Joy at Barca

Sitting back on my sofa comprehending what had just unfolded in front of me. Did I just see our beloved Tottenham not only get a result in the Camp Nou, But be the more expansive and dynamic team. Indeed Guillem Balague described it as ‘a better performance than when Bayern won 3-0’. I felt like getting a list of bookmakers in the uk and placing as many bets as I could, I was on such a high.

In truth as I sat there full of joy, I had a momentary pause of sadness for the players. They deserved more than just going through they also deserved to say they won at the camp nou. Maybe these things matters not to them? Personally I hope it hurts them, and helps drive them on.

We started the game reasonably, but were sucker punched from our own set piece. A horrible moment for KWP, who got caught on the ball and ruthlessly punished by the powerful and adroit Dembele.

It took us a little while to recover our rhythm, and this was helped by Poch switching us from the 41212 diamond to a flatter cm3, 4312 with Alli also dropping in to help, now we could compete with their midfield three, and we started to gently apply control the game. This control grew as the game wore on. We started the second half very much on the front foot, took control and turned a 48% game into a 53%, but we really took it by the bollocks in the 60thminute when Poch put Lamela in for KWP, moved Sissoko to RB, Alli back into the CM3 and went 433/4312 hybrid. Now we had three footballers in midfield.

We were pretty good for the first hour and created two or three great chances, but that last thirty minutes was one of the most compelling half hours of football we’ve played in the last couple of years, with that total footballing CM3, it was like watching Guardiola’s City. We were ruthlessly tearing Barca to pieces, put some lively moves together and created some wonderful chances, and in the end kind of fitting that we scored one of those very Pep type goals, at the spiritual home of Pep, with a piercing move, started when Eriksen takes out two lines of midfield with surgical precision, the ball finds it’s way to Kane, via Lamela, who fizzes one of those great un-missable balls across the six yard to Moura, who coolly smashed home. It was a proper footballing goal, incision, precision.

As I said, it was a momentary pause. Once that whistle had gone in Milan it was all about joy. Joy that one of our own recovered from a horrendous start to give a solid performance. Joy that a player much maligned in the past not only looked like he belonged on that pitch, but was instrumental in the way the team went about the job in hand. And joy that against the odds, the spurs clawed back qualification from the jaws of elimination.

Can we find more joy when we play in the next round? Unfortunately we won’t know until spring is upon us, but one thing we will always find joy when the spurs go marching in.