‘To infinity and beyond’

Bedlam, chaos, havoc and complete pandemonium. All adjectives which can be used to describe the moment. The moment and the man will forever be in our hearts. Lucas Moura. I can’t believe it, my Tottenham, Tottenham bloody Hotspur are in the Champions League Final to be played at the Wanda Metropolitano in Madrid. To me the opposition in the final is irrelevant, it could’ve been Mansfield Town or Pep Guardiola’s Barcelona in their prime the main thing was that we got there. We made it, the promised land and a potential 120 minutes away from the most sought-after trophy in world football.

All season long we have had our backs against the wall. Not a penny spent for two transfer windows and injuries galore. In Pochettino’s words “nobody believed in us” which is true in all senses. In fact, many of our own fans didn’t believe in us going into the second leg against Ajax. We’ve done it against all odds, somehow the magic man has got us here. At half-time, all Spurs fans were crestfallen, shot of hope, yet still with the same desire to get to the final. The powerful De Ligt header on five minutes coupled with Hakim Ziyech’s class finish to Lloris’ left providing the sucker punches that left us with what previously a hill to get over but now it was an absolute mountain to come back from here. To have any chance, any hope or even the slightest glimmer that we could do what seemed like a miracle we needed a fast start to the second half. We came straight out of the blocks, with a fire in our hearts and the extra spring in our step needed to take us where we wanted to be. In truth, at this point, as expected I was feeling void of hope and optimism but I felt if we scored first in the second half at least before the 55th minute we were giving ourselves a chance. Low and behold the boys duly obliged. Lucas Moura was the man who stepped up, from the streets of São Paulo to the world’s biggest stage. The Brazilian wonderkid.

The roar from the away end of Spurs fans cooped up in the gods of the Johan Cruyff Arena. Was the loudest we’d heard of them yet. After Lucas ran through and finished in the bottom right with great aplomb. Lucas picked up the ball and ran straight back to the center spot. Not long after it was that man again. He was at the double, using his quick feet in a tightly packed area to find the space he needed to power it home into the left-hand corner. Another roar was let out from all Spurs fans around the world. Those for Ajax in the stadium looked a nervous wreck. Lucas’ first and second coming in a quick four-minute flurry setting up a swashbuckling final 30 minutes. We needed one more to go through on away goals. Ajax reacted to our two-quickfire goals by hitting the post and forcing some heart-in-mouth moments at the back from fans and players alike. As the clocked dwindled down to the 85th minute I started to lose hope. Time had never been more of the essence. I didn’t want us to just pump the ball up there aimlessly in hope of it dropping down to someone who could knock it through, but that time was fast approaching. Deep into the 3rd minute of injury, the 5 added for injury time we won a corner. This was it, last chance saloon the ball was crossed in and headed over. That was it. The game was finished. 20 seconds and our Champions League dream was over. Until following the André Onana goal kick we regained possession and found Dele in a tight space but with an eye through to the man of the moment Lucas Moura. He put Lucas through and the rest, as they say, is history. Hattrick hero.

We had done it quite literally in the dying embers of the match. 5 seconds away from more semi-final disappointment but no not this time, not on Moura’s watch. I will never forget the moment or the man himself. I’ll leave you with this. When Pochettino joined Tottenham in 2014 he said this: “We will give you everything to make you proud of this football club again.” You’ve done that and so much more boss. You’ve allowed us to dream to infinity and beyond my friend.

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