I’ve been away. Came back to a variety of FA cup stuff which was all well and good until we got drawn against Manchester City in the next round. And no-one wants that. Least of all me. But while away, they chose not to suspend the league in my absence but played it anyway! So I could, from a vantage point of 5.5 hours of time later, enjoy the results. And they were enjoyable for Spurs. In the most part. We had a good little run over the Christmas log-jam and festival of ‘let’s see how many players we can injure in 10 days’. But never mind, we’ve bought Timo Werner so we’re good to go. He’s a bit like Harry Kane, but without the goals. More importantly, Arsenal had a not-very-merry Christmas. Nor Chelsea. But this weekend we play the most indifferent team of the season, Manchester United. Oooooh, that’s exciting.

Have to mention that this week two sporting superstars died. The word ‘legend’ has now been relegated to ‘anyone who buys you a beer in the pub’, as in ‘cheers, mate, yer a legend’. But there was a time when it was used, although metaphorically, far less so than it is now. And both Franz Beckenbauer and JPR Williams were true, total, legends of their games. In some ways redefining the way their games would be played forever after.

Franz Beckenbauer can best be described in one word. Class. Because he ‘saw’ the game so completely, he was wasted as a striker, waiting for the ball. Even as an attacking midfielder his options were too limited. So he invented the role of ‘sweeper’, a proto-holding-midfielder. Because from there he could see everything ahead of him and with his incredible ability with the ball at his feet, he would craft the perfect attack. He simply ran the game, whether for Bayern or for Germany.

JPR was the Welsh fullback in the greatest ever period for Welsh rugby, standing alongside Gareth Edwards, Barry John, John Dawes, Phil Bennett and all the most brilliant players the Principality ever produced. But fullbacks were limited back then. Defensive roles, field a few high balls, kick out from the back. JPR was speed, power and skill, equally adept at running through the field as putting in awesome tackles. In one match his face was stood upon. He went off, had his (doctor) father put 30 stitches in his wound, bind him up, and returned for the rest of the match. I’m not saying injury protocols are not a good addition to the game, but when footballers get stretchered off the pitch if their hair gel goes awry, there’s something heroic and noble for the likes of JPR. Who was, as they all were, strictly amateur.

As one wit put it on Twitter: Beckenbauer and JPR died today. No-one’s getting through the defence in heaven.

RIP two legends of my youth.

Happy Friday

A xxxx