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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.
Young players don’t think about the future; they blank all that from their minds as they chase after the exultation of scoring.
Spurs are a middling club doomed to end up middling – now made worse by a muddling, meddling manager. But I have been here before.
Under Pep Guardiola's watch, the club has been transformed from the butt of the joke into a footballing giant.
Four live games on Saturday, four again on Sunday. And did I watch them all? Of course I did.
Top players don't often make top managers, so Ingerlanders shouldn't look to Wayne Rooney and Steven Gerrard next.
With that square jaw, those cheekbones and piercing stare the former midfielder could be a 1930s Hollywood heart-throb.
Spurs have started tumbling again and worst of all, I fear that thanks to José, we are unlikely to celebrate St Gooner’s Day this season.
Plus as the stadiums stood silent, lots of well-loved commentary clichés have kept us amusingly distracted.
As I sit confused by the new remote, graphics and instructions on the screen, I ask myself, am I too old for new tech?
We like our players to have inner steel, perhaps that's why Theo Walcott ended up on Everton's subs bench.
