the team is Tottenham and their representatives at the 2008 FA Cup of British Rock are Chas 'n' Dave! Rabbit on! (note: after tense eleventh-hour negotiations, Jeff Beck ceded his spot in the team. He is content with his place as most underrated former Yardbird and thought it was time for C & D to get their props.)


-versus

A man who names ol' Chas 'n' Dave as one of his inspirations, but has himself done more to re-invent British rock than any other individual since the days of Cool Brittania. Drug addict? Yes. Publicity whore? Of course. He's Pete Doherty, the crackerjack poetic mind behind the Libertines and Babyshambles, and a boyhood QPR fan... even starting a fanzine about the club as a kid.


Make your voice heard and clicks count, after the jump...




The Likely Lad, his biases cancelled out here as Spurs and the Libertines, within their respective spheres, carry a heavy weight, will spare you dear reader the pain of my amateur analysis.

Doherty and C&D are both very cool, but for very different reasons. That the twang and wit of the older duo were studied and enjoyed so much by a young Pete is certainly worth noting. So too is the fact that the Libertines created something so simply their own, so honest and fun-- a true monument to the fleeting magic of great pop music.

Enough from me then... let's go to the videotape.

Chas 'n' Dave, with Spurs, on their way to Wembley:




and Pete, w/ Carl and the lads:




Alas, have your say. You can't go wrong (or right)...

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Transfer Market Irritations

Thanks to the idiot press back home, the papers are flooded with every possible transfer rumour under the sun. Every day, we get more news about so-and-so to Big Club FC, or the aging hero meekly accepting a small-ball bid to move to a small-town franchise. Even Jesus Christ himself is on the move, leaving heaven to ply his trade at FC Porto on a 2-year deal.

Bad jokes aside, there are a few players whose names are appearing far too much, and it has to stop. At this point, all quality and calibre aside, I couldn't care less where they play next year as their sagas have become so protracted that you just wish the season began tomorrow and that we could enjoy 3 months with silence on the transfer front.

So who are these oiks that are overpopulating the world's sports pages with will-they, won't-they?

5. Anything involving Spurs

Yep, I'm sick of all the rumours involving Spurs. I could single out just one -- the Berbatov-to-Man U break, the Robbie Keane-to-Liverpool story, or how they've chased several players of interest, only to have them all publicly say they're not interested.

Rafael van der Vaart said he'd rather stay in Hamburg (which speaks volumes, really), Capel wasn't interested either, they were never in with a sniff of Podolski, but they're labouring on. Granted, they have made big signings of Modric and Geovanni, but honestly, they're being linked with just about anyone and everyone at the moment, and it's torturous to digest.

Bentley is the latest apple of their eye, and meanwhile, we sit and sigh, waiting for August.

4. Emmanuel Adebayor

Another one I'm sick of. The constant flirtation between his manager and AC Milan is becoming so indecent, it could almost be considered pornographic and unsuitable for consumption.

There's also Adebayor's wonderful gift for PR, whereby he said publicly that he wants to remain at Arsenal during a press conference, only to go backstage and tell a Sky Sports employee that he's looking at all options including a dream trip to Milan.

June 27th:

"Of course [I'm staying put], I have three more years contract so, no matter what, I have to stay. I’m staying at Arsenal."

Then, later on June 27th:

"I have a lot of big clubs trying to buy me and it is up to me and my agent, Stephane Courbis, to sit down next week and find a good solution. I am in a position that I don't know where I will be playing but that is normal. If you told me seven years ago when I was playing in Togo without football boots that I would have a choice of playing in Spain or Italy it would seem crazy."

You can't teach media management like that.

The broth is soured further by the constant fluctuation of his value, with his price ranging from 15 to 25 million and all points in-between, not to mention his club that's looking to offload more dead weight than the two numbskulls in Weekend at Bernie's.

The Togolese striker will make a club very happy indeed; it just remains to be seen exactly which one.

3. Ronaldinho

The bucktoothed Brazilian should really be higher on the list, but the homeland contempt brewing in the top 2 spots has consigned him to third, which is coincidentally a position in the league that his hungriest suitors, Manchester City, could never dream of achieving.

