2005 was a time of such optimism. Yes, there were terrorism bombings and James Blunt... but Tottenham stood on the brink of being GOOD again. My our big, bald Dutch maestro in charge, and team full of young, English talent, Spurs went from being laughing stocks, to serious contenders. Robbie Keane couldn't stop scoring. Mido couldn't stop falling over. Aaron Lennon couldn't cross for a toffee. But just when it looked like we had the world at our feet, one poorly chosen meal ruined it all...
It's August 1997 and Britain is full of wonder and possibility. Blair's just taken over as PM, the UK has won the Eurovision Song Contest and Spurs have just bought Ginola, Ferdinand and Jose Dominguez ("he plays on the wing-uez"). Then the season starts, Diana dies and it all goes south. Ginola sulks, Francis resigns, Calderwood can't defend (but still scores every week) and Sugar brings in Gross (avec Travelcard) and Klinsmann. We lose 6-1 to Chelsea, 4-1 to Aston Villa, 4-0 to Coventry. And just when you think it can't get any worse: Celine Dion is at number one for 647 years. It's all set up for a grandstand relegation battle where nothing but LOADS of goals away at Wimbledon will do...Oh, and let's not forget the cheeky little Italian thirty-something who comes in to run the midfield from a team in Milan.
