Matchweek 12
The week in which I had to get through the 2-year anniversary of Pochettino's sacking AND deal with rumors of him joining another Premier League club
Mauricio Pochettino getting sacked from Tottenham less than six months after taking them to the Champion’s League final is the biggest footballing heartbreak that I’ve had to go through.
It was news that shook the football community and was met with disbelief from fans across club-affinities; sure, they’d had a bad spell after losing the final, but nothing that would warrant this kind of reaction from the decision-makers in the club? In the end, it didn’t matter of course because the decision had been made and it was a release of built-up tension that had been surrounding the team for a while. They say sacking a manager sparks change in the dressing room and keeps players on their toes, and it resulted in a few wins, but not against the big names, and at the end of the season we still ended up on a meager 6th place (as was all publicly broadcasted through the Am*zon Pr*me show All or Nothing which of course happened to cover that season). Alongside Pochettino’s sacking (literally days apart) I was nursing a freshly broken heart (non-football related) and it was not long thereafter that the impact of the oncoming pandemic was a fact, sending us into uncertainty and heartache, a state that we’re yet to fully emerge from.
Two years on, I’ve managed to free myself from the chains of expecting that Poch is going to come back anytime soon (mainly becomes of his near-constant reassurance that he wants to return one day) and I’ve surrendered to the whirlwind of managers passing through our team before now reluctantly accepting the reigns of Antonio Conte. He’s not had time to do that much yet, but it’s clear that it’s a show of intent much stronger than the appointment of Nuno Espirito Santo which has left an impact on the players (for better or worse). The question remains of whether the manager is actually a good fit, and much like people let go of their hairgrooming in lockdown, I’ve let go of any expections that I had on this football club. So far it’s already been a rollercoaster with a bumpy 3-2 win over Vitesse at home, a 0-0 draw against Everton away and yesterday’s scrappy 2-1 win against Leeds at home.
During the days leading up to the 19th I could tell that I was a bit more on edge than usual, catching myself thinking about it more than I normally would, but the date itself passed by rather quietly. There was only one time when I caught myself out, doublechecking on my phone that yes, this was indeed the day that I’d been waiting for and all I could muster up was a wry smirk, acknowledging the twinge in my heart before going back to what I’d been doing.
Is this what surrender feels like?
Maybe. But I also turn my head, much like a petulant child, everytime he comes up in the media or in conversation. I still struggle to engage with anything Pochettino-related - before he was announced as PSG-manager I was very aware of his movements as a free-agent, tip-toing around the news sites. I have yet to watch a full PSG game with him on the sidelines because I can’t stand seeing him in that tracksuit. I started crying when I saw his comment about how painful it was for him to watch Tottenham’s games after the sacking.
I don’t really know what this means.
Am I over it?
On most days I’d like to think so, as I’ve stopped having impromptu passionate speaches, to any and all who would listen, about the unfairness of the whole saga. I don’t get attacked by random bouts of sadness stemming from his absence. I no longer recall his catchphrases at the drop of a dime, and I mainly write my poetry about other things now.
I also have days, where I’m constantly negotiating acceptance with myself as those disproportional, almost child-like feelings of refusal rise up within me; “it was not supposed to end like this!” as I recall that journey towards the Champion’s League final, the memory in hindsight somewhat rose-tinted (but nonetheless absolutely magical and real). Sometimes I catch the wave of genuine bitterness towards the establishment of football and its obsession with results and making bank as the drivers of decisions, as opposed to investing in and carrying out long-term goals and plans (it’s usually somewhere around here that I reel myself in and get back on the ground).
There’s no real conclusion to this, other than: healing is constant. Also from the loss of a beloved football manager.
(one last thing: do we want to hypothesize on whether there’s any correlation between this significant date and Adele, super-mega-Tottenham-fan, releasing her new album on this very day?)
But there’s no way in which this time could’ve been allowed to just pass unnoticed, without maximum amount of emotions being stirred up of course. In the wake of Manchester United’s sacking of Ole Solskjaer the never-ending rumour mill has been churned once again, as talks of Poch being unhappy at PSG are circulating with a possible return to England on the cards, namely Manchester. This is not the first time that he’s been associated with the job, as it’s been a talking point since before he was let go by Tottenham. I don’t want to speculate as I obviously have no clue what’s going to happen - personally it doesn’t feel too realistic but then again, we have established that my judgement might be clouded by the way I feel for this manager.
On the topic of managers, but pivoting 180 to the less-than-desirable end of the spectrum, another article just broke from the Washington Post on abuse claims emerging regarding the newly-departed Red Stars coach Rory Dames and the lack of action from US Soccer, and I am fuming. We will discuss this more, so watch this space.