I give up. You win Harry. I have expressed doubts as to your abilities. I was wrong. You are the King of White Hart Lane. The President of Tottenham High Rd. The Czar of everything visible from the flagpole on the roof of the stands. Your bones will be buried in the Football Managers' Corner in St. Paul's Churchyard, and if there isn't one there should be, though not yet obviously. I urge you all to join me in giving thanks for the arrival of Saint Harry. Of which more later.
Against Preston I petitioned for Giovani and Pavlyuchenko, consistently ignored by Harry, to be given a game and the former is injured in the first ten minutes and the latter doesn't even make the bench through injury. I have doubted the selection of Crouch because it encourages us to lump the ball forward and he scores a fine hat-trick without so much a nod of his head
We barely hit a ball above knee height all match and pass our way to victory in one of those tricky ties that cast a gloom, if you lose, over everything that has gone before. We score five for the third time away in five games. We didn't even do that in the much publicised Double season of 60/61. What's not to idolise?
We are bereft of centre halves and suddenly Dawson appears like the genie from the bottle and plays as if he's never been away. Likewise Heuralho 'the cat' Gomez and Gareth 'Hoodoo' Bale. We take almost all of our chances and Preston, with Gomes' help, barely any of theirs. We win comfortably and in style and the confidence barometer hovers at 'heat-wave' for the weekend. Harry is both clever and lucky, a deadly combination.
And so let there be the joy in ranks of bloggers and posters over this sinner that has repented more than over all those in that happy 'In Harry we Trust' brigade who never doubted him from the moment he arrived and have been proved completely right. Everything he touches turns to points and what do points mean? Exactly.
The Inauguration Services for the 'In Harry We Trust' Trust will be held at the weekend at The St Francis de Sales RC church opposite the ground and, for those that can be bothered, a schlep down to Seven Sisters brings you to the South Tottenham District Synagogue where a parallel service will be held. You can wear either your ' We told you so' or your 'Watch it Jenas; you're next' badges to gain entry to either event.
Humbled, bloody and a beaten man I pause briefly to wonder what I will do now that Harry is off limits: 'N' guage Model railways; 1960's bus tickets; butterflies in Lincolnshire. None of these is as close to my heart as Tottenham.
Well, I can turn on JJ, probably another of my lost causes. Huddlestone who I have championed seems to have made it to safety but I see no hope now for Pavlyuchenko or Giovani. David Bentley, who I said couldn't be as bad as last season, was selected for this match and proved not only that he could be as bad but worse.
A lot of players have written to me and asked not to be praised or recommended and in all fairness I have to admit they have a point. But you are only as good as your next match and if we lose to Burnley..... Beat it Beelzebub: I am a newly converted Redknapp disciple and in Harry I trust.
Against Preston I petitioned for Giovani and Pavlyuchenko, consistently ignored by Harry, to be given a game and the former is injured in the first ten minutes and the latter doesn't even make the bench through injury. I have doubted the selection of Crouch because it encourages us to lump the ball forward and he scores a fine hat-trick without so much a nod of his head
We barely hit a ball above knee height all match and pass our way to victory in one of those tricky ties that cast a gloom, if you lose, over everything that has gone before. We score five for the third time away in five games. We didn't even do that in the much publicised Double season of 60/61. What's not to idolise?
We are bereft of centre halves and suddenly Dawson appears like the genie from the bottle and plays as if he's never been away. Likewise Heuralho 'the cat' Gomez and Gareth 'Hoodoo' Bale. We take almost all of our chances and Preston, with Gomes' help, barely any of theirs. We win comfortably and in style and the confidence barometer hovers at 'heat-wave' for the weekend. Harry is both clever and lucky, a deadly combination.
And so let there be the joy in ranks of bloggers and posters over this sinner that has repented more than over all those in that happy 'In Harry we Trust' brigade who never doubted him from the moment he arrived and have been proved completely right. Everything he touches turns to points and what do points mean? Exactly.
The Inauguration Services for the 'In Harry We Trust' Trust will be held at the weekend at The St Francis de Sales RC church opposite the ground and, for those that can be bothered, a schlep down to Seven Sisters brings you to the South Tottenham District Synagogue where a parallel service will be held. You can wear either your ' We told you so' or your 'Watch it Jenas; you're next' badges to gain entry to either event.
Humbled, bloody and a beaten man I pause briefly to wonder what I will do now that Harry is off limits: 'N' guage Model railways; 1960's bus tickets; butterflies in Lincolnshire. None of these is as close to my heart as Tottenham.
Well, I can turn on JJ, probably another of my lost causes. Huddlestone who I have championed seems to have made it to safety but I see no hope now for Pavlyuchenko or Giovani. David Bentley, who I said couldn't be as bad as last season, was selected for this match and proved not only that he could be as bad but worse.
A lot of players have written to me and asked not to be praised or recommended and in all fairness I have to admit they have a point. But you are only as good as your next match and if we lose to Burnley..... Beat it Beelzebub: I am a newly converted Redknapp disciple and in Harry I trust.
