Sunderland 0 Tottenham 0
Chelsea 2 Wigan 1
I have to hand it to Tottenham, and be thankful, for without them, I would NEVER get caught up on my sleep. This is the 2nd Saturday in the last 3 that I was able to get the sleep I need, despite getting up at 6:45 AM CDT for the Saturday morning EPL tilt on the deuce. Absolutely unbelievable. Even Macca and Ian Darke commented on how dreadfully bad the match was at one point in the 2nd half. The hell of it is is that Spurs have everything to play for at the moment….well if you consider a 3rd place finish everything to play for. But they sleepwalked through 90 minutes and I’m not even sure the final whistle woke them up. The Black Cats were awake for most of this, but at the end of the day, Lee Cattermole and Company are nothing more than Lee Cattermole and company despite the great coaching effort Martin O’Neill has provided the Black Cats since he replaced
President Bill Clinton Steve Bruce. I woke up in time to fix my breakfast and settle in to the Chelsea/Wigan tilt.
The Big Boys, Torres and Mikel, started from the bench. The Old Boys, JT, Lamps, & Cole, started in the stands. JT discussed the merits of the various flak-jackets he’s been looking into with the hooded Ashley Cole. I’m not sure if Lamps was sitting with them, or was with his old man, or in a coffee shop sipping a cappuccino and listening to Borodin’s Symphony #2 in A flat minor. But they all might as well have been listening to Borodin while talking about flak jackets, or the poetry of Charles Bukowski, or contemplating the self-condensation of small aldehydes, since what was taking place before them was yet ANOTHER game of donkey basketball. Only this time, unlike the Benfica match, they were not active participants in it. This time, the Blues not only brought out the donkeys, they brought out ostriches to ride as well. It was sloppy and miserable and when Chelsea conceded the equalizer I thought: ‘This is the end. They go no further.”
It could very well be that the healing anesthesia that RDM brought to the team in the wake of AVB is starting to wear off. Reality is settling in again like an unwelcome relative. At least, when Torres came on, you knew the day would be saved, somehow. He slipped twice in the same spot in the Wigan penalty area enroute to a sure score ((I half expected some kid to come out with a mop and clean up the spot like the do in the NBA)). But at the death, he fired a beautiful cross from the right that was curling in towards the goal. It clanged off the far post and Mata was there to slam dunk that bad boy home. Game over and won. 3 points on the board. But it just doesn’t feel or seem right.
The lads have 10 days and change to step their game up. Barcelona is coming to town and one thing is sure, Lionel Messi and the boys won’t be riding donkeys anytime soon. Nor will they be riding ostriches.