What a month it’s been for Spurs’ fans.
First we finally came home. Then we remembered how to win again. And now we’re in the Champions League semi-finals (note: not for the first time, the European Cup still counts).
My first view of the new stadium came on its opening night. As I walked up Tottenham High Road it started snowing, adding to the majesty of the spectacle.
I found the first game nerve-wracking in the extreme. You don’t get a second chance at the first result or the first goal scorer. It wasn’t until the next week’s demolition of Huddersfield that I could relax and enjoy our new home; and make no mistake, it is breathtaking.
Next we faced Manchester City and I have to admit, I wasn’t confident. Even with our best team we had to be second favourites, but with no Kane and a lack of options in midfield surely we couldn’t?
I don’t think I have ever been so emotional about a game I’ve watched sitting at home on the sofa. Never has the cliche, a roller-coaster ride, been more apt.
We were in, then we were out, then we were in again.
Son and Moura were sensational on the break. Sissoko was imperious in midfield. Then there was Trippier … oh dear.
When Sissoko went off injured we had no midfield but somehow we held on. Somehow we won a corner and Llorente, of all people, scored.
That last fifteen minutes was hell, waiting for the inevitable, and sure enough two minutes into injury time it came. I was crestfallen, in total despair. And then, amid the the chaos as City celebrated, up on the screen flashed those magical words –