Good Job Daniel - We Forgive You

Article by Philip Rowlands

As the bus pulled onto the Yellow Brick Road (M4) the excitement grew. We were off to the Emerald City to watch our beloved wizards of White Hart Lane repel Charlie Adam (Boo! Hiss!) and his marauding red hordes. My pal Gerry recalled old friends and past glories. In days gone by he would have been met by Mel Hopkins, a Rhondda boy who during the 1954 World Cup blunted the threat of the mighty Brazilian Garrincha. Sadly he played no part in the Glory Glory season after a clash of heads with Ian St John, during a Wales v Scotland international, rearranged Mel’s facial geography.

More recently the imperious Cliff Jones would meet with Gerry and entertain him in the Legends Lounge until kick off. Sadly Cliff is not always able to make it these days but a delighted Gerry informed me someone had nobly stepped up to fill the breach. Apparently Daniel Levy is highly regarded at Tottenham. I checked him out on my iPhone but he doesn’t seem to have quite made the squad yet. Still, it was jolly decent of the club to provide a substitute host.

Imagine our disappointment when upon alighting from the coach there was no one there to greet us. Fortunately one of our travelling companions revealed that we would most likely find Daniel down the ‘Bill Nick’. Gerry and I were shocked to discover the ‘Bill Nick’ was a drinking establishment. We resolved to have a quiet word in Daniel’s ear. The last thing the boy needed was to be found in a watering hole before kick off. It could obviously have disastrous consequences for his budding career at Tottenham. We are not known as ‘the Lilywhites’ for nothing! Besides, it was the least we could do as loyal Spurs supporters.

Gerry and I both agreed we had never seen such a packed pub in our lives. It probably would have presented a daunting prospect for lesser men but ‘to dare is to do’, as we say at Spurs, so we plunged headlong into the melee. Forty five minutes later we caught sight of the bar. A gap appeared and we squeezed through. I must confess the bartender’s response to our request to point out which of his clientele was Daniel Levy was not what we anticipated. In some circles it would probably be considered as distinctly offensive. Nevertheless we displayed admirable maturity by not responding in kind and instead ordered two pints, incontinence pads not withstanding.

Our faith in humanity was restored almost immediately when one of the regulars tapped us on the shoulder.

“You looking for Danny boy mate?” he inquired.

We both nodded.

“You’ve just missed him. He had to nip back up the Lane to finish marking the lines. Said he’d catch up with you half time for a pie and a pint.”

Suddenly everything became crystal clear. Of course! Trainees were expected to undertake menial duties and evidently Daniel had been assigned this particular task. We had obviously misjudged the boy. I was about to suggest we make our way to the ground when Gerry leaned over and whispered in my ear. For the second time in a matter of minutes I felt thoroughly ashamed of myself.

The whole time we had been fighting to get to the bar a scantily clad young lady had been attempting to climb a brass pole. Gerry and I assumed she had been taking down the Christmas trimmings and had been surprised by the sudden influx of customers. It was a Sunday after all. The humidity generated by a mass of overheated bodies had caused severe condensation and no matter how hard she tried, and believe me nobody could have tried harder, she kept slipping back down the pole. No-one appeared to be interested in offering her any assistance. Given the milling throng a ladder was out of the question. Gerry suggested the next time she slid down the pole we give her a hand.

I am still perplexed as to why we were ejected. People can be very ungrateful. Shaking the dust from our feet Gerry and I made our way towards Holy Ground. What a first half! From our vantage point high in the South Stand we watched Dembele prowl the pitch like a latter day colossus while Paulinhio emerged from his chrysalis to produce moments of sheer Brazilian magic. Shaken from his slumber Adebayor moved with a graceful menace and we sensed the shades of Blanchflower and White nod their approval. When the penalty was awarded we had no doubt that Soldado would supply the clinical finish of a natural born assassin. Half time arrived all too soon and the crowd moved towards the exits for refreshment and relief. How many, I wondered, even noticed the work of the unsung heroes. Daniel had made a first class job of marking the pitch. If the team had produced a glorious work of footballing art then Daniel had provided them with the perfect frame. Every line was as straight as a dye although Gerry did point out that one of the flags was a bit wonky. A real perfectionist is Gerry.

However it seems Fate and Aaron Lennon were destined to keep us from meeting. Gerry and I both made the mistake of trying to track Lennon’s mazy and electrifying runs. It was lucky we had the foresight to bring a bottle of Wintergreen with us. Having massaged our stiff necks we made our way out for a comfort break and an assignation with Daniel over a pie and a pint. Instead we found ourselves swept away on a human tide moving inexorably towards the ‘sea’ (toilets actually – ‘sea ‘ just sounds more poetic).

* A brief note to whoever is responsible for building the new stadium. Please ensure there are sufficient loos. It is the first time in living memory I regret having waterproof pockets.

We never did get to meet Daniel. For all I know we could have been standing next to each other staring at the wall with that strange glazed expression people wear in those particular circumstances. We eventually returned to our seats.

If the first half had been wonderful the second was the stuff of dreams. Lennon’s sublime volley and Dembele’s thunderous strike sent us all into raptures. We rose as one singing our lungs out as the strains of ‘Glory Glory’ echoed around the ground. My voice appeared to be a few octaves higher than normal, and so did Gerry’s. We glanced at each other making a mental note that next time we visit the loo before applying the wintergreen. The rest of the game was slightly obscured due to severe watering of the eyes but I am assured we finished the game in great style.

On the bus home we chatted and basked in the reflected glory of a sublime performance and a well deserved victory. Our thoughts turned towards that young man who so diligently undertook his duties even if he failed to meet us off the bus. We resolved to write to Mr Sherwood and commend the young man to him. Who knows, maybe one day he will play a major role in the development of THFC, good job Daniel, we forgive you!

COYS

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