Spurs songs sung loudly. So loudly that they can be heard far, far outside the realm of The Lane, or even your country.
I say this because I’m an American. If that disqualifies me from participating in this conversation, then I apologise for overstepping my bounds. Further, I have to preface my remarks by stating that I’ve never stepped foot inside White Hart Lane, or even the country itself. I’m only about a thousand dollars from having saved enough money to be able to make the pilgrimage, and I relish that opportunity. Unfortunately, it costs someone like me £5,000, not £50 to see Spurs up close and personal.
But I digress. I’ve not missed a Spurs game in years, thanks to countless questionable Russian web sites that I won’t/can’t name. I feel strangely connected to a club that plays thousands of miles away.
What electricity! What atmosphere! For a moment I thought, “What the f*** do we need the Champions League in our stadium for when we have this!
I feel connected when I wear a Spurs kit throughout the day on match day, or when I wear my Tottenham scarf out in public, knowing that 99.9 percent of the people who see me don’t even realise my pride.
But what I love most of all, is hearing the songs. Whether it’s “Spurs are on their way to Wembley”, when we’re battering Peterborough 4-0 in the cup, or just another “Jermain Defoe, he’d a Yiddo.” I love the songs because I sing along, like I’m mad, alone in my apartment. With an ocean between us.
Which brings me to the 1882 initiative. It’s not just the week-in-week-out supporters who have noticed the drop in intensity. It comes through on the computer (or television if I’m lucky). I read all the retweets from @LoveTheShirt after the youth game, and I could only wonder what it must have been like.
Then, after recording the match, I turned on the Maribor game after racing home from work.
What electricity! What atmosphere! For a moment I thought, “What the f*** do we need the Champions League in our stadium for when we have this!” (Then I remembered the millions of pounds and sponsorships and sighed.)
This is exactly why I fell in love watching this team. This is the reason! For a while, Bale and Defoe couldn’t seem to find the right link and Adebayor was adjusting his way back into the side. But even though we weren’t clicking on all cylinders, it didn’t matter. We were phenomenal. And by we, I mean the supporters in the crowd, singing their hearts out, and the players feeding off that energy.
In the sixth minute of the game, I thought to myself, “Even if we lose 3-0, I know I will enjoy having watched this game.” As it turned out, I enjoyed watching it more than any other game this year (sans United away).
So cheers to a wonderful initiative that has been brilliantly executed thus far. Hopefully it injects some enthusiasm into us all as we march onward this season.