Rafa’s 1998 Heemskerk Disco Dancing Champion medal was still very much at the forefront of his mind

Apologies for the lack of posts in recent days. It’s been fairly non-stop ever since this blogsworth returned from Blackburn at 1am on Monday morning. Yes, that’s right, it’s not all dodgy Internet streams and crowded pub visits to watch games for me.

Project Blackburn has to go down as a success for the team – our record at Ewood Park is formidable in recent years but you do feel it always takes a lot of effort for us to pick up the points. And so it proved on Sunday. But pick them up we did and it’s now five wins from six.

But enough about the team. Here’s my official account of Project Blackburn:

Saturday, 9pm: Meet friend in London. Drink beers whilst watching Match of the Day and contemplating just how miserable a five hour drive back to London will be on the back of a defeat.

12am: Attempt to sleep. Mind races over the various ways in which we could lose the game.

Sunday, 6.30am: An early start for what we ridicule as a ridiculously early departure time for the supporters coach from White Hart Lane.

7.15am: The bus leaves at 8am and we’re still stuck at Kings Cross thanks to the London transport system effectively shutting down. Panic for a bit. Decide to get a cab straight to the Lane.

7.20am: No cab is interest in taking us. They’re all twice as miserable as we are and coming off the back of overnight shifts. Panic some more.

7.30am: Finally find a cab willing to drive the 6 or so miles to Tottenham.

7.55am: Board supporters coach parked outside the stadium. Find the only two seats next to each other, right at the back. It’s hot, uncomfortable and a tight squeeze but no matter… we’re on our way!

8am: Still haven’t left yet.

8.10am: Still haven’t left yet.

8.15am: Now we’ve left.

9.25am: Arrive at Newport Pagnell services for 45 minute stop. Breakfast opportunity is seized upon immediately. Start praying for a good performance from Sebastien Bassong.

10.30am: Okay, I’m not one to complain excessively but this music is so morose. It’s hardly the kind of aural fare to get one excited about a long coach journey. How about a bit of Radio One or 6Music? Or even commentary of the Rugby World Cup final? Apparently not.

11am: Spot Villa Park as we drive through Birmingham. Plans for the next away day are born.

11.30am: Getting pretty bored now. At least the music’s changed – it’s now 90s disco on repeat. So glad my adolescance was in the 00′s and not this godforsaken decade.

1.30pm: After what seems like (and what actually was) hours, we’re at Ewood Park. It’s an odd part of the world. The drive towards the stadium is like crawling through a sleepy village but then suddenly you’re past the away supporter’s pub (packed full of the Spurs massive) and it’s there. It’s a nice looking ground from the outside and nowhere near as small as it looks on TV.

2pm: Pie and a pint. This is what we’ve come for. The choice of pies is typically Northern. Friend chooses Chicken Balti, which smells foul but he insists is glorious. I go for the interestingly named ‘meat and potato’, which makes no attempt to say which meat it actually contains. By the time I’ve finished it, I’m still none the wiser. Was it worth it? You betcha.

2.30pm: Friend has a bet on a 3-0 Spurs win and Modric to score first. His optimism scares me but then I suddenly come around to his way of thinking – we’ve been in top form recently and these lot are bottom of the league. We should do a number on them. But this is Spurs and things are never straightforward. Meanwhile, Balotelli puts Man City one up in the Manchester Derby and Crouchy scores for Stoke against Arsenal, raising a massive cheer from the Spurs fans in the stadium.

2.50pm: Take our seats in the away end, just behind the goal to the left. Again, it’s a nice ground. Noticable amount of empty seats in the home stands. Blackburn fans actually in the ground are as silent as a tomb. Spurs are making all the noise and it’s an exceptional atmosphere and a privilege to be part of… w-w-whats that!? Man City are 3-0 up!?

2.55pm: Players come out. Bale straight over to the away section to applaud the fans. Legend.

3pm: Kick off and we immediately look in control.

3.15pm: City have won 6-1. *passes out*

3.16pm: Adebayor feeds Walker who absolutely burns past his man down the right wing. His cut-back is steered home by Rafa and we’re one to the good. Pandemonium in the away end. We’d started well so that goal was definitely coming.

3.30pm: We’re still bossing it. Oh wait, they’ve scored. We’re not anymore. A high ball into the box towards big Chris Samba comes off a combination of Kaboul, Parker and Samba himself and Formica is all alone in the box to ping it home. Ripples of applause from the home fans, who still don’t appear to be in the mood to give Steve Kean or his side any support.

3.45pm: Half time and after the equaliser they’ve been in the game a lot more than we would have liked.

4pm: Players are back out for the second half and Paul Robinson makes his way over to the away end where he recieves an absolutely incredible reception from the Tottenham fans. The look on his face suggests it really means a huge deal to him. Loyalty in football is remarkably scarce but to see a player retian the same bond with the fans even after he’s left the club is perhaps the most heartening aspect of the day.

