In many ways this was an unremarkable win in a match where little of note took place. However, this is our Spurs and we don’t confront these must-win games very well. This time, we kept the ball, kept going and came home with a deserved victory.

Possession won this game. All the time we had the ball, Stoke were under pressure. Their regimented defence kept us at bay for a long time but we kept coming. Much of it was ordinary, a game played sideways as we shuttled back and forth across the field in search of an opening. The tempo could have been brighter but mostly it was played in Huddtime, where the clocks seem to run just that little bit slower than the rest of the universe.

But we kept going and the chances came our way. Bale came close two or three times, once from a delicious through-ball from the otherwise ineffective Parker, Dempsey’s reaction miss from a corner, then Vertonghen. In the end, patience found its virtue with Manu alone at the far post to touch in Dempsey’s low, late cross. The American had a good game. Ignore Adebayor’s silly rehearsed jig, as the ball hit the net Deuce turned and raced to our grateful fans in that corner. He has a feel for this club.

Another goal in the last ten minutes. Is that the seventh match running? Villas-Boas has passed on the message that you keep going until the end. They are certainly fit enough to do so. His substitutions were effective too, Dembele coming off the bench fresh when we had to keep up the pressure and pace a better sight than his sorry figure limping off, finished after an hour. That time when we were worried about conceding late on feels like a bygone age. Yesterday we played out the last ten minutes without incident.

Our Andre deserves the credit for this and other aspects of the performance, including Manu’s drifting into good positions from out wide and for standing dutifully in the pouring with a mac that may be smart but clearly isn’t waterproof. However, he hasn’t sorted out the set-pieces. Our pitiful record had Pulis salivating in anticipation. First free-kick, we went zonal in response. It worked. Everyone stayed dutifully within those zones, it was damned unfair of the Stoke players to actually move. We stood still, they didn’t and we were one down in a couple of minutes. It was irredeemably stupid, utterly pathetic defending. We can laugh about it now but at the time the dark clouds blotted out the sun above my house…. And let’s not forget Dempsey needlessly gave away the free-kick in the first place.

Dempsey however found redemption in our equalizer, sharply reacting to a poor clearance and lobbing the ball into an unguarded net from 35 yards.  An assist too, a good game indeed.

Charlie Adam helped the cause. Determined to carry on his record of maiming as many Spurs players as possible, he challenged Vertonghen with no hope of winning the ball then stretched too far after the restart and was gone, second bookable offence. He’s a man out of sorts with his game, capable of so much more. I’m not a bitter or vindictive man but had to chuckle at the indignant reaction of many Stoke fans to the referee’s performance, which the TV showed was spot on throughout. Stoke had a rota to foul Bale as he ran at them. Pulis must surely understand why most supporters of Premier League teams have little sympathy for his oft-repeated line that his team don’t get the breaks.

Finally, a reminder of who really runs the game. Last week we kicked off thirty minutes late because of traffic problems. Yesterday, train-loads of Spurs supporters were delayed in or near Rugby because of an incident that closed the line but the match is on Sky so kick-off goes ahead on time. It stinks.

Performances and results can be both good and bad at the same time. I could press the pause button for a month and still not reach a firm conclusion. A draw was bad – the CL is now out of our hands even if we win the last two games. The draw was good – we twice came back from a goal down, saved a match where at one stage we were being outclassed, notched a point. The draw was bad – I had hoped we would win. The draw was good – it was more than I expected.

That’s a contradiction, but hey, we all know that contradiction, the unity of opposites, is fundamental to society and our full understanding of the nature of reality. Big shout-out to all you Maoists out there. That’s what we saw on Wednesday, the reality of Spurs. Tottenham are in fifth place because we are the fifth best team in the league.

The magnificence of the week where we defeated Arsenal and brushed Inter Milan aside did not as I said at the time herald a new balance of power but was in fact the highpoint of a season that has since declined. We’ve not played well for a while now. The sublime seven minutes versus City, Bale’s sublime seven seconds last week or two ropey goals to salvage a point at Wigan have covered the true extent of our dip in form. You know what, I’m disappointed but not too down about it. That ridiculously wonderful week remains glorious, not because of the immediate consequences but because it showed what we are capable of and what we should aspire to. We’ve overachieved to reach this point, whereas our rivals are uncertain of their future. There’s so much to be proud of.

Let’s take the Chelsea game. That slick midfield trio tore us apart at the Lane earlier this season. They were on top for much of the first half and at times threatened to repeat their trick. However, we dragged ourselves back into the game with a combination of hard work and application plus a few tricks of our own. It was an unequal contest on paper. By my reckoning our starting eleven cost a couple of million more than Fernando Torres, yet in the build-up no pundits mentioned that as an example of the imbalance in terms of the resources available to the respective managers. That’s because we are seen as their equals, which in itself indicates some of what Villas-Boas has achieved in such a short time.

The pundits did reveal the truth after the match however, albeit inadvertently. Souness, one of the few I admire, trotted out the hackneyed line that our Andre was fortunate to inherit the side from Our Glorious Harry Redknapp. Not so. He has had to replace half a team, the best half aside from Bale. Modric and Van der Vaart sold, King, the finest British centre half of his era, retired, Kaboul, our best current centreback, injured all season. Then he’s had to cope with Sandro’s loss, the lynchpin of our side. Against them, Mata, Hazard and Oscar. How many times do we have to say this before it is heard? Yet still Villas-Boas cannot get the credit he deserves for punching above our weight. It’s a backhanded compliment that people now expect Spurs to play so well, that our standards are so high that we are criticised for falling below these rich expectations, but it takes only a moment of perspective to uncover the reality.

With the positives comes frustration at what might have been. Never mind what if we had a striker, what if Adebayor had played for the rest of the season as he did on Wednesday. His goal astonished as much as any of Bale’s this season. Winning a scuffled challenge deep in his own half, on he went, and on, as fast as his spindly pipe-cleaner legs would carry him. Lennon’s shrewd run occupied a couple a defenders just long enough to give Manu some room, by no means the first time this year that Azza the unsung hero has worked hard for his team-mate to take the glory. A gem of a shot, floating into the top corner, the most precious of accolades, a flat-footed keeper helpless in the face of such brilliance.

The frustration of a midfield unable to protect a back four. Analysis of individual goals in blogs has been rendered pointless if Gary Neville is poised by his touchscreen. All I would add is the position of our midfield. Three blues were between them and our back four when they began the move that led abruptly to their second goal.

