Like a song that changes time signature for the hell of it, like a friend that inexplicably blanks you, like a match report that noodles away for ages instead of just telling you what happened, Tottenham Hotspur remain medically incapable of doing things the simple way. This is becoming a kind of mania, a disorder, a cry for help. What is this? Who are you really? And, you know, can you not?
For all this, Ange Postecoglou’s side are League Cup semi-finalists, the latest plot twist in a season where nobody can really agree whether things are going well or not. Great football. But also some terrible football. But also, three games from a trophy. But also, 10th in the Premier League. But also two goals for Dominic Solanke. But also two goals basically given away by Fraser Forster.
