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In The 16th Century He Would Have Been Dunked

By The Boy -

If you heard a strange sort of uncomfortable shunting noise emanating from the bowels of the earth recently, don’t be be concerned. It was just our old friend Tim Sherwood turning in his grave.

Winning is all. Anything that isn’t winning isn’t progress or any other perversion of the truth. Not winning is a set of wood-effect steak knife purgatory clutched to the chests of the weak that to prove to themselves that they didn’t lose.

Like Villas-Boas, Pochettino is a winner. The Argentine’s overall win percentage is now better than Reptile Timmy’s  and is not just snapping at the heels of Andre’s but looking certain to overtake it.

More importantly, the style of Mauricio’s football hasn’t divided the fanbase.

AVB was up against it of course. There was a hardcore of our support that would have refused to ‘get over’ the whole Chelsea reject thing, no matter what he did. Their relief to get a proper manager wot spoke the Queens’ when Tim slithered into pole position was palpable.

Pochettino only had to counter his own stubbornness, which life ultimately helped him with by almost forcing his hand to play 3 at the back.

Both Poch and AVB had another problem to overcome. Levynomics.

Where Villas-Boas refused to persist with banging his head against a wall freshly urinated up by both Adebayor and Benny The Anti-Semite, Pochettino made a conscious decision to put up with with all manner of insane penny pinching in order to pursue his philosophy.

Levy was forced to compromise with the Ade and the other rat; which sounds like a run of the mill fait accompli, but then Levy doesn’t do compromise. He smiles uncomfortably, thanks everyone for coming and leaves the room.

This was as close to a seminal act of contrition as your ever likely to witness from El Baldo.

Pochettino’s intensity of belief in the players sign to train, the team ethos being greater than the individual has made for pretty thin food and drink for him until a little over halfway through this season when things seemed to finally click.

I’ve provided some muted praise for Poch this term and for good reason. Anyone as complicit with the lunacy of not putting the football first when running a Premier League football club deserves to be treated with more than a pinch of suspicion.

Any strategy that – even by default – prioritises the coffers, puts commercials above cups will only ever be greeted by me with distain.

Spurs used to be on their way to Wembley on a semi irregular regular basis when they first caught my imagination.

Now we cut out the middle-man and simply hire the gaff.

Why bother finding a woman you adore, woo her and learn to love her when you can just rent a hooker, have your jollies, take a shower and still be home in time for tea and medals?

Dopamine is now dispensed in the form of contract extensions for players who might do something tangible before somebody dies.

There was a time when we’d snap up a couple of World Cup winners and win pots of our own with them.

Pochettino however is proving that he’s so good, he’s such an excellent coach, he can do well without the backing of a chairman. This isn’t just a dig at Levy, it’s far more important than that.

Son is a flake, an attacking winger, absolutely not a striker, who now when he gets the odd goal is asking himself if there isa hat-trick to be had.

Delle Ali is a diversity poster boy for Kevin The Teenager and yet this finger trick obsessive has already matched Steve Gerrard’s best goalscoring tariff.

Harry Kane escaped a glitch in the space-time loan continuum and became a thoroughbred striker under Pochettino.

The evidence to accuse Pochettino of witchcraft is piling up. In the 16th Century Poch would have been dunked.

Despite having Clinton Cards, NoCluedo and Moussa Sissoko inflicted upon him, despite Erik Lamela being a mystery to modern science, despite of all this seismic stupidities, Spurs aren’t just lucking a top 4 finish, Spurs are finishing the season in emphatic style.

As Poch inevitably knocks Villas-Boas’ win percentage into a cocked hat, the next step is to win something.

Even the most ardent would-be auditor, the Flatest Flat Earther, would have to acknowledge that will absolutely require better attention paid to the footballing side of the business.

The consequences of not doing so are available to watch on YouTube as Arenal fans beat up Arsenal fans.

What’s not up for debate, is that right ‘in this moment’, we could not be in better hands than Mauricio’s.

But if he doesn’t win anything – I say we dunk him all the same.

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