Done. Dusted. Apparently, our neighbors to the north are a sensitive lot, prone to catching a case of the vapors at the slightest of disturbances, be it a hastily scrawled sign or the scoring of a goal or two in order to defeat them. God forbid anyone point out the scoreline of such a match or worse, the state of affairs in North London.
Let’s not shoot the messenger, after all. It’s hardly the fault of Santi or Robert that Tottenham is what it is, and for them to broadcast this “news” is like pointing out that water is wet, the Pope is Catholic, or that bears Tottenham in the woods.
Look. Spurs are a big club. Aren’t they? As such, they and their fans deserve a bit more civility and respect. They’ve outspent us in four of the last five years, and if money doesn’t buy the kind of class that commands that respect, well, what’s left? They’ve spent some £230m on players over the last five years. It’s not our fault that we still haven’t finished below them since 1995.
It must be hard, hard work to work so hard and still sit where on the table? I’m so used to keeping track of the top four that I have to look it up. Ah. Fifth. Not too shabby. I can see where this sense of pride, this taking of umbrage, comes from. They might sit a spot higher had we let them score a goal or two in September. They might still be playing for the FA Cup had Santi not scored against them—maybe that’s it or if we hadn’t won the league on their pitch in 2004. Who scored there? Oh, yes—Pires. A bit of salt in the wounds, there, I suppose.
In fairness, the Spurs’ reaction, so far as I can find it, is a collective shrug of the shoulders. Why complain, after all? It’s all a bit of banter. In the future, we’ll have to mind our manners a bit more, though. With that in mind, Santi, no more off-color jokes, okay? If you keep that kind of stuff up, the Tottenham could really hit the fan.