Tottenham 3-1 Alkmaar (3-2 on aggregate) (Odobert 26’, 74’, Maddison 48’ | Koopmeiners 63’)
TOTTENHAM HOTSPUR STADIUM – Like a Ming vase over a freshly polished floor, Ange Postecoglou has carried the proverbial Europa League trophy precariously over some earth-shattering moments in Tottenham Hotspur’s season. With victory over AZ Alkmaar, the gleam of that much-promised silverware edges tantalisingly closer.
For better or worse, the significance of this competition has spiralled into a storm-whipped frenzy. The idea has been allowed to percolate – partly due to Postecoglou’s own reminders that he always wins something in his second year – that his project, his very future, was dependent on this tie.
Little wonder then, that two Wilson Odobert goals, sandwiching another from James Maddison, prompted a collective exhale. Dominic Solanke provided the first after Son Heung-min’s press had forced a defensive error, Maddison smashed a second into the bottom corner and Odobert finished the job on a Solanke backheel.
Still, the terraces’ jangling nerves could not settle. It is inadvisable to operate under these kinds of stakes for very long.
Barring a hair-raising Guglielmo Vicario touch, Spurs had little to fear until a horrible mix-up between Odobert and Lucas Bergvall – otherwise excellent – let in Peer Koopmeiners to briefly draw Alkmaar level on aggregate. But for an imperious Yves Bissouma block, they might have done it again.
That simply could not be. The pursuit of happiness has almost become too big, too great a strain. Back in Jose Mourinho’s day, All or Nothing was a fly-on-the-wall documentary. Now it seems to have become a de facto club motto.
The notion that Postecoglou’s credentials ought to be judged on this pressure cooker competition alone is misguided. Few modern managers are brave enough to attempt what he has in the Premier League, no matter how starkly the wheels have fallen off domestically. The highs – and indeed the lows – of his reign cannot be compressed into 180 minutes of knockout football.
If a decision is to be made in the summer, it cannot be boiled down to Europa League = good, no-Europa League= bad. A mindset that makes lifting it less likely.
In his Barcelona heyday, Pep Guardiola used to prepare his players for Champions League finals by telling them to treat the occasion like a training match. It was a way of alleviating anxiety before it had truly hit – and certainly no expensive watches were handed out just for getting there, as famously happened prior to Spurs’ own European showpiece in 2019.
Perhaps what is really needed to ease the mind is a recalibration of what success looks like. So much of the noise about trophies, or lack thereof, comes from the outside.
Nobody can decide what matters more – the football or the frills, leaving Spurs engulfed between two inimical positions: that winning is everything and nothing, that it is both substance and style that will win the day.
A Europa League title, and a return to the Champions League, would nevertheless mean so much as Spurs head into the last eight. This is a group that has given every last ounce of themselves and yet were knocked out of two cups within four miserable February days.
From back to front… what a goal by Tottenham
Wilson Odobert at the double — Spurs back in front in the tie!
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— Football on TNT Sports (@footballontnt) March 13, 2025
The depiction of these blindingly loyal Lemmings following Postecoglou into a barren abyss was never quite fair, but they knew it was the narrative that would take hold if they did not deliver. And so it all came down to this.
The return of the defensive cavalry was a rallying cry. With Cristian Romero and Micky van de Ven starting together for the first time since 8 December, there was less of a soft underbelly beyond Tottenham’s attacking carapace for Alkmaar to pierce.
The first leg had felt like a snapshot of all those problems in one – exhaustion, injuries and immeasurable pressure on young shoulders that finally told when Bergvall flicked in a freak own goal.
On the return in north London, the peculiarly nicknamed “Cheese Heads” came hoping to find a Cheese Room – the mythical fromagerie that was reportedly to be built at the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium.
It never actually materialised but became a symbol of all that is supposedly wrong with the modern club; the flaxen anti-Levy banners have not gone away but this all might yet have a happy ending – if they can only keep their heads.
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