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| The anti-Levy crowd have become the very thing they say they hate! — Tottenham Hotspur Blog News |
A Jackanory Tale for the Misremembering Masses
Are you sitting comfortably, boys and girls?
Good.
Then, welcome and let’s begin reading today’s story: The Curious Case of the Man Who Forgot What Winning Meant.
Once upon a time, there was a man who supported Tottenham Hotspur.
Or so he claimed.
He had seen us win. He had seen us lose. He had seen us lift trophies that shaped European football history.
And yet… in May of 2025… when his beloved club lifted silver under impossible conditions…
He didn’t celebrate.
He sulked.
Why?
Because it wasn’t the right man who delivered it.
Because it wasn’t the right competition.
Because — and let’s be very honest — it didn’t suit the narrative he had committed to back in November.
So instead of owning the contradiction, he did what many now do in the age of social media certainty:
He rewrote history.
The UEFA Europa League?
Second-tier rubbish.
Bill Nicholson?
Must’ve just got lucky then.
Trophies?
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| A Football Snobbery Tale — Tottenham Hotspur Blog News |
This was the comment, left on my recent article, Reddit Experiment #5, that inspired today’s story boys and girls.
“Ange made us winners of a second-tier trophy… made us losers in the Premier League.
Romero wants out. Son’s done. Good day to you.”
But it wasn’t a good day.
Not for him.
Because what he accidentally revealed wasn’t a hot take…
It was the moment he stopped being a supporter.
You see, boys and girls —
Supporters support.
That’s what the word means.
They back the club through tough storms and shifting tides.
They celebrate the rare moments of triumph — not tear them down because they arrived from an unexpected captain.
But this man didn’t support.
He followed.
And followers only cheer when it fits their mood, their timeline, or their agenda.
So while Tottenham Hotspur became champions of Europe (yes, really — the same way we were in 1963)…
He sat on his island of bitterness, rewriting history and dismissing the clubs ‘Glory, Glory’ years.
Which, in its own way, is quite the achievement.
But not one we’ll be adding to the honours board.
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| Football is no longer a 90-minute game. It’s a 365-day business judged by people who don’t go — but do shape the brand. — Tottenham Hotspur Blog News |
Chapter 2: The Part-Time Fan and the Power of Perception
Are you still with us, boys and girls?
Not long now…
Just one more little lesson — before juice and biscuits.
You see, our curious friend didn’t just forget what winning meant.
He forgot where he was living.
Not physically — no.
(Although judging by his view of football, one might assume he’s stuck in 1974…)
No — we mean digitally.
Because today’s world is not run by programmes or matchday queues or the 5:15 post-match grumble in the pub.
Today, the internet runs everything.
Perception shapes truth.
Social media sets the tone.
And the noisy few — often the least informed — control the narrative, not the many silent realists.
This is the world Daniel Levy lives in.
This is the world Ange Postecoglou operates in.
This is the world I live in.
Because part-time fans think social media is divorced from life.
They don’t see the long game.
They don’t understand brand perception, sponsor confidence, or the global marketplace Spurs now operate in.
They tune in for 90 minutes…
They shout a lot…
And if the pixels on their phone show a league table they don’t like — they demand scalps.
But here’s the thing he’s missing:
Football is no longer a 90-minute game.
It’s a 365-day business, broadcast 24/7, judged on Twitter, shaped on Reddit, debated on YouTube, and dissected by millions who don’t attend the games — but do shape the brand.
And guess what?
Sponsors care what those people think.
And Brennan Johnson giving one clap and turning his back proves that what is said on social media affects player performance and, therefore, team performance on the pitch.
It didn’t exist.
So when a section of Spurs fans vomits negativity online…
When they downplay silverware…
When they imply Bill Nicholson’s European triumphs were second-rate…
They’re not just embarrassing themselves.
They’re damaging the club they claim to love.
They’re toxic.
They’re loud.
And in this century — the century of noise — that matters.
Chapter 3: The Season of the Silver Ghosts
Are you still with us, boys and girls?
Good — you’re doing better than some grown-ups.
Now then…
Let’s talk about Arsenal.
(Shhh… don’t say it too loud. We’re not supposed to mention the club down the road in our bedtime story — it might frighten the little ones…)
You see, Arsenal had a nearly season.
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Knocked out in the FA Cup semi-final.
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Knocked out in the Champions League semi-final.
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Finished second in the Premier League — again.
And what did they win?
Nothing.
No trophy.
No open-top bus parade.
Not even a thank-you card from UEFA.
But Spurs?
We also reached a domestic semi-final — the League Cup.
And then — under pressure, under fire, and under siege from, unbelievably, our own “supporters” — Spurs won the UEFA Europa League.
A major European trophy.
Silverware.
Real, tangible success.
And guess what?
Both clubs qualified for the Champions League.
So who had the better season?
The team who lifted a cup…
Or the one who nearly lifted two… but dropped both?
It should be obvious.
It should be Spurs.
But the noisy mob say otherwise.
You see — they moved the goalposts again.
Last year, they said:
“We want trophies!”
This year, we gave them one.
So they changed the chant:
“We want league position!”
What next?
“We want vibes?”
Because by any fair measure — by footballing logic, not Twitter tantrums — Spurs had the better season.
Spurs won silver.
Arsenal collected sympathy.
This is exactly what these people have been moaning about on social media.
Exactly the same thing.
What do we do now.
I know, we’ll moan about the things we didn’t win.
Yeah, let’s do that.
So why are these so-called fans siding with a club that won nothing?
Why are they glorifying a season of almosts, when we delivered a real result?
