I Don't Believe In Sherwood, I Just Believe In Spurs

Editorial | Article posted on February 3rd, 2025

This, or words to this effect, will inevitably appear in a club statement at some point in the future:
"Tottenham Hotspur and Head Coach Tim Sherwood have decided to part company with immediate effect. The club would like to thank him for his efforts during his time at White Hart Lane but it is mutually agreed that the club needs to embark on a different direction that will allow it to achieve the goals that everybody associated with Tottenham Hotspur desires. The club wishes Tim all the best in his future endeavours."
I know this will happen. I know this because I know Spurs. Sherwood may be benefiting from the customary upturn in the club's results since the sacking of Andre Villas-Boas but the fact that it's not hard to disbelieve such a statement being released is an indicator of just how much short-termism envelops the club at present. It has become the norm because that's the way things are done at Tottenham Hotspur.
It's no secret that I am no great fan of Sherwood's. He played for Spurs in one of the most mediocre periods in the club's recent history and I hold grudges. I don't like the cannily employed persona of the homespun dispenser of common sense or the thinly veiled negation of the more cerebral and nuanced footballing template espoused by his predecessor. He plays to the gallery populated by those who wrinkle their noses at the more methodical playing styles from the Continent, unless they're writing about Jose Mourinho, of course. Sherwood is ostensibly a less crumpled replica of Harry Redknapp, with less chutzpah but with a similar propensity for outmoded football. He orders egg and chips when he's tanning himself in the Med. He wears tracksuits. He is the sum of all the PE teachers who made your life a misery at school. He looks like an owl.

Having established that fact, I will swiftly move on because I know for a fact that he will do the same once we suffer more humiliations like the one we endured against Manchester City last week. Mr Levy likes a quick turnaround, after all. He's probably a fan of the Wolf Of Wall Street. Buy, buy, loan, sell, sack, sell, sack, buy…
This, however is not a post about who manages my club. This is about the sense of dislocation I've felt since AVB's doomed fate was sealed in March. Because I genuinely don't know what my club is supposed to be any more.
Perhaps that's the reality of supporting a nominally 'big' club. I've always yearned for a sense of togetherness whenever I go to White Hart Lane. The atmosphere can of course be electrifying, especially when Spurs are playing Spurs-type football

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