Football likes nothing better than endless updates and the way the game has gone, even a player with ‘a paltry’ 3 years left on his contract is fair game for transfer speculation.
Before we add to the mood music here, let’s introduce some actual facts. These will undoubtedly only serve to irritate those wishing to throw themselves headlong into hysteria.
Toby Aderwwiereld’s contract is good, or at least exists until 2020. People demanding to know what he’s planning to do, has some legitimacy. With less than a two year buffer, compensating Spurs for the remainder wouldn’t be prohibitive.
Gladys told us a few weeks ago that a new deal was to be announced.
Toby’s injury situation has subsequently dragged on.
The 28 year old who like all of us is another year older this year, started off with a hamstring injury which officially ran from 01/11/17 to 05/02/18, which in the old money is 3 months.
Since then we’ve had a couple of decidedly indifferent attempts at a return via the FA cup (where Toby played all 180 minutes).
Poch told SpursTV:
“Everyone is okay, although Toby didn’t finish the training session yesterday and we need to assess him tomorrow. Like I said before, after the process of a big injury he needs time to recover his form and of course we are going to help.
“We hope it’s not a big issue and that he can be available if not this weekend, for the next game.”
The Times ran the same day with the story that the new deal was being hampered by wage demands. The monies cited were an offered £110,000 per week versus a demanded £150,000.
Was the ITK wrong? That’s plausible. ITK by its very nature no more than channel for what one hopes to be educated gossip. Was the piece in the Times spurious? Is Pochettino lying? The Bible has probably sold several billion copies and it’s wall to wall guano (wanna debate that then just tell me which page the dinosaurs are on). Life is hard and it seems you might not be able to trust anyone at all.
What’s more important than tea ladies, missing dinosaurs et al, is what the Bald Weirdo does next.
Conspiracy theories abound and Poch talking up the competency of other defenders is immediately interpreted and spin to cushion the blow.
All we’ve had from our great
leader failure is the usual corporate speak ambiguity about not selling players we wish to keep. In other news, humans try not to contract terminal illnesses.
Tottenham Hotspur Football Club has degenerated before our eyes under ENIC from being a football club that tried and occasionally won stuff, to being a soul harvesting device for people who remember fondly when it used to be a football club that tried and occasionally won stuff.
Worse yet, the fanbase is plagued with toxic little nerds who are either feigning delight over the business’ net spend record as some sort of demented defence mechanism – or are genuinely in need of psychiatric help.
Worser still, Spurs have taken on a debt the size of small planet in order to flog ‘Match Day Experiences’ to more people than they had previously ever dreamed of.
Any suspicions that the actual football will continue to take a back seat enhancing the revenue streams have already been confirmed. First teamer Kyle Walker quit and erstwhile first teamer Danny Rose has gone to seed.
If Spurs can’t retain the services of their very best players then the situation is much darker than the vagaries of online gossip and wanting to slip say 25mils of sodium-pentothal into Poch’s tea.
Clubs need their best footballers in order to win things and clubs that don’t win things cannot shower their players with market rate money and honours. Which is all they want.
Wanna debate that, then just ask Bonzo what motivated his departure from London to Manchester, was it the money, the honour of winning the Premier League or the flagship Build A Bear Workshop in the Trafford Centre? Maybe he’s a bad example.
Bottom line is that no matter who Levy sells next, the jaundiced fans will always be outweighed by those that will pretty much put up with pretty much anything.
I took a call this morning and was offered a corporate at Wembley and heard myself saying ‘sure, why not, I’ll look at the fixtures’. Put the phone down and asked myself, what that flip was I thinking? It would seem not one of us are immune to the wretched tractorbeam.