They complain when we deliver seasons of nearly!
Because the truth is painful.
And the truth is this:
They’re not supporters. They’re protestors.
They don’t back the club.
They bait it.
They don’t want success.
They want to be right.
Even if that means undermining their own team to prove a point…
…That was already wrong.
And if you think it couldn’t get more pathetic…
Let’s remind ourselves of the final insult.
Tottenham Hotspur fans — some of them actually inside our stadium — wanted us to lose.
Yes.
They wanted Spurs to lose against Manchester City…
Just to stop Arsenal winning the league.
They didn’t back the badge.
They didn’t back the players.
They backed their hate.
Hate for Arsenal…
…and hate for their own football club’s success.
Imagine that.
Utterly disgraceful.
Chapter 4: The Spreadsheet Supporters Who Hate the Spreadsheet Boss
Still with us, boys and girls?
Good. Because this next part’s important.
You see, our friend — and those like him — say they hate Daniel Levy.
They call him a spreadsheet merchant.
A money man.
A man who prioritises league position and revenue over glory and silver.
But here’s the twist…
When Tottenham Hotspur lifted a major European trophy…
These same people dismissed it.
“It’s only the Europa League.”
“We finished 17th.”
“We didn’t qualify for the Champions League the right way.”
So let’s ask the obvious question:
What exactly are they angry about?
Because if they’re upset we didn’t finish higher…
If they’re upset we didn’t make more prize money…
If they’re now ranking seasons based on revenue brackets…
Then guess what?
They’ve become the very thing they say they hate.
They’re actually backing data over silver.
Standing for balance sheets instead of moments of glory.
Choosing status over substance.
And the best part?
They don’t even know they’ve done it.
They still think they’re fighting “for the soul of the club” — while undermining the exact thing that built it:
Bill Nicholson’s legacy of winning major European trophies.
You can’t chant “Levy out” because he only cares about money —
…then call a trophy meaningless because it didn’t come with a Top 4 bonus.
You can’t demand ambition —
…then reject the first European trophy in 41 years.
Unless, of course, this was never about ambition…
It was about control.
Again.
Chapter 5: The Legacy They’re Too Snobbish to Defend
Or The Curious Case of the Man Who Forgot What Winning Meant
Well done, boys and girls —
If you’re still reading, you’ve outlasted most of the angry men in the back row.
Now let’s take a little trip…
Back in time.
The year is 1963.
Tottenham Hotspur become the first British club to win a major European trophy — the Cup Winners’ Cup.
Under Bill Nicholson.
With pride, passion, and prestige.
Then in 1972, we win the inaugural UEFA Cup.
And again in 1984, under Keith Burkinshaw, we win it on penalties at White Hart Lane.
An iconic night.
A defining moment.
These were our European nights.
Our legacy.
And now?
The same competition, with a new name — the UEFA Europa League — is being dismissed by our own fans as “second-tier” and “meaningless”.
And by the very fans who marvelled, like I did, in those “Glory, Glory” times.
Let’s be clear:
If you think Ange’s trophy doesn’t count…
Then neither did Nicholson’s.
Neither did Burkinshaw’s.
And neither did our club’s claim to European glory.
That’s the snobbery we’re dealing with.
Not footballing insight.
Not historical awareness.
Just modern ego wrapped in social media validation.
Because when you say:
“It’s only the Europa League…”
What you’re really saying is:
“Our European history is worthless.”
And that’s not a critique of the manager.
It’s not even a protest.
It’s a betrayal.
A betrayal of our past, our honours board, and every player who’s ever lifted silver for Spurs.
So if you’re going to write off Ange’s success…
Then go ahead.
Take a marker pen to 1963.
Score through 1972.
Erase 1984.
Because you can’t celebrate history while trying to rewrite it every time your ego takes a knock.
That’s legacy vandalism.
Chapter 6: The Followers Who Forgot How to Support
Are you still with us, boys and girls?
Good — not long now.
Let’s finish the story together.
Once upon a time, there was a football club called Tottenham Hotspur.
It had supporters — real supporters.
They cheered when we won.
They stood tall when we lost.
They understood what the word “support” meant.
But slowly… something changed.
Support became conditional.
Fans only supported if we played well.
Only believed if the manager was fashionable.
Only stayed loyal if the league position sparkled for Instagram.
When the going got tough —
They didn’t get going.
They got toxic.
They booed their own players.
They blamed the club’s owners.
They demanded the sacking of a manager who just delivered our first European trophy in 41 years.
“But it’s only the Europa League,” they said.
“We finished 17th!” they shrieked.
“Sack him!” they tweeted.
They weren’t supporting.
They were sulking.
They weren’t backing the club.
They were trying to bend it to their will.
They weren’t supporters at all.
They were followers.
Just 90-minute fans, turning up for the highs, and storming off at the lows.
Supporters support. Followers perform.
The anti-Levy brigade demand “trophies”…
Then dismiss the ones they’re given.
They rage about “spreadsheet football”…
But then measure success with league placings and data tables.
They’ve become the very thing they claimed to hate.
And in doing so, they’ve made it impossible for the chairman to do anything but act.
Because unity sells.
Mutiny doesn’t.
Sponsorships suffer.
Perception falters.
The brand is bruised — by the very people who claim to love it.
So the story ends like this:
A manager gave us silver.
The fans gave him scorn.
And the man who brought back European glory?
They told him to get out.
Because they don’t support.
They follow.
They moan.
They expect.
They forget.
They forgot what winning means.
They forgot what supporting means.
But not you, boys and girls.
You know better now.
THE END
(…for now.)
COYS
