His constant brinksmanship is beginning to feel like Groundhog Day

Again? Seriously? Again? Daniel Levy must survey the morning papers like Bill Murray roused by his 6 am alarm call in Groundhog Day.

“OK campers, rise and shine...” Except, instead of Sonny and Cher and the inane chatter of radio DJs, Levy is confronted with the latest bulletin from Mauricio Pochettino’s press conference, the latest round of brinkmanship, the most recent revelation running counter-productive to everything the club wishes to achieve.

How he could have quit, or he would have quit, or he doesn’t buy the players, or he’s the coach but not the manager. Last week Pochettino was walking out had Tottenham won the Champions League, this week he wanted a demotion in the title because he had no say in transfer dealings. It is all, Pochettino’s disciples say, part of a cunning plan to get Tottenham’s transfer business done.

This is his way of applying pressure. He creates uncertainty to motivate Tottenham to keep him happy. For Levy, surely, it’s becoming tiresome.

Pochettino is a brilliant manager, everyone agrees on that. But Tottenham are a brilliant club, too. They have built the best club stadium in the country, they have an academy system that feeds a steady stream of young prospects, and they have consistently broken their transfer record during Pochettino’s tenure. Moussa Sissoko, £31.5million; Davinson Sanchez £36m; Tanguy Ndombele £54m. It might tumble again if the club can pull off the deal with Real Betis for Giovani Lo Celso.

This is advanced as Pochettino’s motivation. Yet when did it ever help negotiations to give the impression the manager is teetering on the edge half the time? Certainly when he is a very viable target for Real Madrid, or Paris Saint-Germain, or Manchester United — or any number of clubs that could have a vacancy in the not too distant future?

Supposedly, Pochettino is playing a clever game. Yet how clever is it really? For a game to even be necessary Pochettino must presume Levy is ready to jeopardise all that development, all that advancement, for the sake of a cheap deal.

The chairman likes his own form of brinkmanship, obviously, as the minutes tick away towards the deadline, but he would have to be a fool to sell his club short now. Is the relationship between chairman and manager really so distrustful that Pochettino has to engage in this charade? Does he genuinely not believe the club are trying to deliver his players?

Tottenham have responded coolly to the latest drama, saying Pochettino is part of the four-man recruitment team and, no, they will not be changing his title to coach. Maybe they just think he needs a cuddle. The fear, of course, is that he genuinely likes the sound of that train in the distance; and all of this so-called politicking merely lays the ground for the day he decides to catch it.

 

Sulking Bale deserves no sympathy   

 

Being photographed on the golf course while apparently ‘too ill’ to travel with Real Madrid to a pre-season fixture is hardly helping Gareth Bale’s claim of poor treatment. Whether Zinedine Zidane has an irrational grudge against him or not, this image merely feeds the negative portraits of a player most interested in lowering his handicap.

That his agent, Jonathan Barnett, said Bale was playing golf to ‘clear his head’ after the collapse of a move to China only compounds the issue. Whether Bale has been harshly treated by Zidane or not, the one thing Madrid do not owe him is money. It is not their job to take a huge loss so Bale can earn in the region of £5million a month in China.

He has been magnificently rewarded in Spain and it is not unreasonable for Madrid to recoup some of their investment with his resale. They are not standing in his way. They are simply holding out for their share.  Certainly, Bale sulking on the putting green will elicit no sympathy. He is no longer mourning his place in Madrid’s team. He is just a very rich footballer, denied the chance to become even richer. That’s not a sob story and it’s not even personal. It’s just business.

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