The Cock and Ball Stories - Ep5
Tottenham Hotspur – A Love Affair That Will Never End
Having followed Tottenham for over forty years, I have borne witness to the highs and lows of supporting a football club. We all have lofty expectations for this club and with the 2015-16 season having just reached its conclusion in arguably, typical Spurs fashion, we can reflect on said campaign with mixed emotions but once the dust settles, we must conclusively state that is was a successful season. I know I picked us to finish sixth on the Hotspur America podcast at the start of the season (Ken was closest with fourth), and I was still unsure whether Pochettino would be capable of building upon 2014-15. Despite the disappointing end, third is a great finish for the club and we would have all bitten the proverbial hand off if some mystic said that Tottenham would finish third with automatic Champions League qualification. I believe that wobble in the last few games will put the off-season into clear perspective and allow us to use the summer to build upon and hopefully add the appropriate squad numbers to prepare for a new campaign with the winning belief needed to push on. Now that we have secured a top four spot with relative ease, the expectations will definitely be higher.
Which brings me to the point of this edition of the blog: the Spurs Odyssey - the journey that has us coming back for more. More glory, more joy, more pain, more let-downs. It’s the Spurs way. I’ve written about the growth of the club on US shores in a previous blog and as we have more exposure at the right end of the table and the sport gains more popularity this side of the Pond, Brand Tottenham Hotspur will continue to gather new support. It’s not common in England for guys or girls to start following the sport and a club in their late teens or mid-twenties. It’s typically a birthright handed down from fathers to children. But with the rise in popularity in the US of ‘sacker’, it’s inevitable that the lure of the Premier League will do the opposite. But it’s the start of a new relationship!
As mentioned, I started following Spurs in 1972. I had no family influences. I did not have any parental guidance nor any siblings to goad me into supporting their club; nobody really cared about football in my house so I was left to my own devices. Despite growing up in Stoke Newington in the 60s and attending a primary school off the Seven Sisters Road (virtually South Tottenham), I was only aware of that horrible lot down the road in N5. I’d see their supporters walking down Lordship Park on Saturdays but strangely I had not one shred of curiosity as to what was going on. I was not interested in them. If only someone had told me about the club that was in the opposite direction! All that changed though a few years later. Despite now having more interest in the game, and around 1970 Chelsea and Leeds seemed to be taking up a lot of the headlines, I was still not swayed to any particular club. Fast forward to 1972 and I was staying with family friends for a while and they had a son around my age. One Saturday they had friends going to see Spurs play West Ham at The Lane. In those days there were no replica shirts and to be honest, not much of a club shop! We were both asked if we’d like a rosette. I now say this with some shame but we both wanted West Ham. It must have been the Bobby Moore factor (the 1970 World Cup was really my earliest football recollection and Bob was England captain, so we’ll stick with that!). However as the good lad I was, when informed that we could only have one rosette from each club, I picked Tottenham and let my friend stick with his original selection. That afternoon, we were glued to Grandstand and awaited the full-time results. Suddenly, bragging rights were at stake and being extremely competitive, I had my first lofty expectations: Tottenham had to win! Unbeknownst to me, this was my first day supporting the Lilywhites and they did not let me down – a 1-0 win got me off to a great start. Oh and I still have the rosette.
Having moved away from North London and with nobody really caring whether I followed Tottenham Hotspur or Forfar Athletic, there was a greater likelihood of me passing my o-levels at ten that seeing Spurs play. Seeing Match of the Day was not exactly a top priority in our house either so I rarely saw them on the telly unless I was at someone else’s house. It was a foggy time for me in the mid-70s. I recall the day we won the League Cup in 1973 and Ralph Coates’ dodgy comb-over as a highlight of that period. Sadly, though, all was brought back into sharp focus in 1976-77. School on Mondays was suddenly quite painful as it appeared everyone remembered I was a Spurs supporter (& it seemed I was clearly in the minority amongst the Arse population who sought me out after the weekend’s results). The away match to Derby County was an especially enjoyable Monday. The inevitable doom occurred in May as we were relegated. The following season I suddenly found myself living in Somerset. Somehow as I entered my teens, football finally gained some prominence in our household and I even saw Spurs on TV… a lot! Despite playing in Division Two, we seemed to be on the telly quite frequently that season. October 22nd was a good day to be a Tottenham supporter as Bristol Rovers were put to the sword on Colin lee’s debut shipping four goals to him and a further five in a somewhat lop-sided affair. But going to school on Monday was still not much fun. Especially not for those with London accents when the local team for most lads was…. Bristol Rovers. I kept a low profile that day (although I was sought out for a good back-slap from the Bristol City lads).
My love affair with Spurs was well and truly underway during this season and the anorak in me started a notebook collecting all kinds of stats, results and press clippings. As with the rosette, I still have newspaper cuttings from that season. Notably, the match report from a dull 0-0 away draw at Southampton on the last day of the season that took us back to Division One (funnily enough, that season we slipped from second place and looked increasingly nervous as the final matches were played). The World Cup was upon us that summer and what followed was a watershed moment for any Spurs fan: Burky’s coup in signing Ricky and Ossie (yep, have that press clipping too). This was truly a joyful day and my naivety had us winning the league immediately because we had signed World Cup winners! The opening day result of drawing at defending champions, Nottingham Forest confirmed my belief. Losing 4-1 at home to Villa midweek brought me rapidly back down to earth (as did the 7-0 thumping at Anfield a month later). Reality sank in and it was a Spurs side that struggled that season. Mid-table beckoned.