For a time it looked unequal but we gradually inched our way back into the match, keeping the ball better and playing as a unit further up the pitch. As Chelsea tired or slowed because they thought the game was won, this allowed Vertonghen to push up, gave Parker a fraction more space, which sadly these days he needs, and with the introduction of Siggy and Dempsey we could put more pressure on the centre of their back four. We had an outlet. Nothing was going on down our right but Adebayor was drifting left. (AVB again…). To begin with, this gave us an outlet as we relieved the pressure on our defence. then, gradually, this became part of our attack. For the first time we employed some combinations between our players. We had three, Manu, Benny and Siggy, to their two. Moreover, Manu was thinking quickly as well as moving into the gaps. One touch, Siggy filled one of those gaps and finished with aplomb. The runs from midfield, a goalscoring midfielder, that was why he was bought and he fulfilled his promise.

Mentions in dispatches for Lloris, who stayed calm and did what he had to when he had to do it, and Walker, who takes up some crazy positions but worked tirelessly and defended well. He does what he does because he wants to do well and I can handle that.

Fourth was always between Spurs and Arsenal. Look at what Chelsea have at their disposal, with a manager who knows how to organise a team. We’re ahead of Arsenal in so many ways – I wouldn’t take any of their back five. Yet since the derby they are unbeaten. Our problems are not up front, they are at the back. All this tactics, the hope, the despair, the promise, all the philosophy and words I spew out. No point if we can’t head away a corner. It’s odd how these grand schemes fall in the face of humble problems. Last season, how we bemoaned the fates - the injuries, Fulop, the dip in form, Bayern Munich. I tell you what’s truly ironic. We are the fifth best team over the season because we can’t clear a corner.

SPURS LEGENDS IN ACTION

The John White Memorial Match will take place on Saturday 18 May 2013, with kick-off at 2pm.

The match is being held at Colebrook Royals FC, Grange Farm Lane, Chigwell, Essex, IG7 6DP. (Close to Chigwell tube station)

One of the heroes of Tottenham Hotspur’s all-conquering side of the early 1960s will be remembered in a special memorial game featuring the Spurs Legends team on May 18.

The official Spurs Legends team, which tours the UK regularly to help raise funds for worthy causes, is set to take on FC ScotSpurs, a dedicated team of Scottish fans of Tottenham, in a memorial match for John. Guesting in the FC ScotSpurs side willl also be Flav, Charlie Marks, and Thelonius from TFC podcast.

Poignantly, John’s son Rob is set to captain FC ScotSpurs against the team of ex-White Hart Lane favourites, which regularly features the likes of Mark Falco, Paul Miller, Tony Galvin, Clive Wilson and Darren Anderton.

Please support the event. Rob is a great friend of Tottenham On My Mind. Hope to see you there.

Tickets will be on sale on the day, priced at £5 for adults and £1 for under-16s.

Money raised from the event will go to the Tottenham Tribute Trust, which is an organisation that reaches out to members of the Spurs family who are facing hard times.

Donations can also be made via: http://www.justgiving.com/fcscotspurs

It recalls the time when I first heard soul music, I mean proper r’n'b soul, live, Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes in of all places Canterbury Odeon. I knew their songs but not that feeling, a ten piece soul band battle-hardened through hundreds of gigs in sweaty down-at-heel clubs let loose on an impressionable middle-class English teenager. After three songs I was holding onto the back of the seat in front of me for fear my legs would give way.

Bale’s goals are like that for me. Each as fresh as the first time, a driving horn section, swirling hammond, thumping bass, the crunch of the snare and screeching riff all rolled into one. That feeling.

They are all different. No speculative potshot that happens to fly in. This one began in familiar fashion, a little shuffle to the left, then acceleration and another touch, not beating a defender but simply sliding the ball where he cannot reach it. The final movement protected the ball in the instant of contact, leaning over, distorted body shape to enable the perfect contact. Low and hard this one, right in line I watched it arc into the bottom corner, finding a gap where there had been none for the previous 80 odd minutes.

Empty phrases like “world-class” don’t cut it, even if he is. Gareth Bale is a reason to believe, in the beauty of the game, in the team, in our ability to compete against the very best, to keep the faith. That anything is possible. I urge you never to take this for granted. In my late fifties, I have never seen anything like this. Greaves, Gilzean, Chivers, Hoddle, you name them, Bale is thier peer. This isn’t world-class, this is better than that. This is the fabric of myth and legend.

Until then, Bale’s demeanour and performance could not have been more at odds with this sensational moment. The other great ones strut and preen even if they are not playing well. Bale cut a forlorn figure, lost in midfield as the game went on around him. It was as if playing against his old club cast him back five years to when he was a youth team player finding his way. It was a reminder that even now he’s little more than a kid.

Lost and forlorn sums up this match as far as Spurs were concerned. It was a collective failure of epic proportions, as if the players had been introduced to each other for the first time in the dressing-room before the warm-up. To describe it as disjointed implies they knew what they were doing in the first place, which as the time passed I came to seriously doubt. After an hour, they became incapable of string three passes together, and that was when we were playing better.

The nadir was a little later. We had totally run out of ideas, then rallied with Manu and Holtby providing some much-needed impetus. Still, it was all a bit desperate. Something nearly happened, maybe we got vaguely near the Southampton box (it was that sort of game, even that lifted the crowd) and the ball went out for the throw. To break things up still further, three of their men went down. Benny restarted with three of our side having a drink by the bench, oblivious not only of the fact that the ball was in play but also that some urgency was required to rescue this god-awful mess. Walker was the width of the pitch away from his position. It showed that their minds had gone.

In the case of two key men, Dembele and Lennon, their legs had gone too. Both barely got involved, both went off injured. Neither was fit and neither should have started. Spurs were weak before the game kicked off.

It all adds up. iI the team is paying well, you can carry a man who is slightly unfit or out of position. However, we started with two men unfit and Dempsey vaguely left midfield. That’s fine if we are on top and he has some freedom to cut in. Yesterday, Southampton strangled the space and pushed him back, and the Deuce is no left midfielder. It showed. Benny was no help. Trying too hard, he gave the ball away frequently. He depends on having an outlet, but Dempsey gave him nothing and Defoe’s movement was limited. Collective responsibility. Hud’s long passes can be effective but the Saints did not allow our forwards any room. Also, the team are not used to the long ball game. With Bale denied space too, we looked distinctly uncomfortable for almost the whole match. One shot on target in 90 minutes tells its own story. 100% success rate, though.

