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Lol, this is a great article and very funny in places. Enjoy. Ion Espscially I think will like this after all he has said about Harry. Ion, you have a kindred spirit.
Harry Redknapp has revealed himself unto me. He appeared
and spoke, softly but firmly, and assured me that everything was in
hand. He spoke not in a voice or manner I recognised. I was startled at
first, but then felt a wave of warm, comfortable euphoria sweep through
me. He said ‘Fear not my child. And listen not to what is said. For
the truth is thus – we will put those godless fcukers in their place.
United, City, Chelsea, Arsenal – Judgement Day is upon them, and soon
mankind will rejoice in the Kingdom of Tottenham.’ It was at that
point I realised that how Harry appears physically to us is simply his
‘earthly body’. He has to do this; otherwise we would be bewildered by
his brilliance. He has spent his time in the wilderness. Many people
doubt him, and call him a shaman. But he will lead us to the Promised
Land.
Harry has been tested this season more times than I care to remember.
And each time he has come through with clarity and skill. I knew he was
a good coach, able to organise a defence and get a team passing the
ball better than the average gaffer. What I also thought I knew was that
he was a man of simplistic footballing views and assertions. And that
these assertions would be what ultimately held him back from the upper
echelons. More fool me. When Robbie Keane was being sent on loan to
Celtic, or Jenas was being basically put out for the binmen to pick up
after the Wolves debacle, I found myself double and triple taking – is
this really happening? Did Harry really haul Jenas off at half time,
never to dress him in a Spurs shirt again? Did he really publicly
humiliate £20 million club captain Robbie Keane? Did he really make the
calls that all of us implored him to make, but privately thought were a
bit too outrageous? Yes. Yes he did.
How many of us, hand on heart, would have gone with the Modders/Hudd
CM combination? We thought Harry would be humble, play it safe. 2 points
from 8 games. Never had it so good. Punching above our weight. And how
we all fell for it! The clues were there though. All season, whilst
always playing things down, he quietly muttered that we were aiming for 4th.
Of course, he did more than enough to counter that with the constant
Bollox spouted about how good Liverpool are, how far we’ve come, how
grateful we should be etc etc. And I use the word Bollox advisedly.
Because that’s what it was. Pure Bollox. Harry knew all along that we
would do it. Privately, he is probably mad as a lorry that we finished
with as few points as we did. Privately, he knows that next season they
are all there for the taking. All of them.
He could have brought in a safe bet as keeper (James, Green), but he
didn’t. He stuck with the big, odd, whackjob. He could have sold Dawson,
or just let him continue having the regular schoolboy panic attacks. He
could have let Bale drift as the next floating showpony. He could have
let Huddlestone become Jan Molby but without the team-mates. BAE and
Bentley have come on so much since Harry and his team of coaches got
hold of them. Harry has coached the a*ses off them, and induced quite
remarkable rises in the performance levels of most of the team. Even the
recruitment of Sherwood and Ferdinand, when viewed retrospectively, is
genius – what PL player has ever heard of old jokes Kevin Bond and Joe
Jordan? Better get a couple of flash gits with nice suits and lush birds
that the players will listen too. Then sneakily make them better
players without them even noticing, while Shersy and Ferdsy regale them
with enthralling tales of mindless idiocy.
Harry made many errors this season. Playing Keane and Jenas for too
long. Not playing Pav. Getting the left sided choice wrong at times. But
on all of these occasions, he has righted his wrongs with startling
speed. Once all the debris had been cleared and the engine was tuned up,
the team was like a runaway train. And when the hard choices had to be
made, he made them. No sentiment whatsoever. Wilson, sorry, but you are
not the centre midfielder for the ‘next level’. Thanks, but no thanks.
He has learnt a lot. Nobody knows everything, something that certain
other North London managers would do well to remember.
And maybe I’m losing my fcuking mind here, but maybe, just maybe,
Harry is about to switch on all of us. Secretly, late at night, in
Harry’s palatial home in wherever, when Jamie has been tucked up in bed
in his Spiderman PJs, Harry lights up a fat Cuban cigar, and sits back
in his big chair, Tony Montana style. And he turns to Sandra and says ‘You
know what luv? We’re gonna rip this sh*tty little slag-league apart
next season. Wenger? fcuking losing it. Fabregas? Gone. Fergie?
Alzheimers. Drogba? Don’t worry; I’ve got a mindgame for that little
tart. Lampard? Modric. Mancini? Can’t speak English. Ferdinand, Essien,
Persie, all crocks. Vidic is off. Ok, so maybe give me Evra, or that
other little ponce who can play left back. And Rooney or Tevez. The rest
can fcuk right off.’ I’m not saying this because I necessarily
believe it. I’m saying it because I believe that Harry is at least 2
steps ahead of us all, and believes in the talent of himself and his
players a lot more than anyone else does.
All this transfer talk of Bellamy, Richards and Carlton Cole is
rubbish. He is going to sign 2 sh*t-hot strikers and 1 left back. He
knows that there is no such thing as standing still in this league.
You’re either going forwards or back. And forwards for us means
challenging the top 2. And you ain’t doing that with Craig Bellamy, much
as I have always been a fan of his play. Behind the façade that Harry
presents to us, there is a disturbingly ambitious and motivated man.
Harry wants to prove he is the best. Behind old cockney bagpuss is an
absolute beast of a manager waiting to be unleashed.
