Home News Mugs, cups, knives and cocktail sticks - a Spurs story

    I WANT to talk to you about mugs,cups, knives and cocktail sticks.

 
TO SPUR YOU ON: The Carling Cup, which is taken very seriously by Spurs, the Uefa Cup, for not-all-that-great clubs, Juande Ramos could use some superglue, and Spurs striker Jamie O'Hara demonstrates head-in-hands dreadfulness after missing a chance. 
Captured in this story of innocent kitchen utensils is the sorry tale of a wretched football team. The mug in question is a snip at £pounds;5.99, though not dishwasher-proof, mind. It's a commemorative mug: nostalgia combined with caffeine for the zingier football fan.

What could be more delightful? Manchester United sell a Champions of Europe mug, West Ham stock a Jumbo Legends Mug, Chelsea are flogging one depicting bygone FA Cup glory (it's an espresso cup).

Yet our mug is a collector's item. A rare piece crafted in affectionate memory of a Carling Cup semi-final second-leg victory against weakened opposition. Yes, after Tottenham's 5-1 win over Arsenal in January Spurs' marketing department fired up its kilns and opened its tills.

Spurs fans might as well have written 'desperate' across their foreheads and paraded past the Emirates for the pleasure of tomato-chucking Gooners. Tittering bloggers heaped Internet shame upon our heads.

Spurs have always been a cup team of course. Out and proud. League titles? Consistent excellence? Boring! But the cups these days are looking chipped, tea stains clinging to the cracks, crumbs going soggy in the bottom.

Every Carling Cup fixture brings fresh ridicule. 'You're not fielding your reserve team? Or a bunch of snotty-nosed nappy-wearing toddlers? Jees, don't you think you're taking this a little seriously?'

Every Uefa Cup campaign piles on the embarrassment.

'Hey you're a Spurs fan. How does that funny Uefa Cup format work? You're playing who? Woah, is there a cure for that?'

 
 
The Uefa Cup's a bit like Freemasonry. How you get in and what you do when you're in there are a mystery to most, but once you're inside it's kind of fun. (Probably. I took my tale of footballing inspiration to the local Masonic Lodge, but they weren't having any of it).

As Uefa Cup draws are made, the Uefa fan sits, mouse poised over flight booker website. An Eastern European venue? His eyes light up. Former communist state? Oh joy! Accessible only by ferry and mule track? He's in heaven.

To everyone else it's the competition for not-all-that-great clubs since they let the quite good clubs into the Champions League.

Shoulder blades

Not-all-that-greatness... Spurs fans can only dream of it. Mired in head-in-hands-dreadfulness, we'd give anything for a little mediocrity. If chairman Daniel Levy had kept his long knife in the kitchen drawer last season maybe we'd have had it. Maybe quite-goodness could even have been ours. But to Spurs fans' horror Martin Jol copped Levy's stainless steel between the shoulder blades.

We miss him. Uncle Martin with the funny bald head, Uncle Martin with the quaint Dutch sayings, Uncle Martin with the ability to take us to fifth spot two seasons in a row.

If anyone else at Spurs mentions waiting for new players to gel, I'll station myself at the gate to White Hart Lane and hand out free superglue. And if Juande Ramos comes past I'll ask him why his raft of newbies are still peering about the pitch trying to remember who the other blokes in white are, while Hull boss Phil Brown's are telepathic enough to beat Arsenal and climb to sixth place. Riddle me that, Juande.

Two weeks ago, I did something I've never done. I gave up my ticket to a Spurs match, because I simply couldn't face it. As Spurs drew 0-0 with Wigan, the goalies eventually leaving the pitch stiff-limbed from muscle wastage, I lay soaking up the last of the late summer sunshine in the park.

I was dozing blissfully when I heard a voice from somewhere behind me.

'What have Tottenham Hotspur and a cocktail stick got in common?' said the voice, gleefully.

'They've only got two points.'