Slipperduke
The Camden Cad
We all chuckled when Jonathan Woodgate claimed that he joined Tottenham in order to have a chance of winning trophies but, appropriately enough, it was the former Middlesbrough centre-back who delivered the long-suffering club their first silverware in nine years at Wembley Stadium.
“Scoring that goal gave me one of the best feelings ever,” beamed Woodgate. “I’ve not won anything in the game so to land this trophy after beating such tough opposition is great.”
Tottenham were forced to hang on and endure a nerve-jangling period of extra-time with Chelsea peppering their goal, but this team are now made of stern stuff and they eventually crossed the finishing line for a deserved victory.
“In the last 15 minutes the players couldn’t carry on,” said Juande Ramos afterwards. “We had no option but to defend.”
When he first arrived at White Hart Lane in October, Ramos was known to be disappointed with the fitness levels of his new players and he immediately put them on a new diet and exercise regime. On some players, like Paul Robinson and Tom Huddlestone, the effect was visible within weeks, but this was the day when the expansion of energy reserves became apparent across the entire squad. Tottenham were the only team in the game in the final ten minutes of normal time, repeatedly surging across the pitch, tearing their exhausted rivals to pieces.
Wembley was ablaze with colour with almost 90,000 fans packed in for this, the 48th League Cup Final. Special flags had been left in every seat and as the kick-off approached, the arena was cut into two halves, one blue, one white, both so loud that the lid of my laptop was vibrating with their noise. The Tottenham fans made the most of the occasion, consistently outsinging their rivals. Try telling any of them that this competition doesn’t matter.
Avram Grant was savaged in the post-match press conference for his team selection and rightly so. Chelsea never looked comfortable and there was no structure to their formation. Nicolas Anelka was isolated on the left and Shaun Wright-Phillips seemed unsure of how far up field he was supposed to be. Every time he pushed up, Tottenham exploited the gap and savaged the hapless Brazilian full-back Juliano Belletti. When he ran back, Chelsea had no right flank. On the other side, Anelka saw so little of the ball that he could have sat and made daisy-chains for all the good it would have done.
When asked if his decision to try out Anelka and Didier Drogba for the first time in a Cup Final was a gamble, Grant scoffed.
“I like your question, but football is not a casino. There is no gamble here. If I don’t play them, you ask me why. If I do play them, you ask me why. They can play, they can be dangerous.”
This was a serious point that would have carried far more weight had it not been delivered by a man who, slumped in his seat as he was, looked like he’d bet everything he had on black, only to watch the ball land, inevitably on red. It wasn’t the only gamble to backfire. John Terry came in for Alex and the marking at set-pieces was substandard. Frank Lampard replaced Michael Ballack and failed to impose himself upon the game. Joe Cole, Chelsea’s most creative player, was left on the bench. Avram Grant has succeeded at Stamford Bridge so far for the simple reason that he has been a steady hand on the tiller and has left Jose Mourinho’s team to their own inertia. At Wembley, he actually had to make some calls of his own and, to the dismay of Chelsea’s fans, he got all of them wrong.
Ramos, in comparison to Grant’s crestfallen grumpiness, looked the same way he always does. Calm, composed and in control. Through his ever-present interpreter he stuck to his usual policy of handing out hastily translated platitudes, breaking character only briefly to laughingly inform us that his Tottenham players’ diet no longer restricted the consumption of champagne. “I have already had a glass with my team,” he laughed, “and you didn’t even know.”
After masterminding such an impressive victory, Ramos deserves to have a bottle of the bubbly stuff to himself. He was a serial winner in Spain with Sevilla and now he is a winner here in England with Tottenham Hotspur. With the prospect of a third UEFA Cup in a row in his sights, you can bet that he isn’t finished by a long way just yet.
Unfortunately for Grant, somewhere in this vast stadium, sat a Russian gazzilionaire who doesn’t like losing. Grant’s Chelsea were no more entertaining than Mourinho’s, but significantly they were less successful. It’s a bad combination. Grant may not think that gambles exist in football, but Roman Abrahomivic might and if he has to watch any more insipid performances like this, he may decide to bet on someone else to lead his team instead.