We've seen pictures of fat Ronnie all over the web, and yet Trashcan Sinatra is still wetting himself over the prospect of hooking the long-haired midfielder to come play at Eastlands. The price seems high, and pundits are advising teams to look elsewhere, but he's still a marketable name, and that means everything nowadays.

In addition to Man City, there's always AC Milan, who crop up so frequently in transfer rumours that I might dub them the Italian Tottenham due to their predilection for hijacking or voicing interest in any player that is for sale.

Please, make it end. Ronnie's agent needs to be Old Yeller'd, lest we go insane with all the noise.

2. Gareth Barry.

Of course he's on the list! Was there any doubt? The saga (that I detailed last week as best I could) is bordering on Monty Python-esque farce as neither Liverpool nor Villa show any signs of being able to compromise. Today's fresh coat of paint came in the form of Arsenal, who apparently expressed interest to O'Neill, who promptly then told The Sun in the hopes of scaring open the Anfield pursestrings.

Savvy on his part, yes, but entirely boring for the rest of us. Barry's fate is essentially sealed away from Villa Park due to his comments in the media about wanting better football (and I'm still not convinced that my Reds could even give him that), but the question remains as to where he'll end up.

There is an inevitability about a move to Anfield eventually being ironed out, but it would be magic if this could happen soon. It might spare us all the added grief of the merry-go-round.

1. Cristiano Ronaldo.

At last, something he'll finish first in on his own merits! Despite roundly failing at Euro '08, he enjoyed the spotlight that Spain should have had by stringing the media on for two straight weeks with veiled comments and entendres that whipped the writers into a fucking agonizing frenzy. Talk of Real Madrid being a dream move immediately woke Calderon from his coke-and-sunshine binge, and the world hasn't been the same since.

The petulant one is facing a three-month layoff after some ankle surgery, but it hasn't dampened the speculation much.

For the love of all that is holy, I wish it had.

---
Am I missing any? Other candidates for most annoying transfer talk?

Read more on "Transfer Market Irritations"...

Starving at The Emirates

This picture must be at least 3+ years old.

Summer workouts may be just a couple days old, but Arsenal's Pranging Pederast of a manager is already in Boxing Day form.

He was telling anyone who would listen this weekend that stadium debt amassed during the construction of the Emirates will force Arsenal to sell their best players every off-season for the next two decades.

The club is paying off a £24 million per year mortgage on their 80,000 seat corporate bowl.

Choice Arsenisms after the jump...

These comments were all reported across numerous media platform:

Mr. Wenger, the floor is yours...

“If they are bad ones, they stay and, if they are good, they think only of leaving.”

"The strategy of the club is to sell every year and to buy less expensive players."

"We manage at Arsenal to maintain all our football ambitions - national and European - while having to free up - for 17 more years - an annual surplus of £24m to pay for our stadium."

"The club's strategy is to favour the policy of youngsters ahead of stars and to count on the collective quality of our game."

“If I had the power to change anything basic in football, it would be the transfer system which makes mercenaries of players.”

And an old classic, from after that game:

from Jan. 22, 2008:

"The score is very brutal, but doesn't reflect what I've seen on the pitch... The first shot on goal was a goal. The second was an own goal. The third was straight after half-time... After that, the game was over and they could focus on defending well and catching us on the break. I don't give too much meaning to the scoreline."

Instant Classic.

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Spurs thank their lucky stars

A fairly innocuous Associated Press puff piece on Hank Steinbrenner this weekend yielded very little in the way of things worth reading, except for a small paragraph or two tossed in towards the end.

Hank, 50, the de facto boss of the Yankees, played soccer at Central Methodist and coached for a while at Ocala Vanguard High, and revealed to the AP that they would love to purchase a soccer team.

From the article:

In the early 1990s, the Yankees were approached to buy a 33 percent interest in England's Tottenham Hotspur for about $32 million. New York passed, a decision Hank regrets.

Fuuuuuuuck me. To think that Spurs, the team of Mabbutt, Gazza and Lineker could have been slowly pulled under the clean-shaven, short-back-and-sides regime of the Yankees... imagine how different that club would be now.

He went on to say that he'd still be interested in Spurs or, incredibly, Notts Forest, if the price was right.

All joking aside, the Steinbrenners are fairly good businessmen, despite the cash cow spending of the Yanks in recent years. They couldn't care less about another American franchise in any of the major sports, but soccer is the apple of their eye from here on out.

