To all those Spurs fans who went up to Leicester on a shitty, rainy, cold January night in support of a team who have not given too much cause for celebration in recent weeks, in the hope of seeing something special, something out of the ordinary, something even spectacular, I hope you enjoyed it.

To those who left 5 minutes before the end, just to get a jump on the traffic, to catch the earlier train, to have a quick pint before the journey, because ‘we’ve lost this already!’ I salute you. Basically, you fucked up.

Sometimes its the ‘game of two halves’, often its four quarters, occasionally even 7 eighteenths. But last night’s was all about the last 2 minutes. Of injury time. OMG. There’s never been an ending like that. (Never once that my team’s been on the winning end of, for sure). The 1999 Champions League final ending was special but even Ole Gunnar Solskaer didn’t cut it that fine. Last night it went down to the wire.

The silly thing, the Spurs thing, the annoying thing, was that we’d played really well and created a shed-load of chances. Which amounted to nothing. All the statistical superiority is simply meaningless (just ask Barcelona, or Arsenal) if there’s still a big ‘zero’ after your team name on the score-sheet.

But we’re Spurs! We never say ‘die’, we can barely spell it, and we pressed and pressed and eventually, inevitably, as with all good, hard, honest work; we went a goal down. But wait, it was far from over. Harry Kane was on the pitch!!! And if you can remember, he’s not just good at hitting woodwork and looking miserable, he can score goals. And he did. Which was fab. Until Leicester scored once more, with just 15 minutes to go and looking much better than the sad rabble they’d resembled in the first half.

And it got late and we were still 2-1 down, and it got to the end, so they added on a few minutes of injury time and we were still 2-1 down. And then it got to 95 minutes and and and WE SCORED!!!! The equaliser that feels like a winner. Late as late could be.

But not quite late enough as about 70 seconds later… we scored again. That one in the 97th minute. Both goals by Stephen Bergwign. Our favourite… Dutchman. OMG it was truly, madly, deeply insane. Matches simply don’t end like that. Not for us anyway. But they can, it did and we won.

And you left at 87 minutes feeling depressed and wondering why you’d bothered to go in the first place.

Happy Thursday

A xxxx