The legacy of Portsmouth's unlikely Wembley win over Spurs and why it will continue to endure

The man who said nearly all the best things which happened in his life were unexpected wasn’t a Pompey fan. But he could’ve been.
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He wasn’t at Wembley exactly a decade ago this Saturday to witness one of the most remarkable and poetic afternoons in the 122-year existence of this city’s football club. But it feels like he was.

And he didn’t feel the lows of his side becoming the first Premier League club to go into administration and then have their relegation confirmed, before hours later delivering one of the most unlikely victories at the home of football. But it seems like he was there every step of the way.

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American poet Carl Sandburg wasn’t one of the 33,000 gathered under the arch in royal blue on on Sunday, April 11 2010, but the essence of his quote permeates an afternoon which many, many Blues fans rank as their finest.

Yes, the modern Pompey follower has been thoroughly spoiled with (hopefully when the EFL Trophy final arrives) seven Wembley trips in 12 years. And, yes, they can count an FA Cup victory among their successes there.

But carry out a straw poll of a cross-section of the Fratton faithful asking for the finest of those and sending Spurs packing on an exultant occasion will feature favourably. Every. Single. Time.

Why is that so?

There are, of course, many contributory factors. The poignancy of the win arriving at a moment when the club was on its knees. The timing of it being hours after relegation from the Premier League had been confirmed. And, yes, the small matter of it arriving against Harry Redknapp and those who’d followed him to the capital after leaving PO4 for the second time.

Pompey fans at Wembley for the 2010 FA Cup semi-final against Spurs Picture: Allan HutchingsPompey fans at Wembley for the 2010 FA Cup semi-final against Spurs Picture: Allan Hutchings
Pompey fans at Wembley for the 2010 FA Cup semi-final against Spurs Picture: Allan Hutchings
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But, ostensibly, the biggest reason was no one gave Pompey a prayer of pulling off victory against the high-flying and cocksure Londoners.

The bookies had Grant’s men pegged as long as an 8/1 shot to pull off the win. And those odds weren’t particularly unjustified.

The sheen had long since faded from the Blues squad in the dying embers of their seven-year Premier League stint and the Spurs fans zeroed in on the Wembley arch with a swagger as they predicted a field day for Bale, Defoe, Crouch & Co.

In comparison Rocha, Brown, Mullins, Mokoena and friends were footballing proletariat to the bourgeois big guns from the capital. But not on this day.

Jubilation among the Pompey players. Picture: Allan HutchingsJubilation among the Pompey players. Picture: Allan Hutchings
Jubilation among the Pompey players. Picture: Allan Hutchings
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There were factors which suited Pompey and the stoic counter-attacking approach laid down by Grant to frustrate the attacking verve their foes could call upon.

The Wembley pitch was unrecognisable from the pristine surface it perennially is these days, with its multi-event commitment including American football rendering it at times erratic and, as we would later see, untrustworthy under foot.

So the stall was set out for a rearguard action within the confines of Pompey’s 4-5-1 formation which would see confidence steady, grow and finally soar - and heroes made of Premier League cast-offs.

None more so than the man shown the door at White Hart Lane no more than 10 months previously. Ricardo Rocha had been packed off to the Belgian league before being chosen as a cheap option to fill one of the gaping holes in Grant’s squad

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With a point to prove to his former employers, the Portuguese epitomised his side’s indomitable spirit on the way to man-of-the-match plaudits.

But everywhere you looked performance seemed to exceed ability.

Aaron Mokoena, a player regularly derided for his limitations, heading and kicking everything in a makeshift defence with Hayden Mullins playing out of his skin as a left-back.

Everywhere else it was graft. Toil from Michael Brown anchoring midfield with Marc Wilson, another of those players operating in an unaccustomed role. Endeavour from Prince Boateng whose post-match interview used industrial Anglo-Saxon terminology to describe his fatigue with his running stats off the chart. And non-stop hard yards from Frederic Piquionne ploughing a lonely furrow up front.

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All of that laid the foundation for a 90-minute performance which, paradoxically for a game in which Pompey fans nerve-jangingly lived every single second, seemed to pass without a huge amount of incident. You couldn’t say that for the following half hour, though.

Michael Dawson’s slip. Piquionne’s pounce. Crouch’s disallowed goal. David James’ cheeky grin to the camera. Wilson Palacios’ trip. Aruna Dindane’s fall. Prince Boateng’s assuredness. Pompey blinking in Wembley heaven.

Even now the manner in which half of the ground turned from Spurs white to the red of the Wembley seats as their fans decamped en-masse while Pompey rejoiced, is one of the abiding images a decade on.

Another is the disconsolate figure of Redknapp attempting (and failing miserably) to conceal his angst as he carried out post-match press duties. There were magnanimous words of congratulations for his opposite number, but this was a man floored by the hope of a second piece of top-line silverware being taken from him. There’s been no more in his managerial career.

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But as an afternoon which vividly endures a decade on dashed Redknapp’s ambitions, it also created special memories for the people of Portsmouth. Parents embraced with their children, friends roared, laughed and bear-hugged in the shadow of Bobby Moore’s statue and tears were shared with loved ones no longer with us.

That’s the lasting legacy of the Wembley win we hoped and dreamed for, but like the best things in life when they come to pass, never truly expected.

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