Chapter 919 - 919: Whose Wembley? II

Dier lasted 5 minutes. Then he went through Eze again, knee height, and the referee had the yellow out before Eze had stopped rolling.

"OFF! OFF! OFF!"

Pochettino turned his back on the pitch and laced his fingers on top of his head.

JJ had been on the left touchline for all of that, hands on his hips, watching Aaron. When the free kick was taken he jogged off the line into the middle of the pitch. Aaron held his position. Alli jogged out to the touchline where JJ had been.

"RUBEN!" I was at the front edge of my paint. "PICK HIM UP! JJ! INSIDE!"

Neves went. He left the hole in front of our centre halves and went after JJ, and Kane walked into the hole Neves had left and turned in it with nobody near him.

It was my shout. I had made the hole.

Kane gave it to JJ. JJ gave it to Alli with his heel, without looking, and Alli gave it straight back with his, and JJ was through on Pope from 18 yards with Neves on the floor behind him.

Pope stood up. He did not go down early. He waited until JJ's left foot came back, and then he threw himself at it and got his chest in the way.

Whump.

It came back off him 10 yards. Tarkowski beat Kane to it by a yard and put it into the upper tier.

"POPE! POPE! POPE!"

Behind me on the bench Michael Steele had both fists clenched in front of his chest, and he was saying it quietly to himself. "Stayed up. Stayed up."

Sarah had her hand on my arm.

"If Ruben goes, Kane's free. If Ruben stays, JJ's free."

"I know."

"So who goes?"

Who did I have? Højbjerg, on the bench, and then who picks up Kane when Ruben goes? Tarkowski out of the back 4, and then who has Son? I watched JJ drift back to the left touchline in front of Aaron, and Aaron set his feet, and neither of them moved.

Aaron. Aaron was the answer, and he had been stood in the wrong place all half.

PRRRP.

"EZE, YOU'RE SHIT!" They booed him down the tunnel at 1-1.

Marcus was in the dressing room before the players, with the laptop open on the physio table and 1 picture on the screen. JJ's first half, every touch a white dot. 3 on the left touchline. 19 in the middle of the pitch, in the gap between Neves and Dann.

"He's not a winger tonight," Marcus said. "He's a 10 who starts on the wing."

I did not sit down.

"Aaron." He looked up.

"You're not playing right back." Nobody moved.

"Wherever JJ goes, you go. Left, middle, right. He goes inside, you go inside. He goes to Kane, you go to Kane with him. You don't come back to your position unless he does."

"Who plays right back?"

"Nobody. James drops in when we lose it." I turned. "James."

Rodríguez had a towel round his neck.

"I defend," he said.

Sarah was shaking her head. "Rose will run at him all half."

"Then Rose runs at James, and Scotty slides across, and Rose is 40 yards from his own goal every time we win it back." I kept my eyes on Rodríguez. "You defend."

He shrugged. "OK. I defend. Until Rebecca's 70."

"Ebere."

Eze took the towel off his head.

"He's on a yellow."

"I know."

"Every time you get it, you go at him. And you stay on your feet. Every time. However hard he comes."

"Every time," Eze said.

Bray had the set piece board out in the corner with Tarkowski and Dann.

"Kane goes near post. Marcus has every Spurs corner since August and it's near post every time." He tapped the magnet. "Tarky, you're on him before the ball's in the air. Scotty, you take Alderweireld. Nobody zonal on Kane."

When they came back out, the Spurs end had a white bedsheet with blue paint on it hung over the lower tier rail.

JJ. MOSS SIDE TO N17.

JJ saw it on his way to the centre circle and put his hand flat on his chest. Then he looked round for Aaron, and found him 1 yard away, and laughed out loud.

Straight from the kick-off he tested it. He walked off the left wing into the middle, slowly, glancing back over his shoulder, and Aaron walked with him.

He wandered right across to the far touchline, past Son, and Aaron wandered with him. Then he turned and jogged 40 yards back into his own half, right back to the Spurs centre circle, and asked Eriksen for the ball, and when it arrived Aaron was next to him with his hands on his hips.

"AARON! AARON! AARON!"

"You're joking!" JJ was laughing. "You're JOKING, Aaron!"

Aaron did not answer.

