For lovers of the chicken badge of Tottenham Hotspur FC
We’re gonna win the tie, We’re gonna win the tie
Please close your eyes.
Picture Harry Kane, in our red away kit, blue Captain’s armband, standing opposite Vladimir in exactly 12 days’ time.
No, No, Close your eyes again. I know this is tough, really tough, but stick with it.
Putin says something magnanimous and congratulatory. “Well Done, you deserve it. Especially you.”
As they parade round the pitch, there’s a moment when all of our lads are together. Kaneinho, Eric, Dele, Danny, Tripps (not you, Bonzo) and they’ve got the precious in their hands.
OK, you’re back in the room. You’re now a non-smoker and you’re absolutely going to lose that weight.
But first things first. Colombia. They are totally going to mess with our heads, but these are young heads…maybe they can’t be messed with so much (I have a concern about Harry Maguire – looks like he might get a bit riled up). Maybe there won’t be any brain freezing as there was against Iceland. They looked like they’d downed a collective Slush Puppy all in one that night.
Tonight is the night. Biggest game of their lives so far.
Ron wrote this snippet a while back about his memories of early days supporting England:
“I went up to Scotland, I was about 13 or 14. It was the early sixties; it was a gift from my Dad. Hampden, like 100,000 fans, it seemed anyway. We had 6 players picked for that day. 3 on each Scotland and England but Mackay was injured (What Bremner could never do, of all things, boils did. I never understood that anyway) Bill Brown and John White made up our Scottish contingent and Greaves, Norman and Henry our English (its a faint memory anyway). I think it was a 1-1 draw.
The empty bottles of scotch rained down on us mind you.”
It’s this kind of dewy-eyed youthful exuberance we need. A time when people really were grateful for gruel, instead of sneering at it.
A blog dedicated to aficionados of the chicken badge of Tottenham Hotspur FC, unashamedly revelling in the agony and ecstasy of every moment of every game....no matter who finds themselves fortunate enough, in any given season, to be the stewards, manager or players of the best club in the world. COYFS!
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