Slipperduke
The Camden Cad
I have to confess to a guilty pleasure. I love Peter Crouch. I really do. I don't want to go and choose curtains with him, you understand, or look into civil partnerships or anything like that. No, my affection towards him is more of a paternal love. When fortunes turn against him, it burns me up inside. I want only good things to happen to him, I delight in his happiness, I swell with pride every time he shyly acknowledges another goal, always looking first to thank the player who passed to him. That's why I'm ecstatic that he's signed for Tottenham.
Crouch is such a beautiful contradiction. As comfortable in his body as a stilt-walker on an ice-rink, he seems perpetually surprised at the length of his limbs. It's as if he was fine yesterday, but he went to bed and woke up two foot taller. He never looks like he has the ball under control but, more often than not, his first touch will snatch it out of the air and suck into his instep. He's a very talented and clever footballer, cursed to look clumsy. He can score goals as well. The flying scissor-kick that invited so much ridicule in the 2006 World Cup has been refined and put to good use since. There aren't many who can get higher than him in the air and his composure has been proved so often that we shouldn't really be surprised by it anymore.
I say all of this now because I fear that Tottenham fans may have forgotten. The reaction to his arrival at White Hart Lane has been a little underwhelming, which is a dreadful shame. Crouch is just what Spurs need. He's got the size to hold the ball up in the final third and the guile to distribute it exactly where his strike-partner wants it. With Jermaine Defoe at Portsmouth, this 'very little and very large' combination looked potent. With the tenacious and inventive Robbie Keane, it could be even better. After a confused transfer policy left them with forwards who couldn't play together, Spurs finally have some shape about them and the depth to survive a season
But Crouch is more than the sum of his talents. He is a welcome return to a time when footballers had realistic opinions of themselves. While John Terry speaks about himself in the third person and Cristiano Ronaldo describes himself as the top three players in the world, Crouch is just a normal bloke. He is extraordinarily self-aware for his industry. After all, who else in the game would respond to an interviewer's question, "what would you be if you weren't a professional footballer?" with the answer, "a virgin." He has character as well. Dogged by chants of 'freak' wherever he goes, he never lets his head drop. This isn't his first time at White Hart Lane either. He was a trainee in the 90s, but was sold to Queens Park Rangers for a pittance when the coaches decided that he'd never make the grade. He's back to prove a point and who would bet against him succeeding?
Tottenham are on to a winner here. Crouch brings goals, but he also brings a bit of class. With the chasing pack falling over themselves to compete with the elite top four, this is a signing that puts Harry Redknapp's side back into contention. With a bit of luck, it will only be a matter of time before the Spurs fans love him as much as I do.
Crouch is such a beautiful contradiction. As comfortable in his body as a stilt-walker on an ice-rink, he seems perpetually surprised at the length of his limbs. It's as if he was fine yesterday, but he went to bed and woke up two foot taller. He never looks like he has the ball under control but, more often than not, his first touch will snatch it out of the air and suck into his instep. He's a very talented and clever footballer, cursed to look clumsy. He can score goals as well. The flying scissor-kick that invited so much ridicule in the 2006 World Cup has been refined and put to good use since. There aren't many who can get higher than him in the air and his composure has been proved so often that we shouldn't really be surprised by it anymore.
I say all of this now because I fear that Tottenham fans may have forgotten. The reaction to his arrival at White Hart Lane has been a little underwhelming, which is a dreadful shame. Crouch is just what Spurs need. He's got the size to hold the ball up in the final third and the guile to distribute it exactly where his strike-partner wants it. With Jermaine Defoe at Portsmouth, this 'very little and very large' combination looked potent. With the tenacious and inventive Robbie Keane, it could be even better. After a confused transfer policy left them with forwards who couldn't play together, Spurs finally have some shape about them and the depth to survive a season
But Crouch is more than the sum of his talents. He is a welcome return to a time when footballers had realistic opinions of themselves. While John Terry speaks about himself in the third person and Cristiano Ronaldo describes himself as the top three players in the world, Crouch is just a normal bloke. He is extraordinarily self-aware for his industry. After all, who else in the game would respond to an interviewer's question, "what would you be if you weren't a professional footballer?" with the answer, "a virgin." He has character as well. Dogged by chants of 'freak' wherever he goes, he never lets his head drop. This isn't his first time at White Hart Lane either. He was a trainee in the 90s, but was sold to Queens Park Rangers for a pittance when the coaches decided that he'd never make the grade. He's back to prove a point and who would bet against him succeeding?
Tottenham are on to a winner here. Crouch brings goals, but he also brings a bit of class. With the chasing pack falling over themselves to compete with the elite top four, this is a signing that puts Harry Redknapp's side back into contention. With a bit of luck, it will only be a matter of time before the Spurs fans love him as much as I do.