Malcolm Glazer's purchase of the Red Devils has opened the floodgates for serious American and foreign investment, and I suppose now that fat Hank is on the trail, the lid's truly blown off the EPL as a place to store some money.

Just imagine.... Spurs under Yankee ownership. Fuck. They'd be worse than Man U, QPR, Chelsea and Liverpool combined.

At least Ronaldinho would know that once he begins his sharp decline in talent, Tottenham would buy him for 40 million pounds.

Read more on "Spurs thank their lucky stars"...

Dickstomp.

[Cheers to Bigus Dickus for the snapshot]

The "Dickstomp".

It's an especially sweet, humiliating form of torture, one that longtime Arsenal fan and Deadspin writer David Hirshey has enjoyed dishing out to the EPL rank-and-file for some time now.

In Tottenham's case, they've been dickstomped enough to be reclassified as being positively female, their genitals now a pallid, gray mash thick with bootprints and ridicule.

Well, last night, it was Arsenals' babies who felt the cruel smash of shoe-on-groin.

Hirshey, Bigus Dickus and myself gathered to enjoy the game in midtown, and by the hour mark, Hirsh had packed up and scurried back to the office, muttering something about having flap copy to write.

From the third minute onwards, after Jenas' jinking run-and-shoot goal amid a sea of pubescent Gooners, you had a bizarre thought in the back of your mind: will this turn into a rout? It did, thanks to further goals from Lennon, Keane, Malbranque and a superbly-headed own goal by Bendtner.

Arsenal tried their best to keep it competitive; after an early injury to Denilson, Fabregas leapt off the bench to play 75 minutes. Wenger's excuses about it being a young side were shaky at best from the get-go, with Gallas captaining and playing his first game in the Carling Cup for three years, and the decidedly non-youth team presence of Sagna and Hleb for the full 90. After the fourth Spurs goal, one which saw Goon keeper hiding his face from the shot, Wenger sent Eduardo and Adebayor into the game for reasons best left unknown.

And in proof that dickstomping can be successfully applied to oneself, Adebayor butted Bendtner in the nose, prompting such a row on the field that the FA's requested footage of the incident.

Malbranque's injury-time tap-in completed the rout, and ended Arsenal's long, arrogant run of consecutive wins in North London derbies.

As a Scouser, it irritates me that Arsenal do not lose very often, but they need to remember this feeling. It's important to know how to lose with grace, and casting all the youth and inexperience comments aside, their on-field petulance and fondness for dirty from-behind tackles in the last third of the game was hilarious to watch.

This is Spurs' biggest win against Arsenal for almost 25 years, and their first win against the Goon since 1999.

And while it's only one game in a middle-of-the-road knockout tournament, it still feels good. Seeing a big team get embarrassed every once in a while gives the pretenders hope. It lets you know that the game is still all about who wins in the 90 minutes, regardless of current form. Bendtner and co can put this to one side, say their apologies and get themselves ready for an EPL run that sees neither Spurs nor my Liverpool in the hunt for the trophy.

It remains to be seen if Arsenal will have recovered their genitals for Keegan's jaunt into town this weekend.

Photo Credit: Andrew Couldridge/Action Images

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Tottenham making it rain

Rumour out of Lyon is that Tottenham is going to buy Fred for $18 million. The Brazilian, who supposedly prefers the London club to PSG, would only be the 1,542th new striker brought into the team over the past couple of years.

Ok, thats actually unfair. They only have Robbie Keane, Dimitar Berbatov, Jermaine Defoe, and Darren Bent at striker.

Maybe Juande Ramos is going to go with the mythical 4-1-5 formation that I've heard is popular in Seville.

Seriously, what this probably means is that Spurs are going to turn around and sell Berbatov to Man U in exchange for the GDP of some small country. His price tag is in the $40-$60 million range, which means it would be a nice bit of business for Juande Ramos.

Ironically, giving the Bulgarian to the Mancs would be the most threatening thing that Tottenham has done to the Gunners in the past decade or so.

Fucking wankers.

UPDATE: Apparently the Fred transfer talks are dead. And Spurs are trying to flog Defoe and Bent to Villa and anyone, respectively.

Read more on "Tottenham making it rain"...

