I'll be honest with you. In all my years as a Spurs fan, coming up on 25, I have probably never been so disinterested in the goings-on at my so-called 'beloved' club. We are told about the exciting times ahead, wonderkid signings are drawn to Spurs Lodge like Sénor Ramos was the Paella Pied Piper himself, another 3 new shirts would soon be stretched around my ever-growing gut, there's a Carling Cup Winners title to defend and that ever-present talk of how to break into the top 4 and finally gorge ourselves on the feast at the top table.
And yet here I am, completely underwhelmed at it all for the first time. This, from a Yid who was genuinely excited when told signings like Sullivan, Tramezzani, Kerslake, Calderwood, Perry, Sherwood, Acimovic, Blondel, Fox... (I've got to stop, I don't know if these are tears of laughter or despair) ...were worthy to wear the cockeral on their breast. I did the whole 'being a Yid in the 90's' thing and I survived, though emotionally battered, the barren spell between our two cups of that decade. But only for another carpet of dust to land where the trophies should be until the moment Jonathan Woodgate rose highest and once more, the rollercoaster ride continued.
As with a rollercoaster the last paragraph leaves me a little sick. The lows dragged for years, the highs were the occasional days. Did we peak again last February? Certainly our players believed they could take it easy for the remainder of the season, the only duty they seemed capable of fulfilling was to give interviews reassuring us that they would fulfill all of their duties. Yeah, thanks for that, great read. I'm ready to consign that faltering end of season to the less glamourous pages of our history books now and apologise to those who had already done so. Attentions were quickly turned to all of the expectations I listed at the top, another wind of change was blowing through the corridors of Spurs Lodge. One that leaves me cold despite the obvious ground Mr Levy and Co. have made up in the last few years.
And why? Like a mistreated pet rescued by the RSPCA and passed onto to a new, seemingly caring, family, I should really cower in the corner until I'm sure it's safe to some out. I shouldn't invest my all into the benefits of this new lease of life because, as mentioned, I have all too often been left battered, cold and sick by the hope a new dawn brings. Unfortunately, there is no getting away from being a football fan, not in the long run. My season ticket has been renewed once more, I've taken the bait. So before I trust Spurs to finally get it right I'm taking a backseat. A break from the transfer rumours. My new home shirt that I got as a birthday present sits in a drawer at home, worn on the day I got it but unused since. I dip in and out of Euro 2008 games so my footballing clean slate does not become tarnished with thoughts of putting a bid in for David Villa. I allowed myself to have a look at the YouTube footage of Giovani Dos Santos but only when the transfer was officially announced.
Like the Irish and British players in our squad, I'm going to be returning to pre-season refreshed after a long summer break and it will be at that moment when I fully expect the new season to shower me with the kind of hope, enthusiasm and promise that it did 20 years ago. The wrongs done to me and fellow Spurs fans will once more be forgotten, wrongly or rightly, and my trust will be offered up to those who wear the shirt. I sure as hell hope they deliver.
Damn them anyway, despite my reservations, the excitement is already beginning to take a grip. I'm off to try on my shirt again.