As as kid, I learned my geography from football teams. Which can be problematical, if you’re trying to find ‘Everton’ on a map. But I learned Manchester (up norf), Liverpool (up norf), Arsenal (Woolwich), Southampton (up south) and Birmingham (Birmingham). I learned about Real Madrid and Bayern Munich and Inter Milan. From the international matches I learned where France was (too close) and Brazil (too far). But I never learned of Tamworth. Until a few hours ago I’d never had any reason to familiarise myself with the location of either the town or the eponymous football club. But now it’s on the map. Well, it always has been: now it’s on MY map. 14 miles east of Birmingham. In what I call ‘the shit belt’. Which extends from Stanmore to Scotland, Norwich to Anglesey. I’m not a judgmental person.

But now Tamworth is on my radar. Not that I’m ever likely to go there. Unless they move it to Islington. Spurs went there today to play them in the 3rd round of the FA Cup. The cup of ‘dreams’ (and nightmares; depending on which side of the score line you sit), the cup of ‘magic’ and the cup of ‘giant killers!!!!’ Because, in the 3rd round in particular, when the ‘big boys’ start to play, it’s one of the few times when top teams play lower league rubbish teams. And I use the word ‘rubbish’ with all due respect. It’s how Liverpool played Accrington Stanley yesterday, and Manchester City played Salford. Both of which ended with convincing wins for the big teams. But it doesn’t always go that way. Brentford lost to Plymouth. Not so much a ‘giant killing’ as ‘the death of a fairly tall person’, as the teams are just about 30 places apart.

And thus dids’t the mighty Tottenham Hotspurs arrive in the Midlands on a cold and frosty day to take on the not quite so mighty Tamworth. Who sit a mere 96 league places behind Spurs. A gulf in class so vast it should be a race between a horse and a Bugatti. Should be.

And that’s where the ‘magic’ of the cup comes in. Tamworth, as do all clubs in such a position, have absolutely nothing to lose. Their bunch of players are teachers, bricklayers, drug dealers, who get paid 20 quid (or thereabouts) for playing their football on Saturdays, just don’t care if they lose. It’s what’s expected. So they ‘went for it’. And, to be honest, they did so brilliantly. On a pitch made of plastic and covered in frost and sand.

Spurs, to their credit, did not want to play on their ‘class’, it wouldn’t have been fair. So they opted for ‘parity’ and played for 90 minutes like a bunch of semi-professional, Midlands-based, construction workers having a kickabout. And thus it went to extra time. Or ‘extra humiliation’ as it’s sometimes known. During which, the inevitable fitness difference between the teams simply had to kick in. It’s much harder to be a ‘box to box midfielder’ when you had 14 pints and a curry last night.

So we won. 3 nil in the end. A credit to Tamworth. A bit ‘squeaky bum’ for Spurs. But we’re used to that. And at least there’s no ‘replays’. Not what anyone needs. Other than Tamworth, perhaps.

I might send them a box of grass seed as a little ‘thank you’.

Happy Sunsay

A xxxx