Saints were organised and cultured, a fine side who surely won’t go down and will prosper next season. By the time Bale let loose they should have had the game sewed up, spurning two golden chances in the first half.

In an undistinguished afternoon, a little mention for Lloris who in his understated way did everything he had to and on one occasion something very special, hurling himself low to his left to tip a free kick onto the post. A lifesaver – even with Bale, such was the poverty of this performance we may not have come back from that.

Three games left and who knows. We’ve never looked less like a top four team as in the last few matches yet with Bale there’s a reason to believe. As I’ve said for a while, the defence is the key. We may not be scoring heavily but the problem is, we are shipping soft goals. The irony is, this was our first clean sheet for umpteen league games and our worst performance. Enforced changes may mean a more defensive set-up in midfield for Wednesday but Holtby and Siggy may be what we need. His goal covered up a dire effort but let’s worry about that in the close season, because with Bale on the break there’s a reason to hope.

They have much in common. Serious, earnest students of the game, they must overcome not only their comparative youth but also the suspicion of the cerebral approach that is inbred into English football. It may be a meeting of minds yet on the evidence of Spurs’ two matches against Wigan this season, it is not a meeting of equals.

Twice Martinez has tactically out-thought and outmanoeuvred the Spurs manager resulting in just one point from six, not good enough as we push for the top four. At the Lane, his 3-4-3 stifled our midfield and constantly pressured the defence. We could not get going. Yesterday, they fell back after going a goal up. With a high line at the back and conceding space around the halfway line, they compressed the play into a twenty yard strip. Spurs barely had room to breathe let alone pass the ball or, perish the thought, mount some attacks.

We fell into the trap. Spurs had changed things around too. Huddlestone’s strong appearances as a substitute were rewarded with a start. He played well in the first half, finding his range straight away and willing runners into the channels. With more composed finishing and touch on the ball we could, should, have at least got more shots on target.

However, once Wigan went into the lead, there was no space for the ball to drop. As soon as he picked out a man, the ball was either intercepted in the air because our opponents had time to see it coming or the man on the ball was swiftly swallowed up by willing tacklers. Also, we did nothing to knock it around patiently to draw out the Wigan massed ranks. So the passes became aimless side to side rather than into the heart of the defence and our opponents could contentedly stay in formation. Hud’s long passing game became a liability.

Belated width from Bale and Lennon changed nothing. We did not give the ball to either of them. Their starting position was too far up the field, swallowed up like the rest of us.  We never escaped from that stranglehold. We have the skills but not the wit or intelligence.

None of which should have mattered. On top in the first half, Hud’s raking passes looked as if a breakthrough was sure to come. Defoe was bright save for wanting the extra touch. Bale went through the full repertoire – headers, passes, lay-offs, cushioned headers in the box – excepting a flat-out afterburners run. Something is not quite right. Parker should have shot when after a fine move Defoe’s touch rebounded to him off the keeper. Quite what he was thinking of in taking a touch only he will know.

Yet it was comedy not class that brought the goal. Ten thousand times we’ve seen forwards descend on the keeper only for the clearance to sail upfield. This one hit Bale and pinged into the goal. I have seen it once before, Mark Schwartzer at the Lane, Kanoute’s backside?

Most teams would have ruthlessly exploited such good fortune, but this is Spurs. Wigan equalised from a corner within two minutes, Vertonghen beaten from a standing jump for the second time in three games. Corners and set-pieces have become a liability again. Without making a detailed analysis, my impression is how empty our box seems. The tiresome argy-bargy that comes with most set-pieces is about blocking runs, shutting down space and ensuring that no opponent has the luxury of a clean jump. We don’t have men on the posts so where are they? We need to get low down and dirty like the rest of them.

I don’t recall Lloris making a save in the first half or even touching the ball although he must have. Yet soon in the second half we were 2-1 down, a fine shot from the edge of the box. We needed a lift to get back yet there was nothing.

Pass and move is our style yet everyone was befuddled. It would have drawn Wigan out and got our dangermen on the ball. Parker was committed but failed to exert his influence, too far forward again. I know he is capable of more.

Then we have the substitutions. Last week they won the match in a frenzied spectacular of goals. Yesterday they merely added to the gloom. Not for the first time we saw a full-back for a full-back, which is such a waste especially as on the left there isn’t a radical difference between Naughton and Benny although the Frenchman is undoubtedly the better player and should start. I have advocated for a while now that we should play the same defence for the run-in rather than chop and change all the time. Villas-Boas judges Naughton to be better defensively but we know BAE needs a run of games to bed in.

As it was, we could have done with another midfielder, Siggy to get into the box or Carroll to stimulate the passing game, releasing Dempsey to get alongside Defoe. The few crosses we managed put no pressure on the Wigan defence.

Wigan were extremely good at what they did, pressing like maniacs and allowing us no time on the ball. They also kept their shape like Roman centurions. That said, it would have been harder with ten men. Gomez, who had already been booked, went in head-high on Holtby. Much as I despise players who make a fuss, if Lewis had gone down the referee would surely have reacted.

We needed more luck to equalise, a late free-kick diverted into his own net by Boyce. We are still in it, the pressure until the end of the season won’t diminish regardless of today’s results. However, we are not sparking as we should. Lennon, Bale and Dembele (who went off holding his leg yet again without making a significant contribution) are not fit and we really need that spark because we can’t keep a clean sheet. Four left, flat out now. Much focus on the attack this season but our destiny is in the hands of our defensive discipline. Must get sorted at the back.

There’s a tension in these pages between this acknowledged weight of history and the evidence of the four seasons that I have been writing. Tactics, players and motivation dictate how we perform. Yet on Sunday, back comes the past, a little nudge in the ribs, a prickling sensation on the back of the neck. Don’t fool yourself, I’m still around, think you can put me to one side, eh? Won’t ever leave you.

And so this is Spurs. Dead, buried and worm-ridden compost in a match controlled by our opponents, three goals from nowhere turned despair to delight in a stunning frenzy of dazzling brilliance. It shouldn’t have to be hard, but it is. Like a relationship with a capricious and beautiful high-spirited lover, there are tough times when you feel that it’s just not worth it but in your heart you know you will stick around because when the times are good, they are like nothing else on earth. The way she touches me, and when she touches me, nothing else matters. Spurs will always be worth the wait if there are are ever another seven minutes like these. And that’s how it is.