By guest-blogger, Chrisman.
Harry Redknapp has revealed himself unto me. He appeared
and spoke, softly but firmly, and assured me that everything was in
hand. He spoke not in a voice or manner I recognised. I was startled at
first, but then felt a wave of warm, comfortable euphoria sweep through
me. He said ‘Fear not my child. And listen not to what is said. For
the truth is thus – we will put those godless fcukers in their place.
United, City, Chelsea, Arsenal – Judgement Day is upon them, and soon
mankind will rejoice in the Kingdom of Tottenham.’ It was at that
point I realised that how Harry appears physically to us is simply his
‘earthly body’. He has to do this; otherwise we would be bewildered by
his brilliance. He has spent his time in the wilderness. Many people
doubt him, and call him a shaman. But he will lead us to the Promised
Land.
Harry has been tested this season more times than I care to remember.
And each time he has come through with clarity and skill. I knew he was
a good coach, able to organise a defence and get a team passing the
ball better than the average gaffer. What I also thought I knew was that
he was a man of simplistic footballing views and assertions. And that
these assertions would be what ultimately held him back from the upper
echelons. More fool me. When Robbie Keane was being sent on loan to
Celtic, or Jenas was being basically put out for the binmen to pick up
after the Wolves debacle, I found myself double and triple taking – is
this really happening? Did Harry really haul Jenas off at half time,
never to dress him in a Spurs shirt again? Did he really publicly
humiliate £20 million club captain Robbie Keane? Did he really make the
calls that all of us implored him to make, but privately thought were a
bit too outrageous? Yes. Yes he did.
How many of us, hand on heart, would have gone with the Modders/Hudd
CM combination? We thought Harry would be humble, play it safe. 2 points
from 8 games. Never had it so good. Punching above our weight. And how
we all fell for it! The clues were there though. All season, whilst
always playing things down, he quietly muttered that we were aiming for 4th.
Of course, he did more than enough to counter that with the constant
Bollox spouted about how good Liverpool are, how far we’ve come, how
grateful we should be etc etc. And I use the word Bollox advisedly.
Because that’s what it was. Pure Bollox. Harry knew all along that we
would do it. Privately, he is probably mad as a lorry that we finished
with as few points as we did. Privately, he knows that next season they
are all there for the taking. All of them.
He could have brought in a safe bet as keeper (James, Green), but he
didn’t. He stuck with the big, odd, whackjob. He could have sold Dawson,
or just let him continue having the regular schoolboy panic attacks. He
could have let Bale drift as the next floating showpony. He could have
let Huddlestone become Jan Molby but without the team-mates. BAE and
Bentley have come on so much since Harry and his team of coaches got
hold of them. Harry has coached the a*ses off them, and induced quite
remarkable rises in the performance levels of most of the team. Even the
recruitment of Sherwood and Ferdinand, when viewed retrospectively, is
genius – what PL player has ever heard of old jokes Kevin Bond and Joe
Jordan? Better get a couple of flash gits with nice suits and lush birds
that the players will listen too. Then sneakily make them better
players without them even noticing, while Shersy and Ferdsy regale them
with enthralling tales of mindless idiocy.
Harry made many errors this season. Playing Keane and Jenas for too
long. Not playing Pav. Getting the left sided choice wrong at times. But
on all of these occasions, he has righted his wrongs with startling
speed. Once all the debris had been cleared and the engine was tuned up,
the team was like a runaway train. And when the hard choices had to be
made, he made them. No sentiment whatsoever. Wilson, sorry, but you are
not the centre midfielder for the ‘next level’. Thanks, but no thanks.
He has learnt a lot. Nobody knows everything, something that certain
other North London managers would do well to remember.
And maybe I’m losing my fcuking mind here, but maybe, just maybe,
Harry is about to switch on all of us. Secretly, late at night, in
Harry’s palatial home in wherever, when Jamie has been tucked up in bed
in his Spiderman PJs, Harry lights up a fat Cuban cigar, and sits back
in his big chair, Tony Montana style. And he turns to Sandra and says ‘You
know what luv? We’re gonna rip this sh*tty little slag-league apart
next season. Wenger? fcuking losing it. Fabregas? Gone. Fergie?
Alzheimers. Drogba? Don’t worry; I’ve got a mindgame for that little
tart. Lampard? Modric. Mancini? Can’t speak English. Ferdinand, Essien,
Persie, all crocks. Vidic is off. Ok, so maybe give me Evra, or that
other little ponce who can play left back. And Rooney or Tevez. The rest
can fcuk right off.’ I’m not saying this because I necessarily
believe it. I’m saying it because I believe that Harry is at least 2
steps ahead of us all, and believes in the talent of himself and his
players a lot more than anyone else does.
All this transfer talk of Bellamy, Richards and Carlton Cole is
rubbish. He is going to sign 2 sh*t-hot strikers and 1 left back. He
knows that there is no such thing as standing still in this league.
You’re either going forwards or back. And forwards for us means
challenging the top 2. And you ain’t doing that with Craig Bellamy, much
as I have always been a fan of his play. Behind the façade that Harry
presents to us, there is a disturbingly ambitious and motivated man.
Harry wants to prove he is the best. Behind old cockney bagpuss is an
absolute beast of a manager waiting to be unleashed.
By guest-blogger, Chrisman.
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