All time favourite players: Dimitar Berbatov

It was October 2006. The England cricket team were gearing up for a 5-0 thrashing at the hands of Australia; Kim Jong Il's North Korea were panicking the world by planning their first nuclear test; and Tottenham were 1-0 up away to Besiktas in the infancy of their UEFA campaign. In a cacophonous, cauldron of an atmosphere in Istanbul, Spurs had performed extremely impressively but were in urgent need of a second goal to kill the game off. Having suffered a distinctively stuttering start to the season, fans could have been forgiven for biting a fingernail or two.

In the 63rd minute of the game, something happened. Something that both decided the game and decisively began a relationship between player, football club and fan alike. Dimitar Berbatov, a £10.9 million Bulgarian summer signing for Spurs, had scored just the one goal since arriving at the club and, although the panic sirens weren't being sounded yet, there were whisperings of slight discontent.

Suddenly, Robbie Keane released Berbatov with a clear enough path to goal. He had a defender to beat but Baki Mercimek wasn't ideally positioned and was struggling to keep up with the tall forward. As he advanced into the opposition area, Berbatov dragged the ball back onto his left foot, evading the desperate sliding tackle from the defender. With just the keeper to beat, the stadium waited for Berbatov to fire an expected effort towards goal with his left peg. And, as if to confound everybody watching, he dragged it back onto his right just as the keeper came for him, leaving him with an empty net.

A millisecond later and the Bulgarian was gratefully accepting the praise and congratulations of his team-mates and I was left staring at my TV in South London in total and utter wonderment. It could have been a number of things: the fact that we had gone two up in a tough away game or Berbatov managing to get another goal perhaps. But, looking back now, it was the sheer intelligence and flair of the goal that did it. The way that he seemed to be about five steps ahead of everyone else, the way he had total confidence in his own ability, the poise and serenity that he demonstrated in calmly putting the ball away. It was staggering to watch and left me certain we had a serious player on our hands.



Nearly three years have passed since that night, that goal. And Dimitar Berbatov is still in my eyes the best player I have ever seen in a Tottenham shirt. I say this as someone who never got a chance to witness the greats of yesteryear: Hoddle, Chivers, Blanchflower, Gilzean, etc. Berbatov played in an era where I was young enough and impressionable enough to be completely taken with him and I make no apologies for that. Had I the years on my side to have seen Tottenham teams of the past then perhaps my opinion would differ. But one can only work with what he has seen and, by that logic, Berbatov was and is the finest I've ever seen. Using the same logic, my father, a man who brings years of Tottenham experience to the table, also rates Berbatov as one of the most superb he has seen.

It's the touch that does it. That delightfully elegant first touch that other players would kill for. Berbatov's ability to control a moving football is something that astounds. They used to say Hoddle could land the ball on a coin from 40 yards. Berbatov could probably be blindfolded, spun around a few times, pushed into an open space and still effortlessly bring the ball down and still have a good idea of where best to play it. Ability such as this is paramount to Berbatov's play. His brilliant use of a ball and the time and space that his control can create is priceless. It's one of the reasons he formed such a superb partnership with Keano - they would feed off each other, Keane running into the space provided by Berbatov's vision and class. Berba possesses perhaps one of the best first touches in today’s game.

See for yourself and prepare to be amazed.



Once Berbatov had begun scoring after that night in Turkey, there was no denying how good he was or could be. Tottenham had undoubtedly picked out an absolute gem. At Bayer Leverkusen he had potential but at Spurs he was getting progressively better. Together with Keane, they formed one of the most deadly strike partnerships in the Premier League. Feared by the division and coveted by the top four, Berbatov was hot property and he fired Tottenham to a second successive fifth place finish in the league under Martin Jol.

Inevitably, once the success came, so did the vultures. The media began publishing rumours of top four interest in Berbatov and subsequent unrest from the Bulgarian. It seemed as though they were desperate to see him flourish at somewhere, anywhere other than Tottenham. The extent of the truth is unknown. Berbatov stayed the summer and prepared for his second season as Tottenham looked to crack towards the top four themselves. No-one could have predicted the unbelievable series of events that unfolded at N17 in the opening months of the next season.

Tottenham suffered a dreadfully poor start. Bad results led to bad morale and an ill-feeling around the squad. The hacks inevitably seized upon negative Spurs stories like moths to one big flame. Berbatov is unhappy - he wants out! He’s desperate for a move to a Champions League club! Berba and Jol in massive fallout! Berbatov to be unveiled at Old Trafford in January!

Of course, the majority of it was bullshit. But it was clear that Berbatov wasn't entirely happy at the situation and as we continued to struggle, it became painfully evident that he was a moody little so and so. A player with undoubted talent but with little passion, heart and determination. He even looked lazy, like he couldn't be bothered at times. It was masked by the exceptional standard of his play but, in spite of him scoring goals and playing brilliantly, he was highlighted as a frustratingly lethargic player.

The incident up at Newcastle was a painful moment. Tottenham got spanked 3-1 and Berbatov, on the subs bench, appeared to refuse to warm up at the request of Jol. Jol latterly dismissed the 'argument' as a misunderstanding but the overriding feeling was one of Bulgarian unhappiness. When Jol and Tottenham parted company soon after, Berbatov was reported as telling the Dutchman that if he (Jol) left then he would go with him. Reports of their relationship are sketchy - it's not clear whether they respected each other or not. But after Jol left, Berbatov ended staying till the end of the season under Juande Ramos.

