Glory, Glory… and a Deep Breath: Spurs Survive, But the Hard Questions Aren’t Going Anywhere

The old strains of “Glory, Glory Tottenham Hotspur” rang around the stadium on Sunday, and for once they sounded less like tradition and more like collective relief.

Pure relief.

After months of stumbling about like a side trying to solve a puzzle while half the pieces were missing, Spurs finally dragged themselves away from the edge of what would have been the most humiliating relegation in Premier League history. A tense final-day win over Everton was enough to keep us up and send West Ham down instead.

Which, let’s be honest, did soften the mood rather nicely.

For the first time in what felt like forever, players and supporters were on the same page. The noise was enormous. The release was obvious. We could finally look ahead to next season knowing we’re still in the top flight.

And then, because this is Tottenham and things are never allowed to be straightforward, a giant banner appeared in the stands:

“Promised Success. Delivering Failure. ENIC out.”

The fans have sat through another season of mediocrity and frustration, and this was only our third home league win of the campaign. That’s not a typo. Three. So yes, the emotion was deserved.

The celebrations at full-time made sense. Of course they did.

But hearing Spurs supporters chant “We Are Staying Up” still felt surreal.

That’s the soundtrack of clubs scrapping for their lives every spring. Not Tottenham Hotspur. Not in this stadium. Not with these resources. Not with Champions League money arriving after last year’s Europa League triumph.

And yet here we were.

Once the pubs emptied and the singing died down, reality was always going to return.

Because survival doesn’t erase what’s happened here.

Finishing 17th for a second straight season is unacceptable. Full stop.

The warning signs were there last year. The Europa League win papered over cracks wide enough to swallow a back four. Ange Postecoglou paid the price, but replacing him turned into a masterclass in poor planning.

Thomas Frank looked sensible on paper. Smart coach. Strong reputation. Brilliant work at Brentford.

But Brentford and Tottenham are very different beasts.

Frank walked into dysfunction and never looked remotely settled. Eight months later he was gone.

Then came Igor Tudor.

That lasted 44 days.

A chaotic appointment became an even more chaotic reign. The low point came away at Atletico Madrid, when Antonin Kinsky was hauled off after 17 brutal minutes and left to walk off visibly devastated with barely a glance from his manager.

It felt harsh. It looked worse.

The whole thing unravelled exactly how everyone feared it might.

Which is why the move for Roberto De Zerbi deserves genuine credit.

Spurs acted before the season slipped completely into disaster and convinced him to come in immediately rather than wait and see what division we’d be in.

That mattered.

And to his credit, De Zerbi understood straight away that this squad needed more than tactical tweaks.

It needed belief.

He’s admitted himself he’s had to play psychologist as much as coach. Somehow, he got a response.

Wins at Wolves and Villa steadied things.

Then came Everton.

One last exhausting afternoon where Joao Palhinha’s decisive goal finally pushed us over the line.

The celebrations on the touchline said everything.

De Zerbi was right in the middle of it—fired up, animated, exchanging words with Seamus Coleman, then promptly rugby-tackled in celebration by Guglielmo Vicario.

Quite Spurs, really.

And while the supporters celebrated outside, the executives watching from the stands had plenty to think about.

Vinai Venkatesham. Johan Lange. Peter Charrington. Matthew Collecott. Members of the ownership group.

All there.

All watching a club with one of Europe’s finest stadiums and one of England’s loudest fanbases survive relegation by the skin of its teeth.

That conversation won’t be pleasant.

How does a club with this infrastructure, this backing and roughly £74 million from Champions League qualification end up here?

The answer isn’t complicated.

Bad decisions.

Poor appointments.

Too many players underperforming.

Too little urgency for too long.

Injuries to James Maddison and Dejan Kulusevski hurt, absolutely. But injuries don’t explain everything we’ve seen.

At times we’ve looked disjointed.

At times flat.

At times like eleven strangers politely meeting for the first time.

That’s what makes De Zerbi’s immediate impact feel important.

There’s at least a sense of direction now.

And crucially, some players seem to feel it too.

Micky van de Ven certainly did.

Finishing 17th twice running, he admitted, is unacceptable. But with the right manager and the right people around him, there’s belief Spurs can move forward.

That’s encouraging.

Cristian Romero returning for the finale also mattered, even if questions around his future remain.

There’s work everywhere.

Recruitment.

Leadership.

Squad depth.

Mentality.

De Zerbi already sounds clear on that.

He wasted no time after the final whistle.

By evening, he said, planning for next season had already begun.

And that’s exactly right.

Because yes, survival matters.

Yes, beating Everton mattered.

Yes, watching West Ham drop while we stayed up brought a little grin.

But nobody inside Tottenham should confuse relief with achievement.

This season gave us no glory.

No triumph.

No memorable campaign to cherish.

Just anxiety, frustration, anger and finally one enormous collective exhale.

The supporters were magnificent again, lining the roads before kick-off and lifting the place when it mattered.

Now the club needs to match that energy.

The celebrations were deserved.

The relief was real.

But if Spurs are serious about avoiding another season like this—and dear lord we all hope they are—the rebuilding has to start immediately.

Because “Glory, Glory Tottenham Hotspur” sounded wonderful on Sunday.

Next season, we’d quite like it to sound deserved again.

COYS.