For nearly seventy minutes, the big nowhere. Then Bale, the play passing him by, pretending to be fit but not sprinting hard at any point, not fooling anyone. Bale, out wide, suddenly has some space even though City have two fullbacks on that side. Walker finds him with an idle pass. Bale, outside of the foot, bisecting defenders and keeper. I don’t know what Kompany was supposed to do because that ball was perfection. Out of  nothing and nowhere, the perfect ball arcing across the box and Dempsey touches it in at the far post.

Relief and amazement in equal measure, but no time to think about getting away with it. Holtby’s perfect ball into Defoe’s stride, switches onto his right foot, a moment’s pause then the force of the shot rips apart the air and snatches the breath from our lungs. Amidst bedlam in the stands, Huddlestone picks out Bale, his pass curling between defenders and onto the Welshman’s toe, right on his toe. Confronted with Hart, Bale does not hesitate. In line with the shot, I see it beat the keeper but not hit the back of the net because I’m in mid-air already. A remarkable, unforeseen turnaround. Sometimes I long for the ordinary, the comfrotable victory, a stroll in the sun. Well hang that, give me the chance of seven minutes and three goals like that any time.

City were dull, and I mean that in a good way, in a way that Spurs can never be. By apparently doing very little, they sucked the energy from hearts and limbs. A goal down early on, Nasri criminally deserted in the box, Spurs shuttled the ball around but after a while it became clear this was not the purposeful calm of comeback preparation. This was it, as good as it would be. Nothing happened. Oh for the boredom of total superiority.

Long balls; has it come to this? Unable to move in midfield, we began to bypass the congested centre with varying results – sometimes Kompany won the ball but on other occasions Nastasic got there first. Still nothing. Adebayor worked to make himself available but could not hold onto the ball or find a team-mate. However, the service was low-quality, the link-up play worse.

But there are long balls and long balls. Tommy Huddlestone has received so much criticism for his lack of movement, we have forgotten that if he calibrates the range, he’s the best long passer in the league. Twice now Villas-Boas has brought him on to change the game when opponents have been retreating. This gives the Big Boned One that extra yard, that precious fraction of a second. He can look forward not around and behind him. Immediately on his well-timed introduction he began to pick out his man and the danger levels increased.

Bale had moved wide right from the beginning of the half, offering some width. Now he started to see some of the ball. Walker pushed on, working as hard as ever. But as Parker and the inconsequential Sigurdsson trudged off, the other substitution turned the game. This was Lewis Holtby’s breakthrough match. His energy lifted Spurs’ tempo and he sought the ball wherever it went in the centre of the pitch. For the first time in a Spurs shirt, he linked this to a real feel for the ball. His passing was excellent – that’s a fine left foot he has there. It’s the recipe for the perfect midfielder, plus he complements the sedentary, long-passing Huddlstone impeccably.

Slowly Spurs wrested control of tempo and territory if not the scoreline. City players could no longer settle and they failed to adjust to these changing  conditions. Then our Andre’s masterstroke. Defoe for Manu, speed and agitation for leggy despondency. He came away from the back four, hunting for space. Together, AVB’s subs won the match and did his manager proud. He tends to leave it too late sometimes for the subs to make any difference. This time, one set of tactics were not working so here’s plan B. Width and pace were rewarded. City will ask how they lost but when faced with astonishing football like that, they shouldn’t worry too much. They won’t see the like for some time. A truly memorable game or rather, seven minutes.

For several years now the Ticket Exchange Scheme has enabled season-ticket holders unable to attend a sold-out match to resell their ticket through the club at full price for that fixture less 25%. Although the commission is steep, it seems a reasonable compromise, given that we invest so much so far in advance and kick-offs are changed at the whim of TV. Before Sky, I could safely guarantee in advance to keep Saturdays and Wednesdays free – Spurs midweek matches were always on a Wednesday – whereas now it’s impossible to plan ahead. Many seem wary of the exchange, judging by the number of tickets that appear on twitter in the days before a game, but at least the tickets were available via the club, as they say on the official site, ”resulting in genuine fans having greater access to tickets.”

From the start of next season, this will change. The Ticket Exchange will be no more and reselling spares must be done through Stubhub. Listing is free and it still applies only to sold-out fixtures but there are two significant changes. Season-ticket holders can now set whatever price they want. The market is king – several hundred pounds for the north London derby is a conservative estimate.

Also, nowhere does it state on the site that this offer is open to members only, as was the case with the Exchange. It very carefully enthuses about the benefits to ‘Spurs supporters’ seeking tickets but avoids the word ‘member’. On the basis of the club’s own information, anyone could buy them.

This looks like touting in the 21st century, institutionalised scalping on a corporate scale. Tickets will be on sale at inflated prices and will be available only to those who can pay. Stan Flashman reincarnated in the boardrooms of multi-nationals. It may prove to be an inducement to season-ticket holders to sell their seats for the many games that will be sold out if we have any sort of success and an incentive for members to chuck away their cards, never to return.

Also, it appears impossible for the club to control who has those tickets once they appear on the site. There’s nothing at present to stop those seats, which will be printed on paper tickets, being resold by touts, who can truly put a value on the laws of supply and demand. They could easily go to away fans, although Stubhub clients Sunderland make an exception for the Tyne and Wear derby.

The membership scheme is essentially a premium for the privilege of having some priority over White Hart Lane tickets, an advantage that will disappear once the ticket goes to Stubhub. Never mind free Spurs TV, membership is worth less than it is is now.

It is possible for members to retain some priority if Stubhub have access to the Spurs database. On the face of it, this flouts protection under the Data Protection Act but interestingly the current One Hotspur terms and conditions contain the following (the italics are mine):

“The Club will keep your name, address, email address, phone numbers and other personal details including credit/debit card information and use this information to fulfil your order(s) for Season Tickets plus Membership and for customer service purposes. We will disclose your information to our service providers and agents for these purposes.”

So by buying a season-ticket, it could mean you have already agreed to your details being shared. I should stress that the position of members and anything re the terms and conditions has not been confirmed by the club and the Tottenham Hotspur Supporters Trust is urgently seeking clarification regarding these and other matters to do with the Stubhub partnership. Joint chair of the Trust Darren Alexander said today:

“Requesting a meeting on this specific matter was one of the first things we did and we’ve chased it up on several occasions. We are aware it is a major concern to a lot of fans and we will not hold back from asking pertinent questions.”

The meeting takes place before the Southampton game and the Trust undertake to report back within 48 hours. Yet the club have not taken the chance to use the word ‘member’ instead of supporter and this contract has been planned for some time. It’s not used on the Sunderland website either. Therefore the speculation is fair and I would be happy to post clarification on the blog as and when it appears.

