Whether An Adventure Or Journey, It Was A Good Run

This post is best read with the video above playing.

Champions League commentators have been fond of calling Tottenham's run an adventure. An adventure suggests venturing into unknown territory with a possible element of danger involved, even a sense of impending doom. The commentators were evidently on to something.

Tottenham hadn't qualified for the Champions League in over 50 years and had their fair share of missteps against some of Europe's finest teams. Everything that could have went wrong did in their 4-0 loss in the first leg against Real Madrid. That would be the 'unknown territory' and 'element of danger' aspects of an adventure. The impending doom part happened yesterday.

The score this time was a more respectable 1-0 loss at White Hart Lane. However, Ronaldo's lone goal (again Ronaldo, of all people) should have been saved. And just like that -- the end. Tottenham couldn't muster a goal despite setting a furious pace out of the gate. The aggregate was insurmountable anyway, but a positive moment to end on would have been nice.

While an adventure was certainly an appropriate term to describe Tottenham's time in the Champions League, I prefer to think of it as a journey. A journey has a less cynical tone to it, and suggests a learning experience. Because that is really what this was -- a learning experience. Players don't go to Tottenham expecting to play in the Champions League.

In the second stanza of his poem "Journey's End," J.R.R. Tolkien describes the reconciliation process at the end of a journey:

Though here at journey's end I lie
In darkness buried deep,
Beyond all towers strong and high,
Beyond all mountains steep,
Above all shadows rides the Sun
And Stars for ever dwell:
I will not say the Day is done,
Nor bid the Stars farewell.
 
Journey's end, but the sights seen and lessons learn remain forever. I was happy to be a very small part of that journey, 4,000 miles away, watching on my computer.

Poise: What Is It Really?

The word "poise" is often used in professional sports, especially in conjunction with the losing side. We hear how a team was unable to maintain their poise in a loss, or that the underdog needs to remain poised in order to pull off an upset. Poise is somehow only a factor in sports during a crucial moment or after a game is decided. It's so much more than that.

How about speaking of a team's poise after they've virtually been defeated, but the game is still in progress? That's what I'd like to talk about because, for all intents and purposes, Tottenham lost Tuesday's Champions League match against Real Madrid with 75 minutes remaining. Former Arsenal striker/Tottenham assassin Emmanuel Adebayor headed home a corner four minutes into the game. He slipped past Aaron Lennon's injury replacement, Jermaine Jenas, and headed the ball past both the goalkeeper and Luka Modric on the far post. 1-0.

It gets better. Peter Crouch, the same Peter Crouch who stands 6'7 and is expected to do one thing (win balls in the air) recklessly challenged Sergio Ramos and picked up a yellow card shortly after the goal. Eleven minutes later, the same Peter Crouch, who really shouldn't be sliding under any circumstances, picked up a second yellow for another reckless challenge, this time on Marcelo, and once again on a ball he wouldn't have won anyway.

So with 75 minutes remaining, Spurs were at a goal disadvantage and a man disadvantage against a team more talented in every facet of the game. These are the situations in which "poise" is normally discussed. And of course, it would be said that Tottenham lost theirs.

In the meta-football universe we're operating in for the purpose of this post, I'd like to argue the opposite, in fact. The goal and Crouch's challenges were a series of bad mistakes, completely separate from the team's collective identity. The team showed their true colors in those remaining 75 minutes, when they were beaten mercilessly and left fending for their lives.

This is how I like to imagine this match. Two friends walk out of a bar. Both strong and imposing young men. The type of guys no one would pick a one-on-one fight with. As they exit left and head towards a dark alley, one of the men heads back into the bar because he left his wallet, or something else, a jacket, maybe. Now alone, the less forgetful friend continues walking. Four young pick-pockets hide behind a rusted dumpster waiting to pounce and rob him for all he's worth. The four gangly cowards may have reconsidered if it was still the two men, but down to one they happily engage in a vicious ass-whooping. Kicks, punches, steel-toes, spiked bats, tire irons -- the whole nine.

The hapless friend, left to fend for himself curls up and tries his best to absorb the blows. He's bloodied and his swollen left eye begins to shut. But he doesn't play dead. He continues to get up -- relishing the violence. He would have preferred to be lying in bed, enjoying the comfort of his own home, but he can't. This is a beating he has to take -- and he takes it, without complaint. That was Tottenham on Tuesday.

Poise to me is more than staying calm under pressure. It is also about self-respect and respect for the game. It's easy to give up. Everyday people give up on their dreams, relationships, and even life itself. Overmatched athletes quit on a regular basis when they can't keep up. Poise is about resisting the urge to quit, even though you know your best isn't good enough. Poise is about continuing to play your ass off, even after Ronaldo scores the fourth goal, one that should have been saved at that, and blows kisses to the raucous crowd like the consummate douche that he is.

Every fan experiences an "A-Ha" moment when they either realize or are reminded why they love their team. Strangely enough, mine came in a 4-0 blowout in which Tottenham embarrassed themselves and the EPL in the Champions League Quarterfinals. They took their beating, and came back for more, refusing to back down. They weren't intimidated by the historic Real Madrid and their lineup filled with world-class players. The score didn't reflect it, but I still felt like Tottenham belonged.

Poised they were, at least in my meta-football universe. Now let's grab this 4th spot and do it again next year.