Google hoped Android to be on 1/3 of all tablets by 2011

Acheived goal of 10 million sold, but missed marketshare substantially.

The software company Oracle is suing Google over the latter's use of Oracle's intellectual property in its Android operating system, and the trial is shaping up to be an illuminating look at the inside of Google over the period in which it built up to launching its first phone.

Today, we find out that, as of July 2010, Google expected to sell 10 million Android tablets over the course of 2011, and to capture a third of the entire tablet market.

Those are big figures, given at the time there wasn't a single Android tablet available. Two years on, and it seems like the first of the goals has been achieved, but the second is a long way off. The Verge reported in February that 12 million Android tablets had been sold, a figure which doesn't count tablets like Amazon's Kindle Fire which run on the Android operating system but don't have any of the hooks into Google's software suite.

As for the marketshare target, it appears Google – or rather, Morgan Stanley, upon whose analysis the figures are based – underestimated the potential size of the tablet market. They assumed that there would be 46 million sold by the end of 2012. In fact, Apple alone has sold 67 million iPads, with two thirds of the year (including Christmas) left to go.

The path ahead doesn't look any clearer for Google in the tabloid market. Comscore today reported that more than half of all Android tablets sold in February were Kindle Fires. These tablets run Android, and are cross compatible with a number of apps, but have none of Google's proprietary software installed, and so offer the advertising giant no easy way to monetize their use. The success of the Kindle Fire would be good for Android qua open source operating system, but not so good for Android qua Google's saviour from the declining returns of search advertising.

Google has a long way to go in the tablet space, and its start can't have been helped by thinking that a sizeable market share was a fait accompli.

An Android tablet is demonstrated at CES in Las Vegas. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times