It was worryingly inevitable that he'd be on his way come summer however. So Tottenham fans sat back and hoped to fully appreciate the genius at work for as long as they had him. And, to his credit, he continued playing like a champion. Scoring some stunning goals and providing unfathomable assists, Berbatov was quite simply brilliant. It was a depressing realisation that the better he played, the more appetising he looked to his rich suitors. Still, it would have taken a cold heart not to be thoroughly staggered by his four goals against Reading in the 6-4 rollercoaster, surely his best display in a Lilywhite shirt.



Man United were constantly linked with him and when the season ended, so began a summer of cat and mouse between United and Spurs. When Berbatov eventually left Tottenham, on the last day of the transfer window, it was an oddly satisfying moment. The furore he had caused in the early stages of the season were highly damaging - Ramos refused to play him in the first three games, believing him to be a 'negative influence' on the squad. As points were thrown away, fans patience rapidly decreased and when Berbatov made his way to Manchester that day, illegally or not, it brought an end to a painfully prolonged transfer chase. There was a sense that it was finally over and that we could move on with our own season, albeit with Frazier Campbell.

Berbatov had good enough season last year with United. He didn't score that many goals, nor did he stand out like he did at Tottenham. Surely a case of big fish, little pond and vice versa. Berbatov's talent is undoubted at United but his languid style is picked upon by unsatisfied fans and his penalty miss in their FA Cup semi final with Everton led to a barrage of momentarily angry fans. Still, he won the league in his first year, was part of the Carling Cup winning squad and played in a Champions League final. So you tell me if he's moved on to better things or not.

There's bitterness regarding Berba around Tottenham - many people find it difficult to let him go and wish him the best. Indeed, I was one of the fans booing and offering derogatory statements his way when United came to the Lane in December (although I voiced my own discontent whilst watching on Setanta). The way he left may have sealed his fate amongst the die-hards in the White Hart Lane faithful. The manner of his departure and his demeanour at the time left a bitter taste in the mouth. However, it was widely accepted that he was meant for better things than Spurs. Sure, it was great having him for a couple of years. But here was a player so blessed with unbelievable skill, it would be criminal to hold him back.

It took a while for this to hit me. I was angry. I was upset. I went through a period of utterly despising Alex Ferguson and United for what they had done. But when the dust settled and Berba started scoring a few up north, I felt it best to let the hatred fade away and simply appreciate just how phenomenal he was. Hindsight is indeed a priceless commodity and Berba had more good days then he ever did bad.

That goal against Charlton at The Valley where he demonstrated the outrageous control to knock it past his man on the halfway line, spin through 180 degrees, chase after the ball and curl it past the keeper to put us in front. The Carling Cup semi final (the first one) against Arsenal at the Lane where he scored a bullet header and celebrated with the crowd like a local hero. That volley up at Middlesborough where as the ball was played in it seemed absurd to go for goal, let alone with his first touch. Berba certainly had his champagne moments at Tottenham and they were goals, assists and touches that I'll never forget.

Having already mentioned the goal against Besiktas, I'll plump for another favourite memory. It's one that I'll be eternally grateful to him for and one suspects that 40,000 odd fans inside Wembley that day will too. One thing about Berbatov's apparent 'lazy' nature that never bothered me was his penalty taking. Where most players favour a long, powerful run up or a severe, fierce strike of the ball, Berba's approach was simple. Jog up, take a split second to see which way the keeper is going then side foot the ball into the net. It was a touch nerve racking at first but when he started regularly putting them away, the doubts subsided.

At Wembley in the Carling Cup final, with us a goal down to Chelsea, Berbatov chose the perfect moment to write his name in the Tottenham record books. The second the ball came up off Tommy Huddlestone's knee onto Wayne Bridge's arm, you could tell he wanted the penalty. He placed the ball down and stood calmly a few metres away - an island in a sea of nervous fans and players. Didier Zokora couldn't watch. I couldn't watch. Thankfully I opened my eyes just in time. Berba stepped up, sent Petr Cech the wrong way and slotted the ball in, drawing us level in the game and sending Spurs fans around the country into unashamed euphoria.

It was the perfect moment - a fusion of goal, celebration, significance and atmosphere. Berba pumped a determined fist towards the Spurs fans behind the goal and roared passionately towards them as if to encourage them to cheer even louder. Surrounded by celebrating players, Berba seemed alone, somehow - a saviour for the long suffering Lilywhite hordes so desperate for a fleeting glimpse of success and silverware. Tottenham, as if they didn't know it already, had found their hero even if he was to depart in the coming summer. That we went on to win the game makes the goal all the more sweeter. My memories of Berbatov proudly hoisting the trophy aloft and enjoying the medal-laden lap of honour are some of the most poignant I have of the Bulgarian.



Whatever becomes of Berbatov is of no consequence for Tottenham. I chuckled when rumours abounded that we'd enquired as the availability of re-signing him, in the wake of Robbie Keane and Jermain Defoe returning to the club. Berbatov is a world class player and deserves his shot at winning big trophies. The way he conducted himself in his departure from us was admittedly disgraceful but one cannot deny him a season or two at the top. At United, he doesn't shine week in week out like he did for us. Perhaps the plethora of talent surrounding him makes it harder for a player to stand out in the way Berbatov has shown he can.

It's easy to be resentful about his time with us. But instead I choose to cherish the two the years when we had the privilege of having him at our club. His grace, timing, poise and elegance made him a quite beautiful player to watch and I wait patiently for the chance to witness a player of similar ilk to once again grace our famous football club.

Meanwhile, Berbatov can rest safely in the knowledge that my grudge with him ended long ago.