Tottenham v Arsenal: the game’s chippiest derby

Panic on the streets of Islington, panic on the streets of Tottenham. Yes, with apologies to the Manchester band that won’t be surge-pricing any time soon, it’s time for the chippiest derby of all. OK, there’s Celtic v Rangers, who have 17th-century geopolitics and Scottish company law to rage at each other about, and Boca v River seems like it can get pwopah nawty. From experience, Swindon v Oxford is one to swerve if you don’t like foul language and United v City can often resemble a seething mass of anoraks and buzzcuts, a right swagger-off. Liverpool v Everton? Often not a fair fight in recent years, despite Sean Dyche pulling off a heist last season.
So yeah, “north London is ours”. That’s what the victor in Sunday’s 2pm summit meeting will be crowing. They really don’t like each other, Arsenal and Spurs. Try getting a fan of one of them to say something nice about the other. You’ll be waiting a long time. And in the finest traditions of football rivalry, they are prepared to be utterly childish about it all. Hence the tradition that became “St Totteringham’s Day” – hilarious to Arsenal fans, a cringe-fest to outsiders – or a refreshed Jack Wilshere grabbing the mic on an open-top bus to ask Gunners fans what they thought of Tottenham, knowing full well the scatological response he would receive.
Only in May, Ange Postecoglou was flabbergasted that Spurs fans actually wanted their team to lose to City so that mob down the road couldn’t win the title. Ange, a straight goer from a part of the world where winning is everything, to be enjoyed with a few sledges chucked on the griddle, had never heard the bloody like. Perhaps he knows now why so many associated with Spurs refer to Arsenal being a south London club, when they deserted Woolwich in 1913, an Old Firm-like test of memory.
Thankfully, such silliness often finds its way into the football. Last season saw a 2-2 draw followed by a 3-2 Gunners away win where they needed to fend off a second-half fightback. That the two clubs have been fighting over similar territory in recent years has added further spice. Though Arsenal currently having their eyes on loftier prizes such as the actual Premier League title rather than a top-four place has ratcheted up the stakes, too. The absence of Arsenal slayer supreme Harry Kane – 14 goals from 16 matches, an awesome record – aids Mikel Arteta, whose own record of five wins, three losses and that draw is decent, too.
Why panic? Tottenham have started sluggishly, were rubbish against Newcastle last time out, and Ange is no longer seen as the second coming of Bill Nicholson. And Arsenal are having a right old wobble, drawing with Brighton when evil City win every game, Declan Rice suspended, Mikel Merino’s shoulder-gah and Martin Ødegaard’s ankle knack producing a wail heard across the galaxy. That neither Postecoglou nor Arteta back down in the chippiness stakes hopefully adds to the prospects of white and black (!? cheers, PGMOL) shirts swarming all over each other and perhaps a few scenes we really don’t want to see but would really like to see. As childish as possible, please.
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David Beckham joined mourners at the funeral of former England manager Sven-Göran Eriksson in his home town of Torsby in Sweden to hear tributes to a “genuinely kind” man who “loved good food and drink and travelling first class”. Addressing full pews in the Fryksande church, and hundreds more watching outside on a big screen, priest and close friend, Ingela Alvskog, spoke of a final months that had been “full of life” despite Eriksson’s diagnosis with terminal cancer of the pancreas. Eriksson, who died at the age of 76, had left “so many beautiful memories” and had “brought so much joy” and “a lot of laughter” to the lives to his friends and family, including his 95-year-old father, Sven, and children Johan and Lina and partner Yaniseth Alcides, she said. The hour-long church service, which switched between English and Swedish, included renditions of Elton John’s Candle in the Wind, Frank Sinatra’s My Way while a brass band played You’ll Never Walk Alone. Go well, Sven.
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