In the last year there has been considerable concern about the activities of the growing number of secondary markets for tickets, mainly in respect of concert tickets. A Channel 4 documentary showed that far from being an open ‘fan to fan’ marketplace, some agencies and promoters were indecently close, with promoters syphoning off substantial numbers of prime seats direct to the secondary ticket agencies who sold them on for a fat profit. Those seats were never available to the general public at the box office.

I don’t recall Stubhub being mentioned at the time. They are a large company successful in America owned by ebay who will use them for all ticket listings in the future. They have contracts with other Premier League teams so football is obviously a targeted growth market for them. It’s not clear on the Spurs site how much commission they take but on other sites it is 25%.

It’s also unclear how Spurs make their money on this. It may be a flat fee over the year or, as seems more likely, a percentage of the commission. Either way, they will receive substantial income which is presumably higher than either the cost of reselling or of simply leaving the seat empty because they would have otherwise not have changed the system  As I say, a percentage may not be the arrangement they have. However if it is, it means that the higher the price and the further away it is from the original seat price, the more they make.

My article earlier this week about the grumblings amongst fans in and out of the ground pointed to the alienation between fans and teams. This doesn’t create the poor atmosphere in the Lane directly but increasingly we feel distant and disgruntled, feelings that have to emerge in some way. The Stubhub scheme can only add to the problems. In football true loyalty is priceless. The club would do well to remember that.

Things have changed. The good days are as good as ever, witness the bearpit that sent the gunners scuttling back to the antiseptic corporatism of the Emirates last month. For the average league game, however, it is often flat and lacking passion. In quiet passages of play, the passivity is palpable.

Recently this has provoked considerable debate in social media and elsewhere, wherever Spurs fans gather in fact. Last week an interview with Clint Dempsey implied that he thought the crowd’s edginess was having an adverse impact on the team. It has been linked to what is perceived as growing dissatisfaction and negativity. Fans are swift to roundly condemn players. Twitter may or may not be a representative cross-section of Spurs’ support but it is a nightmare of bile and downright hatred when we lose. Some players are blamed not just for defensive lapses but for causing global warming, world poverty and the arms trade, or so it seems sometimes. Certainly in the ground it appears as if the traditional relationship of the fans lifting the team has been reversed as we wait for a spark on the field to get us going. It’s not the same at away matches, where Tottenham have a deserved reputation as one of the best supported clubs in the country.

In common with supporters of other Premier League sides, Spurs fans are victim to some of the less welcome trends of modern football. Also, there are other factors peculiar to the club. However, there’s nothing new under the sun, least of all Tottenham fans being critical of their team.

As a young supporter growing up with Spurs in the mid sixties, I devoured all the information I possibly could, not just about my heroes like Mackay, Greaves and England but also about the precious history of the club. From the very beginning I knew that I was part of something special and I desperately wanted to fit in, to understand what it meant to be a Spurs fan.

I learned that we played the Spurs way, good football, pass and move, on the ground. We had star players to match. I also understood very early on that Spurs fans were characterised as a critical bunch who were quick to get on the backs of the players if things weren’t going well. This often came up in the media and you still hear it occasionally from pundits who were around then.

David Jenkins has had a profound influence on my life as a Spurs fan yet the vast majority of you reading this will never have heard of him. Jenkins was a young winger who came into the Arsenal side and quickly made an impact, so much so that he impressed Bill Nicholson enough to not decide to buy him but to include the excellent Jimmy Robertson, goalscorer in the 1967 Cup Final, in the deal.

Aged 11 or 12, I was not impressed with what I’d seen in black and white highlights on Match of the Day and the Big Match. Flashes of promise but no real talent. he ran qucik and straight but that was it. For the first time, I learned to have my own opinion about a Spurs player and dared to question the judgement of the venerable Billy Nick. Turns out I was right. Jenkins quickly faded and remains one of the worst players seen at the Lane in my time. The point is, before he left the scene he was given severe stick by the crowd, which could not have helped his development as a young man finding his way in the game. Things were made worse for him because of the adverse comparison with Robertson, a fans’ favourite.

The Spurs crowd always had a scapegoat. One of my first games, sitting in the wooden seats in the Park Lane, one player was given dog’s abuse. Useless, waste of money, a donkey. Go back where you came from. As an impressionable kid, I loved it. That player was Martin Chivers, on his way back from injury but sections of the crowd were unforgiving, all long forgotten when he became one of our finest centre forwards of the modern era.

It was expected – there was always one. Part of going to Spurs. Off the top of my head, Paul Stewart, a limited centre forward, young again, who went on to be a top class midfielder under Terry  Venables’ shrewd guidance. John Pratt, remembered fondly now as a hard-working midfielder dedicated to the cause but that was in spite of coordinated, consistent moaning at the time. Chris Armstrong, Vinny Samways - there are more. At its worst it was systematic barracking that began as soon as the first couple of errors were made. Whinging openly about, say, Jenas and Dempsey in recent times are mild in comparison.

I never bought into the idea of the Spurs crowd as fickle. We know good football and raise objections when we don’t get it. Nevertheless I can recall loud and sustained slow-handclapping of the team and gates below 20,000.

Put in this perspective and this season sounds like a golden age. However, there was no doubting the intensity of the support when we got behind the side and singing from our ‘end’. Unquestionably there was more singing and chanting. Songs were louder and more varied and each player had their own tune that was sung in the build-up to each game. As kick-off approached, so the volume was turned up.

One reason why it’s nearer mute these days is that over time, the Spurs’ fans’ heritage of a place to sing has been destroyed. When I started going, the Park Lane was our home with the Shelf well-populated but a back-up when things were going well. Gradually the balance shifted. Then, one season we turned up and the Park Lane was away fans only because of security concerns. Most away fans came by tube, the Park Lane was closer to Seven Sisters and in those more troubled times the police wanted to get them into the ground as quickly as possible. But they took our end away.

After a period of confusion, the Shelf came into its own in the seventies and beyond. In fact, the noise was greater because of better acoustics under the East Stand. Then they took that away too, in favour of executive boxes. Other clubs have disrupted their fans through a move to a new ground, Arsenal’s loss of the North Bank being the prime example, but surely no other club has so heartlessly moved their core support not once but twice. The insult still rankles and it’s caused the problem we have today.

