Against all odds, Son Heung-min gives chaotic Spurs a flicker of hope

A nd perhaps this, too, was the history of Tottenham. As Son Heung-min stole in at the far post to tap in Harry Kane’s cross and complete the unlikeliest of comebacks, it was possible to sense the collective exhalation, not so much a euphoria as a relief. Perhaps, despite all outward appearances, this cause is not quite as unsalvageable as it seems. Perhaps, despite everything, there remains something here worth saving.

It was somehow fitting, too, that it should be Son to provide Tottenham with their life raft. More than anyone it is Son who has managed to encapsulate the sheer dolour of being Spurs this season: their mood ring, their doleful minor-key soundtrack. When Son is sad, it feels inconceivable that anybody else could possibly be happy. And so in his fitful return to form in recent weeks – six goals in nine games for club and country – there is perhaps an augury of better times ahead.

And if all this seems a bit much to be pinning on a home draw against a Manchester United side that did them the lavish favour of forgetting to play for about half an hour, then this is simply a measure of the small mercies Tottenham fans will accept for the time being. There were moments during a calamitous first half when a repeat of the capitulation against Newcastle United seemed not just possible but likely. Arms crossed, grimaces fixed against the windy drizzle, the 60,000 masochists in the stadium seemed collectively to accept the fate that was coming to them.

The mood at kick-off was neither toxic nor boisterous, but rather nonexistent. There is simply very little energy to this place at the moment, just a kind of gnarled bitterness punctuated with occasional half-hearted “Levy Out” chants. In a way this is a club that