I want my Spurs mojo back!

I am glad he’s gone. Relieved even.

There, I’ve said it. Bye Frank! 

Not relieved in a dramatic, dancing around the kitchen way, but genuinely glad that this strange, draining chapter is over.  From the moment Thomas Frank arrived at Tottenham Hotspur it never felt right, and the longer it went on the more it chipped away at something that had only just started to feel special.

Under Ange I loved watching Spurs. I did not watch out of obligation or habit. I watched because I enjoyed it. Even when we conceded sloppy goals or got caught high up the pitch, I understood what we were trying to do. We were brave and we were being proactive for the first time in years. We were building something that had an identity.

I loved watching Ange walk out onto the pitch. There was a calm authority about him. He stood still, looked composed and projected belief. The players looked like they loved him too. Their body language was different. There was connection and warmth. It felt like they were all in it together, a team which believed they could. And they did. Something to go in the cabinet after the 17 year trophy drought. 

But it still wasn’t enough for the Spurs suits. Too far down the table, despite the money Europe brought with it. Then we didn’t start this season well. In fact it was a shocker. 

When Ange left and Frank came in, it never felt like the right cultural fit from day one. Frank is obviously intelligent, structured and diligent, and I do not doubt for a second that he put the hours in, but Tottenham is not simply a system that needs optimisation and careful planning. Spurs are emotional, they are tribal, and they demand an instinctive understanding of what the club means to the people who live and breathe it.

The football became more cautious and dull - and terrible. It felt like we were trying not to lose rather than trying to own games. We managed neither. Gradually I realised I was not enjoying it. I would just check the score instead of watching because it felt draining. 

And then there was the chewing gum.

It sounds trivial, but it became symbolic. Frank chewing like it was an Olympic event on the touchline, jaw working constantly, created this sense of agitation rather than the authority portrayed by Ange. Every time the camera cut to him it reinforced the feeling that something was off. Ange stood there composed, still, projecting calm conviction. Frank looked like he was wrestling with the moment. It might be petty, but leadership is visual as well as verbal.

The Arsenal coffee cup incident was worse.

If it was a genuine mistake, it showed a lack of instinctive understanding of what the North London rivalry means. If it was ignorance, that is troubling. If it was indifference, that is worse. And when it blew up, he should have apologised properly and passionately because that rivalry is not decorative, it is generational and it runs deep.

Instead it was brushed off and minimised, which made it feel like he did not fully grasp the weight of the badge. That moment crystallised the disconnect.

There were interviews too where it felt as though responsibility drifted sideways. Comments suggesting supporters needed to be more supportive rather than fully owning what was happening on the pitch. It created distance rather than unity. Under Ange, even when he was firm, it felt like he was shielding the squad and reinforcing belief. Under Frank it sometimes felt like he was insulating himself.

When Ange spoke recently about Spurs talking like a big club but not always acting like one, about the gap between ambition and backing, it rang true. He challenged the culture of caution. He called out the contradiction between the motto and the mindset. That is what leaders do when they care.

So yes, I am glad Frank has gone.

Not because I enjoy managerial sackings, but because this never felt aligned. My Spurs mojo left when they sacked Ange. The shine has gone since then. I am still a supporter and probably always will be, because Spurs are now tied to my husband, to OzSpurs, and to that night we finally lifted a trophy. But the spark dimmed when we chose caution over conviction.

We always had identity, but Ange gave us belief. He gave us something to rally around. We should have backed that. Instead we drifted.

And I am tired of drifting - I need an anchor. I’m hoping for Poch back - at least he had some personality. 

What Spurs need is not another technical reset. They need personality. They need someone who understands that this club runs on emotion as much as on data.

That is why people still talk about Mauricio Pochettino the way they do. He hugged players. He built relationships and made us believe we might just do it - even if we didn’t win anything for the cabinet.  There was a sense that he cared deeply about the club and that the players would run through walls for him.

Spurs at their best are anchored by belief and personality. By managers who embody something larger than the next press conference. Ange had that, Poch had that - Frank, well, literally and figuratively, to be frank, he didn’t. When the club aligns with the right kind of leadership, everything feels coherent.

That is the anchor we need now. 

Tottenham will always be about daring, about emotion and connection. When we forget that and retreat into caution we lose ourselves. And boy are we lost at the moment. Like a rudderless boat - actually, even the captain is a liability - but that’s another story! 

I’m glad this particular chapter is over, because it gives us at least the chance to find our way back to who we are supposed to be. And I want to feel enthused enough to actually watch the game instead of reading my book or staying in bed, googling how many we lost by and asking Andrew how bad it was.  I want my Spurs mojo back and that will only happen when the club remembers itself.