Crouch, Tottenham’s experienced striker with over 40 England caps and Champions League experience from his Liverpool days, allowed adrenaline and the enormity of the occasion to affect his judgement, made two rash, needless lunging tackles while Madrid were in possession in harmless areas of the pitch, and was sent off for two yellow cards after just 14 minutes.
Tottenham’s best footballer, Rafael van der Vaart, was deemed surplus to requirements at Madrid, which demonstrates the gulf in class between these two sets of players, one which Spurs aimed to bridge by launching balls towards their ship’s mast.
The tactic had served Tottenham well so far. Despite scoring just two goals in 27 Premier League appearances in the physical Premier League this season Crouch had hit seven in his nine Champions League appearances before last night. As in the San Siro in the last round Spurs immediately looked to pump diagonal balls into crouch from deep.
Perhaps Crouch knew that his height was one of the only, if not the only, way of scoring the hallowed away goal in the Bernabeu. Maybe he was too fired up. He was obviously not himself. As a television pundit remarked those were the only two tackles of that manner he had ever seen Crouch make.
It would have been interesting to see how much of a threat Crouch would have been against a centre-back and coach who know him well. The element not so much of surprise, but of inexperience was a factor in Crouch’s healthy European goal haul. Riccardo Carvalho limited the big man to just two goals in their thirteen meetings in English football, and Jose Mourinho knows how to deal with the direct approach from his Chelsea days.
The sending off was devastating for Spurs fans, of course, but also for neutrals such as myself, who had watched several rousing displays from a courageous Spurs side that threw themselves into unknown waters and had reaped the rewards. With ten men Tottenham’s uphill battle was nigh-on vertical. Their simple game-plan had been undone and with one man less and chasing possession for long periods, Spurs were simply too tired to provide any manner of comeback, as could be seen by the usually indefatigable Gareth Bale going down with cramp with some time left to play.
In truth the game, and indeed the tie, finished after 14 minutes. What a shame for all except relieved Madridistas, who were almost handed a bye in their first quarter-final appearance since 2004. “Tonto” they chanted as the lanky, disconsolate silhouette of Crouch left the field without so much as a glance of acknowledgment from his manager. Stupid indeed. How ironic that the hero of so many games before let his head, the weapon that his side relied on, get the better of him. Ultimately the hero became the villain in this Spanish tragedy.