It was the following year that I had finally watched my beloved Tottenham in the flesh, albeit away at Bristol City but I was watching my heroes. I was probably quite lucky too as the pitch was frozen hard and the match could easily have been called off. The game ended 0-0 in a rather dull affair largely due to the dodgy rock hard surface that didn’t lend itself to the beautiful game. But I didn’t care, I’d seen Ricky, Ossie and Glenn Hoddle. All was good in the world. Even being spat at and called a wanker by a local wurzel failed to dampen my spirits. I liked this football match thing. The Seventies quickly vanished and signs of a team on the rise started to show as Spurs went deeper in each season’s FA Cup. Suddenly we were walking out at Wembley for the 100th Cup final in 1981 and a few days later, we were winning it! I watched the replay with my girlfriend at the time and as a fellow Spurs fan, recall exactly what we did to celebrate that victory…
The Eighties weren’t a bad time to be a Spurs supporter. We often went deep in all competitions and collected a couple more trophies. We were rubbing shoulders with the Liverpools and Evertons who dominated the old Division One throughout those years but never seemed to gain the consistency in the league to trouble them seriously, despite three campaigns coming perilously close to glory. The cups remained our bread and butter and the 1984 UEFA Cup Final remains one very clear memory. At that point I had moved to Bournemouth and was in a rented bungalow I shared with some mates. The reality set in quickly when we moved in and I saw that despite being fully furnished, that definition did not include a television set! The second leg was days away and I really didn’t know any other Spurs fans that I could invite myself over to watch the match with. On the morning of the second leg, I nipped down to Curry’s and bought a TV… just to watch Spurs. It was two hundred quid I didn’t have but I was watching Spurs that night (clearly with no beer as I had no money left). The drama that unfolded on the brand new telly was history in the making. Falling behind to Anderlecht. Edging our way back into the match. Then with six minutes left, Ossie hits the bar from inside the six yard box only for the ball to be played back in and for Robbo to scramble in the equaliser. Extra time. Penalties. Tony Parkes. Danny Thomas. Tony Parkes. Stuff of legends. I watched the game on my own but as we hoisted that beautiful cup I was dancing around that tiny living room like a maniac. What a night that was.
By comparison when I had moved back to London a few years later, I was able to finally get to the Lane only to be heartbroken. My first match was the League Cup semi-final replay in 1987 that we lost on two late goals. My first match at White Hart Lane and we lose to those muggy gits. It took me weeks to get over that. More disappointment came along that season as not only did we fade in the title chase but despite being clear favourites to win the FA Cup, we were upset by a plucky Coventry side. Our only FA Cup final loss, I was not good company that weekend.
And so the Eighties drew to a close as we entered another transitional period: the arrival of El Tel, some unremarkable signings and some mid-table mediocrity. It didn’t last long as we signed that crisps fella and finished a lofty third in the 1989-90 season and returned to Wembley the following season to firstly dispose of the old enemy in the FA Cup semi-final despite being underdogs (how nice was it stopping them winning the Double?) and then returning a month later to prevent the great Brian Clough from winning the one trophy that had eluded him in his career. Despite the mercurial Gascogine becoming unhinged and stretchered off, vindication for 1987 ended in celebration for the unlucky Mabbutt of that final who was on hand to lift the ’91 edition’s cup.
I’m still waiting for us to go back to the FA Cup final and these last twenty-five years have been wretchedly barren for many Spurs fans despite the lustre of the Cup becoming a little lost on today’s football fans in the Premier League era. A handful of League Cup Final appearances with most of them swinging the other way is scant consolation for a team with such a storied history in cup competitions. But we survived the awful sides of the mid-90s and early Noughties. A ray of light shone in 2004-05 as Big Martin Jol took over another struggling side and actually had us playing some decent football and unearthing some proper talent at the same time. Suddenly, Tottenham were climbing the table. We were back in Europe, we won a cup in 2008 beating a team that held an Indian sign over us for years only for the following season to have us slide back to the wrong end of the table and fire yet another manager. Enter Harry Hotspur and the foundations for the next era were clearly laid. The future is truly bright, Lilywhite and all-fucking-right! Back in the Champions League, a new stadium on the horizon. Hopefully, there are no more false dawns and we can continue to challenge for honours. To stack the trophy cabinet and to finally not have to deal with Dave in Accounting to have his sly digs every Monday morning. Let the boot shift swiftly to the other foot. It’s been a wild forty-odd years but I’d not trade it for any other team or any other sporting experience. My allegiance has never wavered. I can wholeheartedly say that (unless you are born into a club-supporting family) that your team chooses you and you are stuck with it. I’m fine with that.
During this time, I’ve not just left London and sodded off to Australia, I’m now married with kids and living in Texas of all places. I’ve been to the Lane more often now that I live further away and I’ve also generated two new Spurs fans and inflicted the legacy of becoming Tottenham fans for the rest of their lives. It was hard for my eldest going through those early Noughties sides of proudly wearing his Spurs shirt to school only to have the United and Woolwich-wearing lads give him some verbals, but he did not waver and now gives it large on Mondays!
For many UK friends of the Dallas Spurs, this may not be a remarkable story of how I became Spurs but for the US Tottenham fans, they may gain some perspective that has similarities to their new ties to the club. Whether it was ten years ago because of Robbie Keane’s goal celebrations of the more recent exploits by Gareth Bale or Harry Kane. Spurs will rise again and there will be a new crop of fans. Sadly, there will be those that jump on the bandwagon (watch out, Leicester!) but that is the current state of football. But for there to be a bandwagon, first we must win. Win big, win often. There are no regrets supporting Tottenham Hotspur but please, for the love of God win a title before I die!