somewhere in the past, in the vicinity of about twelve years ago, i fall asleep everytime football was on the telly. fast forward to the future, my heartbeat is now thumping faster than usual. the culprit in the last five years has been tottenham hotspur. the win against the bigger than life, glory-hunters favorite, chelski or chelsea in the carling cup final has been nothing but well-deserved. spurs had more possessions in the first half but through twists of fate or with me dropping over to the shop to procure a copy of la dolce vita, drogba scored from a spot kick. i come through the door, with the pundits and their views blaring from the background, drogba and his team were already one-nil up.
then the spurs fought back. first a berbatov penalty in the second half. then came extra time. i don't hover around jonathan woodgate that much. he was injured most of the time in real madrid that he was almost invisible to hardcore followers. i thought his winner was a lucky break, a keeper mistake from peter cech. probably it was the exhilarating wembley atmosphere, a far bigger occasion than the weekly matches at white hart lane, or the lacklustre home league display against slavia prague that propelled each player from the skipper ledley king to an exuberant robbie keane to the dishy bulgarian, dimitar berbatov to pounce on the match with a passion. even didier zokora, with all his chances, was impressive. aaron lennon, the youngster from leeds, was all over the place but still had his gloves on and definitely it was very nice to see paul robinson back again, producing stops after stops.
yes people, there is life beyond the premiere league's top four. i'm certainly excited that the glimpse of wonderment belongs to the spurs.
hail to juande ramos, the manager with the magic touch.
and the spurs go marching on!
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