Tottenham 1-1 Leeds United: Worth doing well
Leeds United played like a team used to hitting a certain standard, regulated by Ethan Ampadu's determination to stop every Tottenham player and help every Leeds player.
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"They were not calm today," said Roberto de Zerbi, Tottenham Hotspur manager, after his team drew with Leeds United on Monday night. "Maybe they suffered the pressure of yesterday." His midfielder James Maddison went on Instagram to add the word 'petrified'.
Obviously this was not a significant moment of self-realisation from Tottenham, as they officially hate to be called. With only two wins at home all season, Tottenham had failed to learn a lesson from the pyro parade thousands of fans gave the team before the game they played against Nottingham Forest a few weeks ago and lost 3-0. 'The pressure that gets created by turning every game into a cup final is the opposite,' of helpful, performance psychologist Tom Bate told The Athletic, 'It creates emotional fatigue'. So obviously Tottenham had another go at doing the same thing, inside the stadium this time, with fireworks, a long video montage of successes, fans holding up cards for a big display, a lone trumpeter playing 'Oh when the Saints' — sorry, the Tottenham, sorry, the Spurs — and an announcer emphasising how Big and Important and Significant and Scary playing Leeds was going to be. Leeds United, safe from relegation, didn't care about any of this. White Hart Lane, as Tottenham officially hate it being called, was petrified into silence by the nervous tension.
But no, De Zerbi and Maddison were talking about the referees, after a match when Leeds United should be elbowing aside our supposed superiors because it's our turn, actually, to moan about the referees. Or the referee, in the particular singular, Jarred Gillett.
Gillett was given a 4/10 rating by the Yorkshire Evening Post for his infuriating incompetence in our FA Cup semi-final against Chelsea, and made to look like a foolish bystander in the widespread coverage of goalkeeper Robert Sánchez faking injury for a tactical timeout. Just as Thomas Bramall was sent to Elland Road just weeks after he'd been told off for sending Gabriel Gudmundsson off by mistake and spent his afternoon acting like that had been our fault, Gillett used this game to turn all the post-Chelsea criticism of him back upon Leeds. So we don't like timewasting goalies? Fine, let's use the least-enforced rule of the season to punish Karl Darlow for taking too long to kick from his hands and see how you like it now. This time, the YEP's Graham Smyth gave him minus one.
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The video-assistant was Craig Pawson who did his job properly, pulling Gillett's pants down and taking his gilet off and shaving him with The Best a Man Can— stop wait this is getting weird. The demonstrative nadir of Gillett's performance came when Mathys Tel tried an overhead clearance in his own box and booted Ethan Ampadu, who went down holding his head. Gillett's reaction was dramatic: staring at the incident, waving his hands emphatically, letting his gaze linger disdainfully on Ampadu before turning to follow the ball upfield where Tottenham were now counter-attacking, refusing to stop the game despite Leeds United's captain staying on the ground holding his head.
All of which made Gillett a fool when Ampadu got up with the mark of Tel's boot on his forehead, and when VAR Craig Pawson ordered him to see how that mark was made. 'After review', Gillett announced to 61,000 people, 'I look a right prick'. Dominic Calvert-Lewin relished bashing in the penalty kick, almost as much as James Justin enjoyed protecting his no.9 from Richarlison's interference as the kick was being prepared, like a sheepdog herding a bleating lamb.
I'm sure Gillett went home seething at Leeds — and Pawson — but all would have been forgiven if he'd paid more attention to Richarlison. Tottenham's striker faked being thrown to the ground by Ampadu at a corner, and got away with a forearm smash into Jaka Bijol's face by faking a head clash. Perhaps it was worth letting him carry on so he could meet a big chance to give Tottenham a 2-0 lead by smashing the ball high and wide.
Pedro Porro also got away with a bad foul on Justin by pretending to be hurt himself, João Palhinha was allowed a two-footed foul on Lukas Nmecha, and most egregious of all Micky van de Ven tried awarding himself a free-kick, picking the ball up and marching around with it under his arm like some modern day Webb Ellis, without a booking for either the handball or the dissent or the delaying of the restart or the unsporting behaviour. So, obviously, it was the referee who De Zerbi said wasn't calm, feeling the pressure, and 'the officials' that James Maddison has declared were 'petrified' of giving him a penalty for Nmecha's tackle in stoppage time. Of which Tottenham were given thirteen minutes, and allowed even more, which still wasn't enough for them to win the game.
