I won’t be mean about Spurs again
OPINION: For a few hours this week, it seemed like Covid and Trump could happen in the same year – surely followed by Spurs winning the league
05 November, 2020 — By Richard Osley
THERE was a moment in the early hours of Wednesday when it seemed Spurs were definitely going to win the league.
Not because it’s lucky for Spurs when the year ends in one, as it ominously does next year. Since recording a song about their lucky one-ending zodiac grid, they have won nothing of any relevance in the supposed years of rich promise. Or any other year in fact.
No, it just felt, at around 2.30am on Wednesday, when it seemed possible that Donald Trump might win another four years of telling us to inject ourselves with disinfectant (don’t do it, kids), that nothing might ever go right again. Nothing.
Covid and Trump in the same year, we might as well have had a plague of locusts, then snow, an earthquake, crocodiles emerging from the tube network, a worldwide hops shortage, HS2, Jacqui Smith somehow brought back on Strictly, Clive Tyldesley brought on England matches, an announcement that the Blues Brothers will be remade with James Corden (in both roles) and another week of Gabriel Martinelli being injured. And Spurs winning the league.
Mostly fictional disasters for the UK of course, but 2020 year can weigh us all down, my man.
As it happens, it would be just like Spurs to wait three generations to win the biggest prize and find themselves doing it an empty stadium, but there’s no need to play top trumps with Liverpool on that right now.
And if they do, after everything we’ve all been through, let it be. Take the trade-off: Accept losing 12-0 in the north London derby if you can somehow flash forward me to a time where people can roam the land unmasked again, stinking out tube trains with rush-hour armpits and most importantly filling football stadiums.
Imagine a world without coronavirus mucking it all up and a president you only have to grimace a little at. I don’t think I’d care who won the league if we could quantum leap to those carefree days of fresh jasmine again.
Besides, the enjoyment of the Premier League now is not found in Mikel Arteta’s sideways passing or the niggling prospect that at some point Spurs will always press a big blue self-destruct button. No, folks, the pleasure comes in watching Manchester United.
The bullies who once kicked sand in all our of faces are now down in the basement wing, looking hilariously terrible. Whichever team you support, during this frustrating pause on the world’s clock, at least savour Ole Gunnar Solkskjaer’s continued struggle to get an expensively assembled team even facing in the right direction.
At no time have we needed such entertainment more and we can enjoy it together.