Let’s be Frank… this summer I was full of hope.
With a trophy finally to our name, the appointment of Thomas Frank was the sensible decision. A manager capable of mixing the good, the bad and the ugly – skills that you need to be successful in the Premier League.
With the summer and Bilbao a distant memory, what we have seen so far this season has been a lot of ugly and bad football, and very little good. Once again, we are being forced into two camps: are you Frank in or out? Supporting Tottenham is a constant cycle of picking a side.
So here I am, waiting in line to hit the button: in or out. My position on Frank is difficult to categorise.
Sacking him before we have even had our turkey lunch is very bah-humbug, but in an age when your fate is assessed at every full-time whistle, you have to deliver something to keep the wolves at bay.
You cannot expect to sit comfortably in the dugout when you have only beaten one top-half team all season.
Frank’s biggest failing as Tottenham manager is there is nothing tangible that suggests that more time is the remedy. There are no patterns of play, our defence is as porous as it has always been and even our set-pieces, the lighthouse in the distance, has blown its bulb.
We have no maverick to pin our hopes on, no heroes ready to burst through the wall and scoop us up – just a collection of lost boys wandering around a pitch for 90 minutes.
You cannot back a manager who offers you no hope for the future. You cannot back a manager who questions us, the paying public. And you cannot back a manager who empowers his players to take pot-shots at us.
Frank has to give us some hope, as right now there is none.
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