I’d like to discuss the ‘world of football’. I’m not actually talking about the leagues, the non-league teams, the Bundesliga, La Liga, Le Liga or any other fucking Liga, nor international football, World Cups, nothing like that. I want to ‘refine the search’. I want to ‘focus in’. Because my poor, tragically abused Spurs mind is currently completely oblivious to all of that ‘world of football’ and is concentrating with laser guidance at just the Premier League. Or more specifically, positions 17 and 18. And that is currently where my entire life is being lived. Below 18 is of absolutely no significance whatsoever. Above 17 is merely of no concern at all. Ok, for Arsenal to win the league is something even some of their own fans don’t want. Yes, I’ve spoken to them. And they say that, were they to win the league, they would become so unbelievably smug and condescending that they’d hate themselves totally and forevermore. So they’re secretly hoping that the previous levels of choke-age return soon.

Position 18, which we currently occupy, is the position of death. It is relegation. It is oblivion. Disgrace. Shame. Doom. Penury. Disaster. A black hole. Bankruptcy. Whereas position 17 is salvation. Security. It where Jesus lived when he ‘died to save us’. That’s currently occupied by West Ham United. And with Nottingham Forest just about ‘clear’ and Leeds up-and-away, it would appear that the mighty, the beloved, the magnificent Tottenham Hotspur, God’s own team, are battling evil, nasty, demonic, working class!!!, West Ham, Beelzebub’s team, and only one will survive. Only one will be at 17 when the dust settles.

Yesterday was sheer agony. Because an amazing thing happened. Something that hasn’t happened before since 2026 began. An event so rare that hen’s with a mouthful of teeth stopped clucking in amazement. Blue roses turned their heads towards Wolverhampton. Where Spurs won a football match. Yes, it had to happen sometime. It was never likely to happen at home because for some reason we’re not allowed to do that. So dids’t occur, the miracle of Molineux.

But starting the day 2 points behind West Ham, we really needed them to lose, or even draw, to overtake them, should that unlikeliest of wins happen. And the Hammers took the lead against Everton. We were 0-0. The games were getting late. When suddenly two things happened. Everton scored at West Ham and Spurs scored at Wolves. The Holy Grail. The stars aligned. We were ahead, 85 minutes into the games, ‘as the table stood’ at that time. We had reached Nirvana. 17th place! Holy shit. Dare we resort to that most fickle of emotions: hope!

And that lasted for about 15 minutes until West Ham hit a late winner. Jumping back to 17th, Spurs back at 18th, still 2 points behind.

To say that goal was ‘devastating’ is to understate all previous definitions of ‘devastating’. And whilst the world appeared, to the uninformed, to just ‘carry on’, my world, viewed through my blue-and-white lens of despair and desperation, just narrowed down to the league table.

I need help. Either more goals or more psychiatrists. But something.

Happy Sunday (will they EVER be happy again???)

A xxxx