Woodgate winner signals Spurs' new dawn
Jonathan Woodgate should be able to climb on to the London property ladder now. In the house of the rising sums, the £757 million Wembley residence that is the symbol of an exorbitant market that has so shocked Woodgate, the new arrival from Middlesbrough surely earned the deposit for a 'des res' in the capital.
Having surprised many with his comments about how even wealthy footballers found London expensive, Woodgate will not be short of offers of spare rooms in the Tottenham area. Goals pay the rent and match-winning headers like Woodgate's are priceless.
To Woodgate the spoils, to Avram Grant the brickbats. Like a profligate heir, Grant has now squandered half the family silver he inherited from Jose Mourinho. Like a startled fawn, Chelsea's manager failed to react when the team cried out for guidance, for inspiration. Steve Clarke delivered the rallying cry before extra-time. Grant listened.
A manager who never lost a cup final in England, Mourinho would have raged against the dying of the light, exhorting his players to find something extra, enacting one of his substitute master-strokes to vary Chelsea's danger. The Blues' huge army of support, who became so used to trophies under Mourinho, deserve better than Grant.
An authority figure? No chance. When Michael Ballack, Didier Drogba, Petr Cech and John Terry lost it with the excellent referee, Mark Halsey, at the final whistle, Grant froze again.
Only a timely run from his assistant, Henk Ten Cate, defused the tension. For all the recent eulogies to Grant about his being a high-class manager, even a worthy successor to Mourinho, the Far-From-Special One has faltered when the pressure has been most intense. Grant's decision to start Frank Lampard ahead of the fitter Michael Ballack certainly backfired. Lampard is a magnificent thoroughbred, but he needed a few more runs on the gallops before such a demanding race as this.
Grant's tactics were patently flawed. It is hard to believe Nicolas Anelka joined from Bolton simply to mark Alan Hutton, the Spurs right-back. Anelka is an exceptional attacking talent, capable of destroying opposing defences when unleashed through the middle but he was allowed to support Drogba properly only after Spurs made it 2-1. Juande Ramos promptly introduced another defensive sentry in Younes Kaboul to help weather the long-ball storm.
With the quality of personnel at his disposal, Grant should be reaching finals. So he has failed his first big test. He was also asked by Roman Abramovich to make Chelsea more entertaining but there is a joylessness about Grant's teams, a machine-like quality that will never endear Chelsea to neutrals or purists.
Unlike Spurs. Yesterday was a fabulous day for football, one that those onlookers whose pulses are quickened by vibrant attacking should mark in their diaries and celebrate every year. Spurs, the team with the more constructive intentions, went home rewarded with the ultimate in footballing 'bling', winners' medals dangling around their necks. The players who finished with champagne poured over their sweat-stained features were entertainers like Jermaine Jenas, Aaron Lennon, Robbie Keane and Dimitar Berbatov. Good. Here was football in keeping with the Tottenham tradition, that Bill Nicholson would have approved of, that Glenn Hoddle, Ossie Ardiles and Danny Blanchflower, would recognise. Until the final passage of play, when even the back-tracking Berbatov proved you can be famous defensively for 15 minutes, Spurs brimmed with attacking desire.
Even Ramos' defenders exuded adventure at times. Hutton looked to give Spurs some much-needed width. Ledley King, comfortably the man of the match for a series of immaculate interceptions, also stepped into midfield. Woodgate scored. Pascal Chimbonda clipped the bar with an early header.
Enterprise ruled. Anchorman Didier Zokora also moved to an upbeat tempo, although the club should write into his contract that he must lay the ball off the moment he crosses halfway. Some of Zokora's shooting was a danger to traffic on the North Circular. Yet his willingness to race between boxes encapsulated the reality that Spurs wanted victory more. So did the tears cascading down Keane's face. The chants emanating from the Spurs faithful were almost visceral in their intensity. One club, one hunger. Spurs craved this chance to escape the shadows of Arsenal and Chelsea lengthening across the London skyline.