Sharing the end with away support is better than nothing  – at least it’s our historic place – but no other Premier League team has the same arrangement and for European games our core support is unceremoniously shifted out entirely. It’s an absurd state of affairs that harms the support and therefore harms the team. An all-seater stadium with a high proportion of season tickets means we can’t move around even if we want to.

This factor is unique to Spurs but supporters are also victim to other harmful elements of the modern fandom. We’re not the only ones. I hear many teams say that it’s not like the old days, even giants like Liverpool and Manchester United. Supporters across the Premier league are becoming increasingly alienated from their teams because of the way the clubs behave towards us. High ticket prices despite vastly inflated TV revenue is the biggest bugbear, closely followed by ever-changing kickoff times at the behest of Sky and the deafening, offensive clamour of their incessant hype.

At Spurs we complain about yet another above inflation price increase or over-priced European games, the board shrug and point to the season ticket waiting list, variously given as between 23,000 and 30,000. The loyalty of fans who have devoted a lifetime to the club means little in the face of the irresistable forces of supply and demand. The club do not care who sits in those seats as long as someone does. Meanwhile, the chairman has an alleged salary increase of £400,000.

Then there’s TV. There is less need to invest in the time and expense of going when every match is on television. More significantly, TV has distorted the entire nature of the sport. Performance is minutely analysed not at the breathtaking real speed of Premier League football but after 37 replays and endless camera angles. It creates unrealistically high expectations of what is humanly possible of footballers. The defintion of good play and a good player has changed in the process.

It also encourages criticism. There’s an emphasis on failure – what defenders could and should have done, not the creativity of players who in any given situation were better in the battle between attack and defence that has been played out since football began. Recall the Arsenal home game again. The following Friday 5Live were still devoting endless airtime to what the Gunners’ back four should have done. Little mention of the stunning, deadly combination of skill, pace, timing and precision that created for Bale and Lennon two of the best goals I’ve seen for donkey’s years.

Add to this culture of criticism the other curse of the modern game, an unrealistic sense of entitlement. Success is justified, nothing matters if we are not in the top four and we deserve to be there because we are a big club. Sack the board, the manager, everyone because in a season we’ve not done it. Spurs’ are not alone in this, in fact our fans are by and large infinitely more grounded than the average New Chelsea fans where time began in 1993 and finishing second is a catastrophe. However, the odious culture of entitlement is insidiously insinuating itself into the debate and in my view this has become over the past few seasons, paradoxically since we have actually started doing well. I know a few souls who in private say they preferred the whole experience fo being a Spurs fan when we weren’t expected to win very much. I also think this is worse in social media compared with in the ground itself.

This alienation doesn’t automatically cause any major changes to the nature of being a supporter. However, it’s a backdrop, an undercurrent of discontent simmering away underneath our experience of watching Spurs that every so often bursts to the surface in a torrent of frustration and anger. I believe this explains a lot about the tensions and lack of passion at Spurs at the moment. It creates a situation where there is less tolerance and space. We are quicker to pounce on failings because we are putting up with more than we deserve. I’m not saying this is right, but it is undeniable.

Finally there are demographic factors, again common to the Premier League as a whole. The age of spectators at Premier League games has been rising steadily for some time. The cost is prohibitive, all seaters mean that you can’t just turn up and sit with your mates and trips have to be planned months in advance with almost military precisions. You can’t decide any longer to ring your pals, tip up on the day, plonk down 7s 6d and sing your heart out for the lads. Fact is, most of the end in the old days were young.

It’s not all bad. Spurs fans are remarkably loyal. Also, the 1882 movement and their Fighting Cock site are a group of mostly younger fans who not only understand their heritage, they want to continue it by, in their words, singing “as loud and as long as our lungs will let us. We want to hark back to the days before the Premier League where how loud you sing and how passionate you became wasn’t dependent on how well Tottenham were playing.” As I’ve said, that may be a rose-tinted view of the past but no matter and all power to them. They have had discussions with the club about block ‘singing sections’ for certain games, mostly outside the first team but it has included one European tie, I think. The Tottenham Trust also hope to raise the issue.

It’s a welcome development, even though the whinging is not a new phenomenon. It is hard to see what changes could be made with the ground as it is. I would be in favour of shifting the away fans but I assume safety considerations plus disruption to our season ticket holders in all parts of the ground would make it impossible. Designated singing blocks are a fine idea, perhaps including the southern corner of the Shelf near the old cage. The new stadium has an ‘end’ built in and has been designed to keep the stands as close to the pitch as possible. All the more reason to press ahead as soon as we can.

The elongated format saps the energy of fans and players alike but Spurs have done their best to inject much-needed drama into the competition. Barely able to muster a consistent, coherent performance throughout, save for a silky smooth dissection of Inter Milan at the Lane, instead we opted for the tension born from brinkmanship with desperate surges for late goals in half of the ties. That we got them says much for the determination of the squad and the individual talents of men like Bale and Dembele who delivered their best football when under the greatest pressure, the mark of greatness. Their late goals home and away versus Lyon were remarkable.

Yet it all ended in a moment of tragic comedy. In the grip of a penalty shoot-out, one down after Hud’s poorly placed opener was too close to the keeper, our only striker, experienced in European and international football, chooses to approach his penalty with a silly walk last seen in my primary school playground when we finally got tired of 3 and in and began to muck about before the bell rang. My mate Trev was the best. He would have wanted to improve on Adebayor’s style but it would have got a few giggles. Into the sky and over, Spurs were out. I’m certain that somewhere on the net Spurs fans will be slating Manu’s smile as he walked away as a sign of his indifference but I’m with him: you have to laugh or else you’d cry.

Spurs fans are used to the side raising their game for cup matches but in Europe ours fell away. Apart from Inter at home when on the back of the north London derby win, anything suddenly, miraculously seemed possible, we’ve not put in a consistent effort. Lax defending and an inability to retain possession characterised several dull games.

The league format means that it doesn’t really matter – stagger through, there’s no incentive to reach the heights – but these faults became real problems against better teams in the knock-out phase.

Monday’s piece posed the question, ’is it only us?’ in respect of Spurs’ faltering league form but it applies equally well to Europe and last night – is it only Spurs who do things the hard way? The match was classic Tottenham, that mixture of quality and frustration that entices and infuriates us all. It was also this European campaign in microcosm. Commitment aplenty, an inability to keep control of a match once it has been established, ‘WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?’ defending, wayward passing, high drama and telling late goals.

