Permit me a short, victorious gloat: Thomas Frank’s lily-white reign is one-for-one, dispatching Reading with the effortless air of an Old Etonian skipping the queue at Fortnum’s. The goals came in a four-minute flurry after the interval—first from academy poacher Will Lankshear (49′), then teenage colossus Luka Vušković (53′), who strolled out of defence, exchanged pleasantries with gravity, and passed the ball into the corner like he was mailing a thank-you note to Brentford.
Spurs hogged 65 % possession, completed 90 % of their passes, and out-cornered Reading 12-6. We even fired 12 shots to their 10, which is practically baroque productivity for mid-July. The Royals worked Vicario twice; we made their keeper earn his appearance fee four times. If you’re keeping the ledger, that’s a net xConfidence of “slightly smug.”
Beyond the numbers, Frank’s early blueprint was obvious: a 4-4-1-1 that morphed into an asymmetrical high press, with midfielders rotating like sommeliers at a Rioja tasting. Alfie Devine looked bright between the lines, Djed Spence remembered he can sprint in straight lines, and the back line anchored by Vušković, managed to exit Berkshire without the customary preseason brain-fart. For 90 blissful minutes, Spurs defended set-pieces as if they’d actually rehearsed them. Miracles do happen.
Still, let us temper the palate. Reading finished 18th in the Championship last year and played like a side distracted by a Groupon advert. Fitness, not ferocity, was their brief. There will be sterner examinations starting soon in Asia and Germany where Arsenal, Newcastle et al will try to pry open our new-car-smell back four quicker than you can utter “Champions League déjà vu.”
But today, optimism is permissible. The youngsters scored, the veterans stretched, and Thomas Frank’s first touchline scowl promised entertainment. For once, Tottenham looked like a club with an idea rather than a group chat.
Lads, It Is Tottenham: remember August lurks like tax season. Bank the joy, update the spreadsheets, and pray this 2-0 turns out to be vintage rather than vinegar. Come on you Spurs.