We expected no more.

A tired Spurs side pushed their chests out for one more attempt to complete their season (yes, I haven’t forgotten the Champions league, which is the icing on the cake). Tottenham did what they needed to do, and that was to finish in the top four.

We started off the season well and dipped quite dramatically in the league near the end, but thanks to the efforts of Chelsea, United and the Gunners we limped our way to a top-four spot.

The day was surrounded in glorious sunshine; fitting for a tiring end to the season.

We all arrived at our places before 12 noon. The players were prepped and ready, and I must say raring to go, even though they were tired after a hectic season (and of course just coming off the back of an exhaustive semi-final).

We wanted a fourth consecutive top-four finish in the Premier League, which we achieved, making it our best run in the competition since 1964. And the sixties were undoubtedly a magical time for us. Well, not just us but the whole western world.

We also mustn’t forget that we spent no money in that season. In fact, the supporters were singing “if you spend money you won’t make the Champions League final”. Putting Liverpool’s spending spree to one side, we did well. So you could say it was a miraculous season.

Even though we got knocked out of the FA cup early, we managed to to get the league cup semi-final, where a mediocre Chelsea team knocked us out on penalties. And to be honest, that was the only way we were going to be knocked out of that competition. But I don’t think Pochottino was too worried about getting knocked out of two cup competitions, as we saved ourselves for the most crucial final in our history. And what is the FA Cup nowadays? It has been replaced by the Champions league in our ambitions and hearts, unless you are a club from the far reaches of the 7th and beyond (the dark hole of football).

Our magic man of the moment Moura was cheered by the home crowd with every touch, as we seized the early initiative against a tepid Everton through Dier's close-range finish. Only three minutes on the clock and we were turning the cynics out there on their heads… but let us not speak too soon. We pulled back on the throttle thinking that we had achieved enough. Not so! As Everton came back after the break. I knew it was too good to last. In the 69th minute, the Arsenal failure Walcott scored, as he did in our Christmas encounter (and to be honest that didn’t do him any good as we eventually thrashed them 6-2).  Four minutes later Tosun got their second goal. It was Eriksen, absent for much of the game, who stepped up to deliver a moment of quality from his free-kick to ensure we would not depart for Madrid with a defeat.

Thirty minutes were left on the clock after that goal, including injury time. But no more goals came, and the whistle was blown to end the current campaign. Everton could go back home to their Liverpool (it is what it says on the tin, a city, unlike Everton, a place… Liverpudlian humour!), while we celebrated our players and things to come in the Final.

Son collected all the awards on offer (mainly two); Player of the year and goal of the year. He didn’t play in that Everton game as he has been banned for three games.

Then it was time for the walkaround with the players showing off their children, loved ones, along with all their jewellery and smart accessories, kind regards of the Season ticket holders, hospitality packages, TV rights and whatever other money is out there for the clubs. Once all the sparkles had been shown it was time to go back in and allowing the supporters to depart to their chosen habitation.

For me personally, I just smiled, glad the season has come to an end because I didn’t know how far we could have pushed our luck if the season had continued. We were like a horse on its last legs. Now we must brush ourselves down with a damp cloth and prepare for one of our (to be) greatest moments in our history. Once that is completed we must evaluate the team, allow those that want to go, go and start to rebuild a team that has gone past its sell-by date.

Let us have some interesting facts to round off the season with.

Christian Eriksen's goal for us was the 1,067th Premier League goal this season, beating the total from any previous 38-game season in the competition. Not that he will be able to go beyond that as he will probably be gone by the summer. He has been a great player for the club, but at times deadwood or lacklustre. Probably thinking about all those riches he could earn abroad.

Our run of four consecutive top-four finishes in the top-flight is our best run since a run of five between 1959-60 and 1963-64. The fifties and sixties were magical times, let us hope that it is an omen for things to come. Now we’ve got a new stadium and achieving getting to a final we’ve never graced before, might be the dart that propels us into a new era of trophies and Glory, Glory days and nights.

Dier's opener for Spurs after two minutes and 49 seconds was the earliest goal conceded by Everton in the Premier League since November 2017. Good old Dyer getting himself into Everton’s not wanted record books, or is that our record books against Everton? Who knows, who cares? A goal is a goal, but a goal is more than just a goal when it achieves something special, and in this match, we didn’t accomplish anything other than a poxy draw.  A defeat would have still allowed us to complete fourth spot. What we actually wanted was that extra goal that would have put Everton to bed and pushed Chelsea down a place.
                       
The Everton player Theo Walcott, and the ex-failed-Arsenal man has been directly involved in 10 goals against Spurs in the Premier League, his joint-most against a single opponent in the competition. No wonder he is so liked by Tottenham players and supporters. Maybe we should give him a special award, such as a trip to a Black hole in space to see if dross does really float where dross shouldn’t float, or better still, disappears forever, never to return. But let us not be too unfair to Theo, after all the whole point of a punching bag is to punch the hell out of it, one, to keep the puncher fit and agile, and two… well, for the heck of it!       

Now the season has ended and we await the Champions League final in just over two weeks time. God, aren’t you glad you are a Spurs supporter… any other team would have created downheartedness and morbid tenancies.









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