We weathered an early storm from the classy Basel attack and established if not dominance then a measure of possession and therefore control. We went a goal up, a calm finish from Dempsey after a defensive mistake. This was naturally an incentive to immediately forget about careful build up and give the ball away at will. Dembele made the fatal mistake, a basic error in midfield letting in the excellent Salah. One each just at the point when we should have exploited our lead and territorial superiority. Instead, we were determined not to keep the ball and the defence was wilting. Naughton got near his man only by fouling while Dawson appeared to believe he was on holiday at a water park, competing to see how far he could slide on the soggy turf.

We can’t defend corners – episode four or is it five? A cluster of defenders were sucked into the near post and taken out of the game when the ball was flicked on. Friedel had no cover when he parried and the Swiss touched it in.

But this is Tottenham in Europe. Pressing unconvincingly, Huddlestone placed a fine free-kick onto Dempsey’s chest and he did the rest. The commentary churlishly focused on defensive shortcomings but the American scored a fine goal that hopefully will give him confidence for the rest of the season.

It was our mess and we almost got ourselves out of it. Despite their shortcomings, I have to admire the attitude of the players in battling out extra time while running on empty, especially after Vertonghen’s tired mind forced a mistake that led to a justified red card. Mentions in dispatches for Daws, Walker and Hudd, the latter for sterling work as a makeshift centre half in Jan’s place.

Lewis Holtby had his best game for Tottenham in the centre of midfield where he belongs. He worked hard, kept his position and took responsibility when he had. Something similar may be said of the highly promising Tom Carroll, who understands what is required of him despite his lack of experience and never shirked his duties for a second. Finally, I must give Dempsey full credit for his two goals. He’s been rank lately and deserves to be praised.

Ten days off now, a much-needed chance to draw breath and rest weary limbs. I suggest Dembele is ferried around in the manner of an Egyptian pharaoh, not having to lift a finger. He needs a break more than anyone and will be crucial if we are to make the top four. Our Andre has shown he’s able to raise the team’s energy and spirits after a defeat. We still have so much to play for.

Before yesterday’s match I was listening to Jon Ronson, whose engaging fascination for the human condition makes for fine radio. It proved to be timely because his subject was confirmation bias, the phenomenon where people have a tendancy to look for information that confirms their own beliefs. We are selective in the way we interpret the mass of information that comes our way and/or we interpret it in a biased way.

Ronson’s curiosity was aroused by a throwaway conversation with his young son. He happened to remark that whenever he looked at the clock, it always said ’11.11′. You might think Ronson is going barmy, after all he is an Arse**l fan, but turns out, many people attribute some significance to 11.11. Who else to interview but Uri Geller, who goes all the way, choosing a random series of important historical figures only to find their names have eleven letters, and so on. It’s not escaped your attention that football teams have eleven players and this is an article about a football match…

I tend to think that most football fans are pretty much the same. We squeeze our manboobs and paunches into different colour shirts but underneath that thin layer of high-tech polyester, we think the same way about the game and about our teams. We want our teams to succeed so desperately yet simultaneously fear the consequences to the point where we refuse to believe it will happen. Last month a caller to Danny Baker’s show recounted the time he visited East Stirling for a cup-tie. Playing vastly inferior opponents, the home side had gone 12-0 up when they nearly conceded. A gruff old Scot at pitchside muttered darkly, “Not again East Stirling, don’t throw it away now.’

If this blog achieves anything, it’s because it is reasonable and reasonably balanced. Which means lots of folk detest it. But confirmation bias is a powerful force. Wikipedia says that, “The effect is stronger for emotionally charged issues and for deeply entrenched beliefs.” I think that’s supporting Spurs covered, so who am I to resist? Snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. Always on the threshold of success. Where there’s a will, there’s a way – to balls it up. It’s all too familiar.

So I’d like to think this fatalism is confirmation bias rather than inbred into the Spurs supporting genes. It’s about nurture not nature, after all. I’m convinced fans of other teams say the same. I’ve never met a fan yet who is totally happy about their team going one up in the first minute even though we all say an early goal will settle things down. Except Man U fans – do they complain if they go a goal down early? Really – I’d like to know. Can they actually be worried in the slightest? Do they fear this is the day it finally all crumbles after twenty or more years of unbroken achievement?

Evidence. The evidence yesterday was that not only did we score after a minute, it was divine in its simplicity. Prem player of the month Jan Vertonghen’s cross curled so perfectly round the highly organised Everton defence, so precisely in between the keeper and back four, so nicely onto Manu’s foot, even he could not miss. He was just the right man too – this would give him the confidence to play to the best of his considerable ability. We needed the edge in this most crucial of matches. With injuries, a win over an able Everton side would be our best performance of the season.

We set up well, or rather  what you now realise I mean is, we set up in the way I wanted us to. With Holtby central and Parker hanging back, we could be strong in the middle (Everton don’t have wingers) and release Dembele, our best player, to roam further forward. I would have started Carroll in place of Dempsey. Despite his inexperience, his pass and move works for us. However, we didn’t keep the tempo high or press up the pitch until later, by which time our opponents had established their rhythm and come back into the match. I can’t recall Howard having to make a save worthy of the name until well into the second half.

We can’t defend corners, but the goals we have conceded recently have been different. This one was loopy to the far post where Jagielka beat Vertonghen, Lloris was a fraction too far off his line and the dribbly header somehow rolled in. A waste but Everton were looking more dangerous in general. Belatedly we pressed higher up the field and looked better for it.

The second half – you decide. We rose to the challenge after conceding and scored a deserved late equiliser. Or, try as we might we weren’t good enough to break down a resolute Ever ton defence, our shooting from long range served only to as an indication of our desperation and we were lucky to get the break for the goal.

Dawson is rubbish – so say many on the boards this weekend. Pulled all over the place – where was he for the goals? Dawson had a decent game – made several immense tackles and interceptions and with Caulker not much of an influence, did so much to keep us in the game. Me, I go for the latter, but then again I want him to do well because he’s honest, inspiring and dedicated to my club.  I also think Mirelles deserves credit for a fine goal, although I suspect we gave the ball away to let him in, which was the truly frustrating problem yesterday and most players were guilty. Walker did a couple of crazy, mindless passes. Check for colour-blindness, I would.

The season’s turning point? Straight after the goal, Dembele’s low shot took a deflection and Howard saved well, pushing it up on the bar and away. It seemed to represent a portent for things to come – so near yet so far. Safe to say I wasn’t at my brightest at this juncture.