“Scoring that goal gave me one of the best feelings ever,” beamed Woodgate. “I’ve not won anything in the game so to land this trophy after beating such tough opposition is great.”
Tottenham were forced to hang on and endure a nerve-jangling period of extra-time with Chelsea peppering their goal, but this team are now made of stern stuff and they eventually crossed the finishing line for a deserved victory.
“In the last 15 minutes the players couldn’t carry on,” said Juande Ramos afterwards. “We had no option but to defend.”
When he first arrived at White Hart Lane in October, Ramos was known to be disappointed with the fitness levels of his new players and he immediately put them on a new diet and exercise regime. On some players, like Paul Robinson and Tom Huddlestone, the effect was visible within weeks, but this was the day when the expansion of energy reserves became apparent across the entire squad. Tottenham were the only team in the game in the final ten minutes of normal time, repeatedly surging across the pitch, tearing their exhausted rivals to pieces.
Wembley was ablaze with colour with almost 90,000 fans packed in for this, the 48th League Cup Final. Special flags had been left in every seat and as the kick-off approached, the arena was cut into two halves, one blue, one white, both so loud that the lid of my laptop was vibrating with their noise. The Tottenham fans made the most of the occasion, consistently outsinging their rivals. Try telling any of them that this competition doesn’t matter.
Avram Grant was savaged in the post-match press conference for his team selection and rightly so. Chelsea never looked comfortable and there was no structure to their formation. Nicolas Anelka was isolated on the left and Shaun Wright-Phillips seemed unsure of how far up field he was supposed to be. Every time he pushed up, Tottenham exploited the gap and savaged the hapless Brazilian full-back Juliano Belletti. When he ran back, Chelsea had no right flank. On the other side, Anelka saw so little of the ball that he could have sat and made daisy-chains for all the good it would have done.
When asked if his decision to try out Anelka and Didier Drogba for the first time in a Cup Final was a gamble, Grant scoffed.
“I like your question, but football is not a casino. There is no gamble here. If I don’t play them, you ask me why. If I do play them, you ask me why. They can play, they can be dangerous.”
This was a serious point that would have carried far more weight had it not been delivered by a man who, slumped in his seat as he was, looked like he’d bet everything he had on black, only to watch the ball land, inevitably on red. It wasn’t the only gamble to backfire. John Terry came in for Alex and the marking at set-pieces was substandard. Frank Lampard replaced Michael Ballack and failed to impose himself upon the game. Joe Cole, Chelsea’s most creative player, was left on the bench. Avram Grant has succeeded at Stamford Bridge so far for the simple reason that he has been a steady hand on the tiller and has left Jose Mourinho’s team to their own inertia. At Wembley, he actually had to make some calls of his own and, to the dismay of Chelsea’s fans, he got all of them wrong.
Ramos, in comparison to Grant’s crestfallen grumpiness, looked the same way he always does. Calm, composed and in control. Through his ever-present interpreter he stuck to his usual policy of handing out hastily translated platitudes, breaking character only briefly to laughingly inform us that his Tottenham players’ diet no longer restricted the consumption of champagne. “I have already had a glass with my team,” he laughed, “and you didn’t even know.”
After masterminding such an impressive victory, Ramos deserves to have a bottle of the bubbly stuff to himself. He was a serial winner in Spain with Sevilla and now he is a winner here in England with Tottenham Hotspur. With the prospect of a third UEFA Cup in a row in his sights, you can bet that he isn’t finished by a long way just yet.
Unfortunately for Grant, somewhere in this vast stadium, sat a Russian gazzilionaire who doesn’t like losing. Grant’s Chelsea were no more entertaining than Mourinho’s, but significantly they were less successful. It’s a bad combination. Grant may not think that gambles exist in football, but Roman Abrahomivic might and if he has to watch any more insipid performances like this, he may decide to bet on someone else to lead his team instead.
