That good old fashioned Spurs pragmatism

After the Swansea win I found myself confronting a mix of emotions which have become quite familiar this second half of the season. After taking a few moments to decompress, take some deep breaths and do the usual ‘post-Spurs’ snapping back to reality, I ceremoniously turned to the internet to revel with other fans (taking a brief detour past the usual Woolwich melt-down hotspots).

Among the post-match hysteria, briefly interrupted with some actual football analysis, I was hit with the oh-so-familiar feeling of cautious optimism; a feeling I felt was prevalent with other supporters, which is now starting to feel like an old fashioned way of viewing Tottenham Hotspur.

While others to be screaming ‘We’re going to win the league!’ without a hint of irony anymore; I’m finally allowing myself to say, ‘You know what, we might actually snag top four this year…’ before hurriedly looking around to make sure nobody heard me and can hold me accountable come May.

And that’s entirely on me. It’s brilliant that we can actually shout about winning the league and that’s what we should be doing. Logically, mathematically, genuinely… we can actually win the league! Spurs are right on the leaders’ (Leicester, bloody Leicester) tail, Woolwich are looking like they might be losing traction and we’re riding a wave of great form and even better cheer.

But it’s just, haven’t we been here before?

In the last five years, we’ve seen Redknapp’s final season where we looked locked into top 3 at least, followed by AVB’s ‘Woolwich in a negative spiral’ watershed moment. Yet here I am, feeling thoroughly miserable because I haven’t booked my flights to Barcelona next season.

[linequote]Logically, mathematically, genuinely… we can actually win the league![/linequote]

I feel like that worn-out trope of the romantic comedy; the stoic love interest that can’t let himself get too attached to the protagonist until the third act because ‘he’s been hurt too many times before…’ I’m Matthew flippin’ McConaughey.

I should clarify, I am loving this season. This is the most I’ve enjoyed watching Tottenham and to bring out this tired Match of the Day-esque cliché, there genuinely seems to be something very special happening at White Hart Lane.

I have to consciously reign in the urge to constantly gush about Tottenham for fear of alienating myself, but also because I can see all too clearly a Sunday afternoon in May where an almost unbelievable act-of-god (or whatever malevolent deity permits poisoned lasagna or Chelsea beating Barcelona and Bayern Munich on a season they finish sixth) allows all the people I’ve annoyed to make me never want to watch football again.

[linequote]It seemed that most people wouldn’t have been displeased with another 5th place finish, provided that some progress was eviden[/linequote]

Coming into this season, Spurs fans shared refreshing sense of perspective that I haven’t seen for a while. We had a promising manager who had quietly impressed in his first season, a young squad who looked hungry yet raw but most of all, an acceptance that this was a long-term project. We really meant it this time, and it seemed like the board did too; there was an almost patient understanding.

It seemed that most people wouldn’t have been displeased with another 5th place finish, provided that some progress was evident and would have taken your arm off for a top four finish. Now I’m seeing Spurs fans saying that it’s ‘title-or-bust’. The shift in standards is jarring, but maybe that’s a good thing.

I cannot remember another moment in my time watching Tottenham when the words ‘To Dare is to Do’ carried more weight. This team can absolutely win the title and the thought of letting such a golden opportunity slip does deeply upset me.

However, should we miss out on lifting the Premier League trophy but next season I find myself rushing from work on a Tuesday night to watch Spurs-Bayern Munich in the rain, my mind won’t drift for one second to whatever disappointment I felt this season. I’ll be listening to that Champions League anthem swell up around White Hart Lane and thinking, “Thank god for Tottenham Hotspur.”