6 minutes later JJ scored anyway.

Kane took it off Dann on halfway and laid it to Son. Son went at Chilwell, and JJ stopped dead on the edge of our box, and Aaron stopped with him. Then JJ went, and Aaron went, and Son put the ball in the gap between them where only 1 of them was facing the right way.

JJ took 1 touch and put it past Pope into the near corner from 14 yards.

Thk.

1-2.

"LINESMAN! LINESMAN!" Our end, every arm up, and JJ checked the linesman too before he did anything. The flag stayed down.

Then he ran to the corner and slid on 1 knee with his right arm out in front of him and his left hand on the grass.

I had seen that slide on a pitch in Moss Side, on a Sunday, with mud up to his waist and 11 people watching.

"JJ! JJ! JJ!"

Kane had him round the neck and Son was on his back. He was looking over Son's shoulder at our bench. At me.

"Should've been ours, him," somebody said behind the dugout.

"He was," somebody else said.

I did not move. Sarah kept her eyes on her notebook.

"Are you alright?"

"He's good, Sarah."

"I know he's good."

"No." I watched JJ jog back to halfway with Kane's arm round him. "He's really good."

"GLORY, GLORY, TOTTENHAM HOTSPUR! GLORY, GLORY, TOTTENHAM HOTSPUR!"

They wanted the third straight away. Rose went down the left, the way Sarah had said he would, and James went with him and could not stop the cross. It came back to Alli on the penalty spot, with his back to goal and Dann climbing all over him, and Alli did not turn. He flicked it with his heel over his own shoulder, blind, and it went past Pope's hand and hit the crossbar, clang, and came straight down.

Son was first to it with the goal open. He hit it. Tarkowski was already sliding across the line, and it hit him on the thigh and bounced out to Chilwell. Chilwell put it out for a throw, and Tarkowski lay on the goal line holding his leg with both hands.

"OHHHHHHHHH!" Every hand under the arch went to a head.

Rebecca was on the pitch before the referee had waved her on. She knelt over Tarkowski with her hands on his thigh and her head down by his, and then she looked up at me and held up a flat palm. Dead leg. He stays.

"OH WHEN THE SPURS GO MARCHING IN!"

From the throw it went to JJ. He took it on his chest on the edge of our box, and Aaron was on his back before it had dropped. JJ rolled him and Aaron rolled with him. JJ dragged it back and Aaron's toe was there. JJ put his foot on it and looked for Kane. Kane was covered. He looked for Son. Son was covered too. In the end he turned and played it 30 yards back to Sánchez, and the Spurs end groaned.

"Stay with him, Aaron! STAY!" Neves, from the middle, clapping.

Pochettino was on the edge of his area pumping both fists at the away end, up, up, up.

"MAURICIO POCHETTINO! MAURICIO POCHETTINO!"

Eze went at Dier.

The ball came to him on the left of halfway, and he turned into Dier and went. Dier stood off him. Eze went past him anyway, and Dier stuck an arm out to grab his shirt and stopped his own hand in the air.

"DO IT! GO ON! DO IT!" Our end, begging him.

He did not do it.

"GO ON, EBERE!"

Eze went on into the space. Alderweireld came out to meet him, and Eze waited for him to commit and then chipped it over his head for Benteke.

Benteke did not let it bounce. He hit it on the volley with his right foot from the penalty spot, and Lloris reached it with 1 hand, and it went in off the hand and the underside of the bar.

Thwack.

2-2.

"BENTEKE! BENTEKE!" Benteke ran to the Holmesdale end and climbed on the advertising board. Eze did not go with him. He stayed on the edge of the box, looking at Dier.

Pochettino took Dier off 2 minutes later and put Lamela on. Dier walked the length of the touchline to the tunnel with his head down, and he did not look at Eze, and Eze watched him every step of the way.

Rebecca held her card up at me on 70 minutes without a word. I had Rodríguez by the arm at the line, with Hakimi stripped behind me.

"You've defended."

"Until Rebecca's 70," Rodríguez said. "Like I say."

He went off to his name from our end. Hakimi went on at right back, and Aaron kept following JJ.

"WE LOVE YOU PALACE, WE DO. WE LOVE YOU PALACE, WE DO."