Wingers aren’t a necessity but goodness me how we missed Bale and Lennon. No pace, no wit. Siggy can’t beat anyone – not his fault, not his game but hugely frustrating as we lost the ball time and time again. Instead as Everton circled the wagons, we huffed and puffed around their defensive shield without ever breaking through into the box. Back and forth, ending in impatient and invariably inaccurate long shots. I haven’t checked but I bet our attack stats look excellent – anyone who watched the whole match knows the real story. The half was conveniently summed up by two impeccable passes from Huddlestone, 50 then 40 yards, both to Siggy, both were miscontrolled and the ball lost.

Dembele was taken off to general astonishment. He had been our best player by a street and that street was the M1. Our Andre had lost it, or so it seemed, but it emerged he had a had a knock/was knackered. Hud’s cameo was chock full of Hoddle-esque long passes. If only he could pick up the pace of the modern game, As it was, he had an extra yard because Everton did not press him, and he looked a world-beater.

Walker got a lot wrong but in the second half did the job of two players, a full-back and a winger, and he played himself into the ground. If Everton had won the game through the needless free-kick he gave away late on, I daresay I might have been less charitable, but he set up our second and Baines seldom got at us. On the other flank, Vertonghen should have attacked more. After early promise, Holtby has not been able to influence games to any great extent but we need patience, a quality in short supply when it comes to Dempsey’s performances. A while ago I thought he had turned the corner but lately he’s been appalling, unable to get anything right andplaying with little connection with his team-mates. When he played for Fulham, he didn’t used to panic and shoot aimlessly from long-range.

Manu had his best game for I don’t know how long, excellent in the second half. If there were to be a breakthrough, it had to come from him and so it proved. He pulled away from his markers and hit the post, the rebound falling to Siggy who tucked it in coolly.

Not sure how this came over to you at home but very frustrating at the ground. Still, while they should not have been in this situation, the players kept going for a deserved draw, and that could not have been said about many Spurs of the past. We know the truth about this side: if everyone is fit we are a match for anyone in this league. But they aren’t. The break after the Basle return is welcome. Perhaps we Spurs fans find some skewed, distorted comfort in the frustration of what might have beens but I for one am happy for the team to come up with some cold hard evidence to the contrary.

Careless of Sunderland to miss that fascist thing during the interview process for their new manager. Guess Di Canio omitted it from his C.V. The club seem genuinely surprised that it’s cropped up and unprepared for the almighty stench it’s caused.

Yesterday on twitter, the consensus among journalists after the press conference was that their media/PR people had managed it poorly, therefore it would not now go away. I’m not entirely sure about this: how exactly can fascism be airbrushed out of existence? Public relations seems an odd world at the best of times but even a sceptic such as myself would take my hat off to any PR rep who could convince me that there is an alternative, anodyne interpretation of this photo. An audition for the next Right Guard campaign just won’t cut it. A fan behaving in this way would be banned and rightly so. I could not conceive of any defence in mitigation.

Di Canio’s appointment is part of a wider and disturbing trend where football clubs actively insulate themselves from what’s going on around them in society. They do so at their peril.

Like any complex individual, Di Canio has many sides to his personality. An intelligent, driven man, his passion for the game in general and for English football is particular is wholly authentic. Alongside this are his fascist convictions. You can’t have one without the other. Yet the chairmen of first Swindon Town and now Sunderland wish to indulge in a personality pick ‘n mix. In order to justify their dubious employment policies, they are attempting to redefine the political frame of reference with a new creation, the fascist who is not a racist. There is no evidence of Di Canio discriminating against individual black people, for example, why, some are even team-mates and friends. Therefore we have the likeable, friendly and personable fascist. He works hard, he is an effective leader, he treats all the players on their merits. Forget the salutes, the Mussolini tattoo, his own words describing himself as a fascist which he has failed to retract or qualify despite being given ample opportunity to do so. Good old Paolo, the nicest fascist you could ever wish to meet.

In passing, the same things were said about Mussolini, Hitler and Franco, where many in their respective countries said that while they did not agree with the extreme politics, their leaders had the interests of the people at heart. It’s what fascist leaders do.

However, it’s expedient for Sunderland to take one part of Di Canio without the other. It suits them to ignore abhorrent political beliefs because they need a guy who can kick tuchas. Staying in the Premier League is all that matters.

There are other examples of this trend, the most notable being Chelsea’s apparent inability to confront allegations of racism against their captain John Terry, condoned by Roy Hodgson’s willingness to just get on with football irrespective of other considerations.  Part of the game’s enduring appeal is its escapism. For ninety minutes, the game is our world with its own rules and customs. We shout, sometimes abuse, we sing, we’re tribal and are uplifted by the experience, only to scuttle away at the final whistle to the humdrum ordinariness of our lives. But that’s no excuse for going too far, for fans or for clubs.

Football mirrors society however much it wishes it could escape. Like society, the game is grappling with racism on and off the pitch. In my view, in Britain we have moved forward significantly in my lifetime but there is much still to do and absolutely no room for complacency. Sunderland, Swindon and Chelsea are holding us back. Kick It Out except when we need the points and profits.

At this point, I should add that I have no axe to grind against Sunderland. Because this is on a blog about another football team, that’s what many people will believe but it is not true. On the contrary, I admire their loyalty and envy the passion of their fans in a one club city, unlike me as a wandering Londoner. They don’t deserve this.

Clubs are becoming increasingly alienated from their fans, especially in the Premier League. We are worried about where the money goes in the recession, they put the prices up when their income from TV is at stratospheric levels. We devote our time and energy to the team, they treat us as if we are extras to provide context and atmosphere. The board do not appear to have consulted anyone about the implications of this appointment, least of all their supporters. The apparent bewilderment and unpreparedness of the Sunderland hierarchy is another instance of how distant they are, their response shows that to them, this distance simply does not matter and in that respect they are no different from most Premier League clubs.

Like I say, football is part of society. For us, the ordinary, the employed, we transgress and there are consequences. I am a really nice person but if I mentioned at work that I was a fascist, or indeed bullied and assaulted a staff member as that nice Mr Di Canio did at Swindon, I would be out on my ear with little chance of another job in my profession. However, it seems that these days others face fewer consequences. Politicians are disgraced, lie low for a bit and back they come. Post Leveson, Brooks leaves the NOTW with a pay-off rumoured to be £7m, although of course she has not been found guilty of any criminal offence. Morgan sacked at the Mirror, now a celebrity interviewer. There’s a worrying trend that for some there are no consequences. Perhaps after all football understands that it is part of society all too well.