The reasons to be cheerful here contained additional verses. Sharing the silverware around is healthy for football. For those who admire Paul Robinson as a person and as a keeper, who respect the professional way he has focused on rebuilding his career after setbacks for club and country, the sight of him making some fine saves was uplifting.
But when Chelsea took the lead seven minutes from half-time, exploiting Robinson's solitary mistake, romantics and Spurs lovers feared the worst. As cleverly as Drogba disguised his intentions, as swiftly as he placed the ball around the wall, the goal could have been prevented. Keane leapt across, unintentionally freeing up some space for the ball to carry through. Robinson also went to his right, and was caught flat-footed as Drogba's strike curled into the other corner: 1-0.
Spurs players, thrillingly, were certainly prepared to stand up and be counted. Tom Huddlestone arrived to bring better distribution into midfield. Chimbonda, shamefully, walked slowly off and disappeared straight down the tunnel. When Chimbonda learned the English language, he must have missed the lesson teaching words like loyalty, team-work and grace.
With Malbanque now left-back, Ramos' change worked. Lennon sprang to life, running at Chelsea's defence far more potently. Cutting in from the left after 70 minutes, Lennon lifted the ball across to Huddlestone. In a whirl of limbs, Wayne Bridge handled, his offence spotted by the alert linesman, Martin Yerby. Terry ranted away but Halsey was not for turning. And Berbatov was not for failing. The Bulgarian seems to play the game at his own speed, and this penalty was no exception. Berbatov moved in slowly, waiting for Cech to commit himself, and then sweeping the dead-ball the other side: 1-1.
Zokora should really have settled the final during normal time, but never exuded confidence when released through by Keane, allowing Cech to save superbly. Zokora, following up waywardly, accidentally caught the keeper, who required smelling salts.
Whether Cech was still groggy four minutes into the additional period remains a matter of conjecture. What is certain is that one of the world's most respected keepers was strangely uncertain as Jenas' free-kick swerved across. Cech was beaten by Woodgate, whose eventual house-warming promises to be some party.
Man of the match
Jonatahan Woodgate (Tottenham)
• 3 shots, one winning goal
• 89 per cent pass accuracy
Having surprised many with his comments about how even wealthy footballers found London expensive, Woodgate will not be short of offers of spare rooms in the Tottenham area. Goals pay the rent and match-winning headers like Woodgate's are priceless.
To Woodgate the spoils, to Avram Grant the brickbats. Like a profligate heir, Grant has now squandered half the family silver he inherited from Jose Mourinho. Like a startled fawn, Chelsea's manager failed to react when the team cried out for guidance, for inspiration. Steve Clarke delivered the rallying cry before extra-time. Grant listened.
A manager who never lost a cup final in England, Mourinho would have raged against the dying of the light, exhorting his players to find something extra, enacting one of his substitute master-strokes to vary Chelsea's danger. The Blues' huge army of support, who became so used to trophies under Mourinho, deserve better than Grant.
An authority figure? No chance. When Michael Ballack, Didier Drogba, Petr Cech and John Terry lost it with the excellent referee, Mark Halsey, at the final whistle, Grant froze again.
Only a timely run from his assistant, Henk Ten Cate, defused the tension. For all the recent eulogies to Grant about his being a high-class manager, even a worthy successor to Mourinho, the Far-From-Special One has faltered when the pressure has been most intense. Grant's decision to start Frank Lampard ahead of the fitter Michael Ballack certainly backfired. Lampard is a magnificent thoroughbred, but he needed a few more runs on the gallops before such a demanding race as this.
Grant's tactics were patently flawed. It is hard to believe Nicolas Anelka joined from Bolton simply to mark Alan Hutton, the Spurs right-back. Anelka is an exceptional attacking talent, capable of destroying opposing defences when unleashed through the middle but he was allowed to support Drogba properly only after Spurs made it 2-1. Juande Ramos promptly introduced another defensive sentry in Younes Kaboul to help weather the long-ball storm.
