I had to work during the match. I had given a warning to a few of my friends not to text about the game. Felt safe, but then I got a text from a rando that knew I was Spurs. FML.
It turned out to be a good thing in the end. I got home, watched the match and still nearly had a heart attack. In fact, I owe that friend a beer because after the second Ajax goal, I probably would have broken my TV .
As we went into added time, I started to doubt my friend knew what the fuck he was talking about. Perhaps we fucking lost, and he didn't know his ass from his elbow (possible if you know him). Jesus, and then it gets to the fucking last 45 goddamn seconds left and I'm like "That shit, he was just fucking with me." I'm all like shit, we are going to lose AND i'm taking shit for it with sarcastic texts.
And then Lucas roars in and we are FUCKING GOLDEN GODS!!!!!!
It's past midnight and I am jumping and fist pumping and fired, fucking , up.
What a fucking match. The ultimate display in digging deep and never giving up. Relentless. Glorious. Fantastic.
Each year I get a kit top, and my choices are fairly random on who is on the back, but I try and prognosticate who will be the big influence that season. This past fall I went with a Lucas third kit. I have always liked his forward movement, his aggression, and his creativity. After last season I felt like he was destined for great things. When he shines, he shines bright. And now that kit stands as an emblem of all things great and honorable about this club: tenacity, indomitability, fearlessness, class.
We are Tottenham Hotspur. Glory, Glory.
COYS