I never doubted my team, not for a moment, all season. Even when they were throwing away every game in the last seconds, finishing every game with 9 men on the pitch and slagging each other off in the press as we ploughed through a new manager every 3 months. I never doubted their skill, their commitment, their passion. Which would, by sheer force of belief, result in ‘success’. (There are many measures of ‘success’).

That’s why I haven’t been nervous, even concerned, about the end of the season. It really was ‘no big deal’ for me. I was chilled. Faith in the ‘program’, blah, blah, blah. Any kind of ‘fear’ you may have taken from these pages was just your imagination, and projection of how YOU would feel if the team YOU loved had GONE TO FUCKING SHIT AND WERE DESCENDING LIKE A BROKEN FUCKING LIFT!!!!! Whereas I was simply chilled about the whole thing.

And my calmness and low heart-rate and intact fingernails was totally proven justified yesterday afternoon. Where, at the Lane, Spurs breezed past Everton in the season’s finale, calmly and without fuss, anxiety or concern. Job done, game over, nothing more to see here. No relegation, no catastrophe, we’re safe and sound.

We scored what turned out to be the only goal of the game (but you don’t that at the time!!!) just before half time. It was fantastic. White Hart Lane exploded as if a cup final had just been won. Which, in so many ways (including financial benefits) it had. And the mood lifted, the uncertainty took a strong stop towards ‘certain’ and the party began.

Then West Ham scored against Leeds. Oh. Then they scored again. And thus were unlikely to now lose or even draw. They had 3 points. So Spurs fans had to dig deep and ask themselves a serious question: would you put the house on Spurs not conceding 2 goals in 10 minutes, plus (a shitload of) stoppage time? The question was answered by the general nervousness around the Stadium, and in my lounge. Because this current team of ours has the capacity to snatch defeat from the most advantageous of positions.

Anyway, Everton didn’t score, West Ham scored a third, but who cares? We were safe and sitting pretty (17th???) whilst they are sitting in the Championship.

Yet certain journalists were unimpressed that the mood after the match was ‘celebratory’. Well, if I’m honest, they may have a point. But, basically, fuck ‘em. We had done better than win a cup; in financial terms alone, we ‘had it off’. What we’ve done is assured our clubs place at the top table. For at least another year.

The future is bright. We’ve just arrived in Cadiz, but more about that tomorrow.

Very very very happy Monday

A xxxx