With the quality of personnel at his disposal, Grant should be reaching finals. So he has failed his first big test. He was also asked by Roman Abramovich to make Chelsea more entertaining but there is a joylessness about Grant's teams, a machine-like quality that will never endear Chelsea to neutrals or purists.
Unlike Spurs. Yesterday was a fabulous day for football, one that those onlookers whose pulses are quickened by vibrant attacking should mark in their diaries and celebrate every year. Spurs, the team with the more constructive intentions, went home rewarded with the ultimate in footballing 'bling', winners' medals dangling around their necks. The players who finished with champagne poured over their sweat-stained features were entertainers like Jermaine Jenas, Aaron Lennon, Robbie Keane and Dimitar Berbatov. Good. Here was football in keeping with the Tottenham tradition, that Bill Nicholson would have approved of, that Glenn Hoddle, Ossie Ardiles and Danny Blanchflower, would recognise. Until the final passage of play, when even the back-tracking Berbatov proved you can be famous defensively for 15 minutes, Spurs brimmed with attacking desire.
Even Ramos' defenders exuded adventure at times. Hutton looked to give Spurs some much-needed width. Ledley King, comfortably the man of the match for a series of immaculate interceptions, also stepped into midfield. Woodgate scored. Pascal Chimbonda clipped the bar with an early header.
Enterprise ruled. Anchorman Didier Zokora also moved to an upbeat tempo, although the club should write into his contract that he must lay the ball off the moment he crosses halfway. Some of Zokora's shooting was a danger to traffic on the North Circular. Yet his willingness to race between boxes encapsulated the reality that Spurs wanted victory more. So did the tears cascading down Keane's face. The chants emanating from the Spurs faithful were almost visceral in their intensity. One club, one hunger. Spurs craved this chance to escape the shadows of Arsenal and Chelsea lengthening across the London skyline.
The reasons to be cheerful here contained additional verses. Sharing the silverware around is healthy for football. For those who admire Paul Robinson as a person and as a keeper, who respect the professional way he has focused on rebuilding his career after setbacks for club and country, the sight of him making some fine saves was uplifting.
But when Chelsea took the lead seven minutes from half-time, exploiting Robinson's solitary mistake, romantics and Spurs lovers feared the worst. As cleverly as Drogba disguised his intentions, as swiftly as he placed the ball around the wall, the goal could have been prevented. Keane leapt across, unintentionally freeing up some space for the ball to carry through. Robinson also went to his right, and was caught flat-footed as Drogba's strike curled into the other corner: 1-0.
Spurs players, thrillingly, were certainly prepared to stand up and be counted. Tom Huddlestone arrived to bring better distribution into midfield. Chimbonda, shamefully, walked slowly off and disappeared straight down the tunnel. When Chimbonda learned the English language, he must have missed the lesson teaching words like loyalty, team-work and grace.
With Malbanque now left-back, Ramos' change worked. Lennon sprang to life, running at Chelsea's defence far more potently. Cutting in from the left after 70 minutes, Lennon lifted the ball across to Huddlestone. In a whirl of limbs, Wayne Bridge handled, his offence spotted by the alert linesman, Martin Yerby. Terry ranted away but Halsey was not for turning. And Berbatov was not for failing. The Bulgarian seems to play the game at his own speed, and this penalty was no exception. Berbatov moved in slowly, waiting for Cech to commit himself, and then sweeping the dead-ball the other side: 1-1.
Zokora should really have settled the final during normal time, but never exuded confidence when released through by Keane, allowing Cech to save superbly. Zokora, following up waywardly, accidentally caught the keeper, who required smelling salts.
Whether Cech was still groggy four minutes into the additional period remains a matter of conjecture. What is certain is that one of the world's most respected keepers was strangely uncertain as Jenas' free-kick swerved across. Cech was beaten by Woodgate, whose eventual house-warming promises to be some party.
Man of the match
Jonatahan Woodgate (Tottenham)
• 3 shots, one winning goal
• 89 per cent pass accuracy
posted by dgarden at 9:20 am
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