Drowning in Shallow Waters

First thing's first, floating to the heights of back-to-back London derby victories before the titanic sink to the depths of elimination from the FA Cup to lower league opposition is nothing unfamiliar. It is a whiplash every Spurs fan has experienced. Its the same pendulum that never ceases to swing. Good to bad, great to terrible, ecstasy to dismay. Last season's rendition was a well-fought win at 1st place Manchester City followed up by a 1-0 drubbing at the hands of a Burnley side sitting 20th in the table. As a club, we shamble from disaster to disaster, sprinkling memorable performances and victories over the ashes, flashes of brilliance in amidst the settling dusts of a storm. What could have been, what should have been.

As much as we'd love to find our consistency, our winning instinct, our adaptable ruthlessness, we just cannot seem to stop that clock from ticking. Poch couldn't find it at Clochester. Jose couldn't find it in Zagreb. Nuno could hardly locate it in North London. As a fan-base we joked about this defeat before it came. It would be so Tottenham, so Spursy. Well here it is in all its inglory. The punchline with perpetual timing that never fails to deliver; Spurs are out the cup.

Our brand of football, which has been more or less the same idea since the hiring of Mourinho, works wonders on those whom we expect to dominate us. Yet, given the purported quality of the squad, there are arguably no more than five to seven teams who fit that description. The rest of the English pyramid are clubs who expect in some capacity to be dominated by us. We do no such thing. Though certainly frustrating for its lacking appeal for spectators, this is a functional problem only and can be solved by the efficient recruitment of the appropriate players.

These players, at least on this night, were found wanting sorely. Davinson Sanchez is a total mystery. He stands tall at 6' 2", has a strong build and knows how to tackle and head the ball. Yet, I'm convinced if I were to charge at him myself and put on some feeble display of intimidation, perhaps raise my voice and thrash my legs, I would be able to squeeze a mistake out of him and probably get a shot away on goal. Pedro Porro started poorly, but grew into the game somewhat. Still, he could not find a moment to project any significant influence on the match. Perisic's outstanding ability was previously his ball delivery, be it a dead ball or a live one. That ability has vanished and too with it has gone his use in the team. Destiny Udogie cannot get here soon enough.

Hojbjerg sometimes has a night where he has the starring role in our salvation from results like these. Think Conte's debut at home to Leeds. Think our last visit to Stamford Bridge. Think Marseille away. Tonight was not one of those occasions. He and Sarr had virtually nothing to do all game, because in front of them our forwards were playing the game at the pace of a sedated brick and behind them the defenders had already surrendered possession of the ball.

It was in our forward play where the match was surely lost however. You should always be able to win a match while conceding just the one goal. Even a draw would have taken us to penalties. Unfortunately, Richarlison and Son could provide nothing between them but pot-shots into crowds of three and four, or desperate lashes sent into the vicinity of the corner flag. A few years back, the very worst of our attacking play would be those frustrating moments with Lucas Moura, where he'd beat someone for pace in a starting burst, but eventually lose the ball moments before the decisive action. Tonight, that was the very best we had on offer.

Could Forster have done better with the goal? Probably. Should Ndiaye have been able to maze about the box the way he did before striking on goal? No chance. I am yet to assign blame on the faulting defenders, but in all honesty, I have no desire to review the footage any further. I am quite certain, whomever the guilty party is, be it Dier, Davies or Sanchez, it is something I will have already seen before countless times just with different coloured shirts leading the resulting celebrations.

This result is extremely damning on the depth available at Tottenham Hotspur. In fact, I'll rephrase. This performance is truly damning on the depth in the team. If we had stolen a win, say Dier blocks the shot and Sonny scores on the counter, we wouldn't have deserved it. Full-time would have been met with disbelieving relief, rather than festivity. Regardless of how those final 15 minutes could have played out, the psychological damage had already been done beforehand. The rotating eleven came in and let us down massively. Confidence going forward, at least where I'm concerned, has taken a major hit, and now much of the rest of the season seems to have lost meaning. It is hard for me to be excited about finishing 4th. We've been there before and it hasn't seemed to help us much recently.

Can we win the Champions League? We have just been masterfully knocked out of the FA Cup by Sheffield United. Pray that it can be chalked down to a mixture of complacency and disruption to the more regular starters. You would not expect to encounter those issues in a contest with a Milan side who's prestige alone will demand much more ambition and focus. I'm afraid shameless snobbery is the best answer I can find to retain my hopes for this month's football.

Reality is likely much more simple and brutal; 15 years of not winning silverware doesn't happen by accident or through bad luck. Winning trophies is an achievement made real by the excellence of a sizable squad, that's why everyone involved gets a medal 'round their neck and their turn hoisting the trophy high above their shoulders. A winning team is bread in an ocean of competency where the spring is never allowed to run dry. Well, if Spurs are a body of water, their depths have been exposed as a fatally shallow puddle.