4.10pm: How people can devalue van der Vaart’s value to the side is mystifying. After a period of pressure, Assou Ekotto manages to feed Rafa 20 yards out, who curls his first time shout past Robinson and puts us back in front. He celebrates right in front of us. Adebayor feels the need to excessively point to the name on Rafa’s shirt, as if to remind us who’d scored. Erm, cheers Ade.

4.30pm: The Blackburn aerial bombardment has begun and we’re keeping them out so far, even if we do look a bit anxious under the high ball. Samba is the man causing us the most threat and every set piece has his name on it. Redknapp brings on Danny Rose for the disappointing Lennon – a substitution that I’m still trying to comprehend to this day. We were crying out for Sandro to help Parker shut out the game but he remained seated. I’m sure there was a good reason for it all…

4.35pm: Still haven’t figured out the reason but should probably concentrate on the game – we’re hanging on here.

4.45pm: Defoe on for Rafa with minutes to go. Tough for Defoe to only get a couple of minutes of game time but, until he makes himself un-droppable like Rafa has, there’s not much that can be done.

4.49pm: Final whistle goes just as Defoe was winding up to score from halfway after Robinson had gone up for a corner. It must be noted that despite the pressure we were under, we looked remarkably composed towards the end. Defoe and Assou Ekotto disappear straight down the tunnel. Redknapp applauds the away fans for a good 15-20 seconds. Walker, Modric, Bale, Parker, Kaboul and Adebayor walk closer towards the away end to register their applause, which is warmly recieved by the Spurs fans.

5.05pm: We’re back on the coach and ready to go. If things go well here, we could be back in London by about 9.30, which would be awesome.

Some time between 5.30pm and 6.30pm: We get stuck in awful traffic around Manchester. The coach temperature has tripled (probably not that much) since the morning and there’s even less room to move. We drift in and out of sleep and pray for it all to be over soon.

7pm: It’s still not over. It’s pitch black outside. We have no idea where we are. This is awful.

7.15pm: Someone decides it’s a good idea to put on the 2002 classic ‘Ali G Indahouse’. Raises a few laughs from me but it’s clear no-one else onboard is watching it. Shame. The scene where Charles Dance reads out the joke budget to the House of Commons is worth its weight in gold.

8.30pm-ish: The film ends. I don’t know who long I’ve been asleep for. I don’t know where we are. This has been a pretty hellish trip so far. Why can’t they have one of those inflight maps you get on planes where it tells you where abouts you are and how long is left?

9pm: Stop at Newport Pagnell again, despite the fact everyone’s really keen to get home. Our plans to get the 10.07pm train out of White Hart Lane is dead. Our plan to get the 10.37pm train is in serious jeopardy. It dawns on us both that we probably won’t get home till at least 12.30am. And we’ve both got work early the next day. Why the f*ck did we choose to go to Blackburn?

9.30pm: Okay. This is beyond a joke now. I’ve never been a fan of long car journeys but this is something else. We have zero idea of how far out we are and it’s ridiculously uncomfortable. And, to cap it off, there’s about as much atmosphere on the coach as there is at an Arsenal game. Everyone’s tired, miserable and desperate to get off.

10pm: Yep, we’re not going to make the 10.37 train.

10.35pm: Finally pull up outside White Hart Lane. It’s been a five and a half hour journey. We contemplate just how appalling it would have been had we lost.

10.40pm: Rock up at White Hart Lane station and prepare to wait 25 minutes until the next train to Liverpool Street. Discuss how much of a good day it was, despite the coach journey, but there’s a suspicion that we’re both sick of the sight of each other now, having spent the past 26 hours in each others company.

11.07pm: Train leaves WHL. Dead empty. We can seen the end of the tunnel but the harsh reality is that we’re still at least a couple of hours from home.

11.30pm: Reach Liverpool Street and bid each other farewell. I enjoy my mate’s company immensely, especially on football trips, but if I’d had to spend one more hour on a coach or train with him, there would have been violence. And I’m reasonably sure he’s feeling the same way about me. We both resolve that our next away trip will be no further north than the Midlands and that we’ll give serious consideration to taking the train.

11.55pm: Arrive at Waterloo and discover there’s no train home for another 25 minutes. I’ve spent 80% of this day waiting for things.

Monday, 12.20am: Leave Waterloo. Eyes have long since started to glaze over.

1am: Home. What a day. It’s been a 19 hour effort but well worth it. Spurs weren’t at their best but they had more than enough in them to see off Blackburn, an indiactor, if it was needed, of how strong we are these days. How often in the last ten years can could Spurs have gone away, not played near their best and still won? What’s more, that’s 16 points from a possible 18 and we’re up into 5th. With a plethora of winnable games on the radar, the next month is a giant opportunity. And all of this without a single mention for Bill Nicholson – on the seventh anniversary of his passing, what a way for Spurs to honour the great man’s memory.

Another three points next week please.