Their players looked motivated, at least, which seems to be what Roberto De Zerbi has brought to his rescue attempt. The squad didn't need a coach when he arrived, he said, but "a big brother, father". After Georginio Rutter denied them with Brighton's heartbreaking late equaliser, he said everyone had to come to the next training session, "with a smile, because otherwise they go home immediately". After this game he said Mathys Tel would get "a big hug and a big kiss" for giving away the equalising penalty, because he'd also given Tottenham the lead, controlling a cleared corner and stroking the ball through Joe Rodon's pompadour and Darlow's fingertips into the top corner.
De Zerbi is going for good vibes only, reminiscent of Sam Allardyce's attempts to keep Leeds up by telling Pat Bamford jokes in training. And it seems to be working, to an extent, which perhaps ought to concern Tottenham anyway: for months their players have looked like a bunch of petulant, uncaring wankers about to get relegated almost from spite. So is this sudden interest in winning games a change of character, or is De Zerbi — the one person to look at Mason Greenwood and see a good guy who just needs a hug — merely fluent in the language of total dickheads? It might explain why he's taken the one Tottenham player who seems to have been trying throughout, the still Bambi-faced Archie Gray, and stuck him on the bench.
It's the same problem Chelsea have, of trying to coax a squad of sulky brats, whose bank balances swell along with their egos, into caring, even just a little bit, about winning games of football. Given Ange Postecoglou, given Thomas Frank, given Igor Tudor; given their wages, their lifestyles, their training ground, the new White Hart Lane; given the support, the pre-match displays, the indulgence of referees like Gillett, given 103 minutes: what more do Tottenham's players need to actually shake themselves into winning a game of football? "I think we felt too much pressure," said De Zerbi after they didn't win the game with Leeds, "it can happen if you fight for the relegation". But at some point, given all their advantages, it's hard not to conclude that they've brought all that pressure on themselves.
Especially when, up the other end of the pitch, there's Leeds United. And Sean Longstaff having his stoppage time shot sensationally diverted onto the bar by Antonin Kinsky, who earlier in the game got down brilliantly to stop Joe Rodon's header on the line. What was motivating our Peacocks into working their keeper from first to last? Rodon, who combined that header with tackles and blocks to keep Tottenham out at the other end, was facing his former club. Everyone else? They all looked like they were emulating Ethan Ampadu, competing for the sheer joy of getting results.
Which isn't to say everyone played well. Leeds were being a bit odd, repeating self-defeating motions of baiting Tottenham's high press but nearly collapsing if the bait was taken. Tottenham were targeting Ao Tanaka in midfield, and it took a while for him to take the hint and start tackling his own way into the game. Jayden Bogle and Gabriel Gudmundsson were both out injured, a key attacking facet replaced by James Justin's best efforts and Dan James' confusion. Calvert-Lewin, penalty apart, was reduced to chesting Bijol's high punts down from the air; Brenden Aaronson was reduced to chasing after those bouncing deflections.
Things picked up when Wilf Gnonto came on, even if his way of covering right wing-back kept sending Rodon upfield onto the wing. Gnonto is a neat counterpoint to Tottenham, three seasons on from trying to strike his way out of Elland Road. He'd clearly love to be starting, but after the draw with Bournemouth three weeks ago he said, "I think it's not the moment to be selfish ... everyone thinks they can play more, and it's going to be like this everywhere, but at the same time whenever we have the chance we try to do our best and that can make the difference at the end." He spoke, and has been playing from the bench, like someone accepting his role here and now, encouraged to wait and seek his rewards next season.
Despite their problems Leeds still played like a team used to hitting a certain standard, regulated by Ampadu's determination to stop every Tottenham player and help every Leeds player. Any temptation to take things easy now they're safe was removed by being on a football pitch playing a football match, and after the equaliser their Premier League security translated into indomitable confidence while Tottenham got themselves into ever more of a flap and White Hart Lane got hushed. The thirteen minutes of stoppage time worked against the home team because, on a Monday night, even people who care about Tottenham have homes to go to and jobs in the morning and bigger things in their lives than watching their favourite football team's players whining themselves towards relegation. The match went on, the home fans went home, Leeds fans and players had a post-match party, and we all learned a lesson about how if staying up is worth doing it's worth doing well. ⭑彡
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