A Letter to Antonio Conte

Dear Antonio Conte:

I am not without empathy. I unequivocally get it from my mother.

She was a wonderful woman. Everyone loved her compassion, her smile, and the innate way she connected with people. She always knew what to say and how to say it. Just an incredible woman, who had so much empathy to give. She would watch the evening news and make herself upset, tears accompanying the stories. I would ask her, more than once, why she’d watch it if it made her upset? “Because I need to know what’s going on!” she’d say in earnest reply.

I got my love of the English game from my mother. While she preferred a certain Scotsman on the red half of Manchester, once I saw Tottenham Hotspur for the first time, I knew then and there they were my club. If it was even possible, she loved me more for it.

I lost her in 2017. She was tired from fighting any number of the cancers that she had at any given time. She knew that it was simply her time, and that she was delaying the inevitable.

When I say I am not without empathy, it’s because I know what it’s like to lose someone you love so much. It took months before I stopped thinking about her, and then I felt guilty because I stopped thinking about her. It wrecks you. How can you go onwards when someone you love isn’t around anymore? Yet, time goes marching on.

We find ways to deal with it and cope. We reconcile as best we can. The pain doesn’t go away, but it does change – it morphs into understanding and thus back into love.

Seeing our captain hold up a Gian Piero Ventrone shirt away at Brighton, I knew. I mean, I knew beforehand, but now it was visible. Everyone was playing through grief. The modern game is brutal and relentless that way. It profoundly affected the squad, who only knew him for part of a year. I can only imagine what he meant to you, Antonio.

And it’s also not just Ventrone. Gianluca Vialli and Sinisa Mihajlovic, two friends of yours, have also passed away within the scope of just four months. One loss us unfathomable, but three? I can only imagine what’s going through your heart and your head right now. Living out of a hotel, family in another country, and invasive surgery on top of it all. Now do this press conference.

The modern game is so very brutal and demanding. Only the coldest, meanest of Spurs fans would have blamed you for wanting to take a step back. I cannot imagine your head or heart is anywhere near the right place.

Yet, it is probably your heart that is telling you to come back to the touchline and manage the remaining fixtures. I saw how upset you were at the COVID outbreak and getting unfairly, unceremoniously dumped out of the Conference League. I saw your fiery, last-minute dances at Leicester and at City. I’ve seen you grin and hug players who have had great games. I’ve seen you applaud the away fans cheering your name. This means something to you, even if you don’t currently think so, even if you think “Well it’s just Tottenham.”

Which brings us to today. Dumped out of the Champions League and FA Cup within a week, our two last chances at silverware this season. Spurs fans are now back to their anxious levels with a manager now desperately wanting out. You’re practically begging for the chairman to sack you, and let it all finally be over. Can’t really walk away now, can we?

I have never seen the fanbase so united in wanting a manager out before. Your predecessor was a dead man walking who lost El Sackico. Before him, The Man Who Wins Everything Everywhere, after one of Spurs’ most humiliating losses of the decade, still had a league cup final in the background – which he never got a chance to manage. This is extremely different. Talking the way you did about Milan and Spurs, going back to the fail-safes of needing time to build a project whilst impressing upon everyone Milan’s great history and that maybe you’re just too good for this job and this club. It was the speech of a wounded manager, begging to finally be put out of his misery. Make the chairman’s position untenable.

Your grief is showing.

I am not without empathy. I think your heart was in the right place, but the modern game is brutal and demanding. Milan and Sheffield don’t care that you’ve lost a mentor and two friends in four months and were still recuperating from surgery. They analysed hours of footage on our automations, our tactics, our players’ strengths and weaknesses. So what if you lost three loved ones? So what if Spurs want silverware?

You are taking it out on us and the club rather than the clubs who have bested you. The fans are braying for blood. You are making it extremely difficult to stop me from being one of them and being empathetic. You have said Spurs need to suffer, but we are Spurs. It’s our thing. But we don’t like suffering from wounds inflicted by our manager. That turns into self-defense. And I’m only convinced you’re doing it because you’re not thinking clearly.

It’s incredible that we’ve gotten to the point, really.

Yet, even now, there’s still a way out of this. There’s still a way for everyone to walk away with better memories than what they have now, which includes you, Antonio.

Spurs fans love a redemption arc.

Ask Moussa Sissoko, Matt Doherty or even your own Emerson Royal. Ask the fans how they feel about cult favourites. It doesn’t take a whole lot of effort to get the fans back on your side. Even our own boy Kane, head turned by City, made it back into the fold. Just keeping your head down, getting better and committing to the cause.

I know you don’t like losing. I’m sorry Spurs is that club, but I also don’t think you think you’re better than the club. You brought Juventus and Inter back to their former glories. You know Tottenham is set up to be the same way and I think you were interested in a long term deal. Maybe I’m projecting. I’m sorry we couldn’t make it happen, but there’s still thirteen games left in the season and work to do. You don’t have to throw it away. I think there’s still something for you here, something to salvage in a season that has been tragic and miserable for you, Antonio.

When you walk away at the end of the season we’re still going to be here. I empathise with you. I hope you can empathise with us.