Questionable E-Bay Purchases for: The Tottenham Fan

Despite their rabid popularity,* we do not have any Tottenham fans on the UF team. So, as any good Gooner would do, I have taken it upon myself to let the world know of all of the glories that White Hart Lane produces. Today we discuss some items from E-bay that you might want to purchase for that special Tottenham fan in your life.

Item #1: Tottenham Hotspur baseball jersey

Hoo boy, that's ugly.

This beautiful (sic) item will cost you $34 at this time, although there have been 13 bids so you may want to act fast. When the UF team first found this item, we asked ourselves two questions: (1) do the Brits even know about baseball; and (2) how quickly would you get your arse kicked wearing this to White Hart Lane?

Item #2: Spurs "Glory Years" (sic, again) card

Poor spurs - 45 years and counting.

This little reminder of the past will currently cost you $2, and it can be all yours today, as no bids have been placed.

Item #3: A share in Tottenham Hotspur

Caution: Value may decrease significantly.

This item is currently going for the "Buy It Now" price of $58.73, and there are no bids. Buy a share and appoint yourself manager! You couldn't do any worse than Martin Jol (Juande - you're on notice).

Item #4: Spurs 06/07 Year in Review DVD

May contain football-like susbtance.

This item is valued at $31, and there are currently no bids. Take it home and relive the glory of the 2006/2007 season! Thrill to the 59 goals scored by Spurs in their EPL (suck it, Barclay's!) campaign. Watch with nervous anticipation as Tottenham chases the final Champions League spot all the way to the last day of the season. Listen as 60% of the team experiences gastrointestinal distress that they blame on Arsenal. Cackle with joy at the sight of Tottenham falling just points short, and ending the season in 5th place!

There you have it - Christmas may have passed, but there is always an occasion to kick the Spurs when they're down.

*Not actually popular

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Who Are: Tottenham Hotspur?

Welcome to a semi-regular feature called "Who Are:" where we introduce you to the EPL (seriously, suck it Barclay's!) teams. Yes, if you're here you probably know them already, but humo(u)r me anyway. Today's edition:

Team Name: Tottenham Hotspur (obviously. What are you, blind?)

Nickname: Spurs; North London Wankers

Grounds: White Hart Lane

Sponsor: Mansion.com (warning: link is NSFW, as visiting a gambling/on-line casino site at work may result in your being fired. UnprofessionalFoul.com takes no responsibility for you getting shit-canned)

Mascot: Cock 'n' balls. What's that? Oh, apparently it's a cockerel on a football.

Coach: Martin Jol. Oops, I mean Juan de la Cruz Ramos Cano (his friends call him Juande Ramos).

Current EPL Standings: 12th place with 24 points.

Most Interesting Statistic: In 91 matches against Arsenal, the tally for Spurs is 24-27-39. HAHA!

Bonus Interesting Statistic: Tottenham has not beaten Arsenal in their last 19 matches in all competitions. Their last win was over 8 years ago - a 2-1 Tottenham victory on November 7, 1999. HAHA!

Players of Note:

(1) Paul Robinson - The England #1 keeper is known for two things - scoring on an 80+ yard free kick, and letting in numerous howlers this season. He may soon be replaced by Jens Lehmann.

(2) Jermaine Jenas - Other than being an asshat for scoring in the Carling Cup tie against Arsenal this week, Jenas is known primarily for his nickname, JJ.

(3) Dimitar Berbatov - Tottenham's most famous player was the Bulgarian Player of the Year in 2002, 2004, and 2005. This is somewhat similar to my run as "Best-Looking Guy My Wife is Married To" in 2004-2008 in terms of difficulty.

(4) Steed Malbranque - Named after a horse.

(5) Robbie Keane - May have taken horse tranquilizers to produce his EPL-leading goal total for this year.

(6) Kevin-Prince Boateng - Does excellent work off the pitch.

(7) Jermaine Defoe - N/A, as the "other Jermaine" was told that he was free to leave Spurs.

(8) Gareth Bale - Youngest ever Wales international selection and Wales international goal-scorer.

(9) Aaron Lennon - Youngest ever EPL selection.

Considering 8 and 9, I do believe that Gary Glitter and Michael Jackson are in charge of transfers for Spurs.

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