Glory has many forms

Deepak Chopra once wrote, “All Great Changes Are Preceded By Chaos”. To say that this Spurs EPL season has been disappointing would be an understatement. It’s been more of a chaotic roller coaster ride brimming with times of high emotion and valleys of deep depression. No single time period was more depressing than the one just incurred by the squad, the management and the supporters of our fine club over the past two to three weeks.

Poor Tim Sherwood is valiantly doing everything within his power to hang on at Spurs and like all managers has a vision he’d like to see realized.

Emotional losses to Norwich, a miraculous, albeit, gifted victory against Dnipro, barely hanging on versus a lowly Cardiff squad and a stellar first half followed by a gut wrenching dismantling at the hands of Chelsea in the second half.

Looking forward to Europa League glory is what we all were hopeful of but a 1-3 defeat at the hands of Benfica has tossed a rather incredulous monkey wrench in those plans.

Then there’s Woolwich. Raise your hand if you felt good going into this match up. No one? Yeah, me neither.

As the kick off got closer there was, and always is, an audacity of hope. Why do these feelings of, “WE’RE GONNA DO IT”, always creep in?

Why do I do this to myself? Why do I listen to Micky Hazard and get so pumped up that I can’t control myself? Why do we all do this as a collective?

[linequote]They found each other as a team! They fought for possession, they fought for every loose ball[/linequote]

Rationalizing it by saying, “It’s the North London Derby. Toss the stats out the window” and such. Then, before my Guinness even hit the table in front of me–they score.

Your heart instantly sinks. You begin to think, “Oh bloody Hell, here we go”! and then, just minutes later–poor Nabil Bentaleb misplays a ball that leads to another Gooner rush that thankfully is nicked wide by Oxlade-Chamberlain. Cameras find Tim Sherwood who has slung off his jacket and thrown it to the ground in utter disgust!

But then we all witnessed something happen that we haven’t seen in very long while. Over the next eighty-odd minutes we watched proudly as our Spurs reached down deep inside themselves and fought!

They found each other as a team! They fought for possession, they fought for every loose ball, we watched the lads sprinting to every point, diving in, taking a knock and still carrying on valiantly. We saw all four defenders winning balls, dispossessing attackers and passing with a purpose. Our players were playing the beautiful game the way it was intended to be played; the Spurs way. They created chances!

They didn’t park 40 yards out trying to figure things out like in weeks and months past. Players were whipping in everything, getting a head on it, taking free kicks and corners, all the while songs of support emanating from White Hart Lane by the tens of thousands in attendance; Songs being sung in pubs all over the world drowning out anything red in a tidal wave of blue and lily white.

I am admittedly, but proudly beyond my own understanding, a new fan of Spurs. Although in my forties, my sports journey covers a long and tattered road. The EPL is now a passion for me and after much research and self-debate Spurs are my team. About ten games last term and the entire current season encompasses my short personal history with this club.

[linequote]Songs being sung in pubs all over the world drowning out anything red in a tidal wave of blue and lily white[/linequote]

However, I have read nearly a dozen books, countless periodicals, numerous podcasts of which I have listened to every episode going 2, 3 and sometimes 4 years back. I’ve seen enough YouTube footage and video history to choke a goat and yet I still crave as much information as I can get my hands on.

But, something happened Sunday, March 16th, 2014. That is, and will always be, the day that I finally, with my own eyes, saw what being a Tottenham Hotspur player and supporter was all about.

What being a part of Spurs was about. How the history of the club intertwined within the fabric with what was happening on that hallowed pitch. For you see, a great man once stated:

“And we of Spurs have set our sights very high, so high in fact that even failure will have in it an echo of glory.”

Although the score did not accurately reflect the passion and desire witnessed on that evening, it will go down for me as my indoctrination in the Glory, Glory nights at White Hart Lane and it still echoes in my head days later and I write this to capture this, my first memory of glory, forever.