Its The History...

Poch did it in 2019 as part of that infamous and dramatic Champions League tie in the Quarter Finals in 2019. Then Jose did it twice 2-0. Even Nuno managed it on his debut. And now Conte's done it. There's nothing quite like a shut-out at home to, what used to be, the best team in England. Its tradition. Its like Spurs going to Stamford Bridge for our annual humbling. But nobody does it to City quite like Tottenham.

They just can't seem to get anything over the line at our stadium, can they? No matter how many penalties they're awarded, red cards in their favour, possession they accrue or shots they take. This night was no different to the last, nor the one before it, nor the one before that. We battled, we rose our game, we scored and we have avenged the defeat we suffered just weeks earlier. Its that sinking feeling for City again and a welcome pick-me-up for the rest of us that we are borderline coming to expect. Undoubtedly, this was our best moment of the season, the best 90 minutes, the best first half, the best result. Most importantly, it was something slap bang out of last season's playbook.

As for the match itself, the big moment, the winning moment, the crowning moment came in a flash that sparked with the similar incompetencies that saw us take the lead in the reverse fixture just weeks ago; City passing out from the back and Spurs actually pressing for possession. Rodri's ball to youngster Lewis was a cruel homage to how the military powers that be sent brave adolescent soldiers to their mechanical doom in the face of German machine guns in 1916. In stepped Pierre Emile Hojbjerg, a big, bonking, burly Dane, who used his strength to prize the ball, his nouse to prise a chance and the rest was left to Harry Kane. In truth, he scuffed his shot. Struck it into the ground. But even when he's at fault, he still provides.

It was fifteen minutes into the game and Tottenham had scored first. That has not happened often. Kane, in swiping us ahead, had beaten not just Ederson in goal, but Jimmy Greaves too - relegating the great to 2nd in the club's all-time goal-scoring charts. Its an incredible achievement. Pep said it in the week; "Exceptional. Amazing. One of the Best." He is the best and that's not opinion anymore, its fact. 267 and counting. Then Mahrez hit the bar. Half time came to thunderous support from the 60,000 home fans and Aaron Lennon gave us a sweet cameo while the players took instruction. It had a special feeling to it. There was magick in the air. You just knew, Manchester City, it really was about to happen again for a 5th time in a row.

And it did.

You don't need to see the highlights to know how it played out. City had more of the ball, but couldn't carve a way through the solid Argentine-English-Welsh concrete we'd mixed in front of goal. In actuality, Spurs had the better of the chances in the second half and the defeat could have been heavier. Antonio Conte must have been watching from home comfortable and relieved in the knowledge that much-needed hospital beds were not being filled with Spurs fans who's hearts were giving out from the stress.

Hojbjerg and Bentancur were superb. The former was given the man of the match award for his work, not just for the goal, but for breaking up play everywhere the men in sky blue tried to escape. The pair of them went forwards, backwards, this way, that way and at least halfway over the Irish Sea. City's midfield were bullied, pressed and beaten out of the game, as much as we were ourselves when Arsenal came in January. I said it then of Arteta's men and I'll say it now of Tottenham's; we came to play, to fight and to win. Every player deserves their praise. Lloris, though mostly untroubled, held onto every ball that came his way and commanded his box with near nostalgic supremacy. Romero and Dier were snarling animals at the back - the latter making a particularly eye-catching and match-saving block. Davies had one of his Maldini days. Deki is a perpetual danger to defences across England; the man's a viking.

But special praise needs to be reserved for three key individuals. Son. That's what confidence does to a player. Without it, he looked lost. With it, he's another entity altogether. More often than not, when Tottenham were surging from one box to another, it was Son leading the charge. His dribbling was vintage and a sight for some sore eyes after what we've been watching for the last few months. A goal would have been the icing, but it does not feel necessary. For the first time this season, I feel the Korean has some momentum restored.

Now for the real man of the match - Emerson Royal. I noted two and a half weeks ago, when Spurs had shipped 4 goals at the Etihad, that Royal was one of the best on the pitch. The same is true again tonight. I feared at the time, that a disasterclass would cap my frustration, but the fall from grace has not come to pass. He is only getting better and better. He was strong, smart and dominant up and down the length of the right flank. Multiple times he left Jack Grealish looking like a frustrated Keira Knightley from Bend it Like Beckham. Conte himself pointed out that Royal's performances suffered from a collapse in confidence, not dissimilar to that of our Korean King, after his dismissal at the Emirates in October. Which leaves us all with a fascinating and unexpected conundrum; How does Pedro Porro get into the starting eleven? The competition is welcome.

And finally, Harry Kane. I shower him in praise in articles every week and every time he responds with more for me to write about. I suspect, in 50 years time, I might look back on great players to have donned the shirt and Harry's name will be at the top of my list. Thank the Gods he is one of our own. There's a poetic justice to the win, as there always seems to be against City. Not long ago, Kane wanted to leave, he wanted to play for Pep Guardiola and share in the silverware he hoovers up year in, year out. Instead City chose to throw 100 million at Jack Grealish. The next Summer they made Haaland their priority striker. Tonight something became clear: Kane does both their jobs better and only wears the one shirt.

Haaland is a goal-machine. He's perhaps the best on the planet at converting chances and sniffing out danger. But against a wall of players, an organised defence, he offers very little. Something signposted by his zero touches in the box and zero shots on target. In times like those, you need a player who can transform to fit the needs of the assignment. A player who can grab the game by the gonads and drag you to victory. Harry Kane is that player. City don't have anything like him in their stocks of ammunition. Those signings and that failed signing cost them the match. It might just cost them the title too.