For many a tortured soul, Peter Crouch’s exit from Tottenham was as good as a new signing. A two-season career which peaked in Manchester on that famous evening- briefly spiking into the green with a Young Boys beating hat-trick and the heroics in Lombardy- withered somewhat terminally in its final months. By all accounts a lovely chap off the pitch; an embodiment of frustration and blundering ineptitude on it. If the goal at Eastlands was a defining moment in his time at Spurs, the other goal in Eastlands was, equally.
Not to mention that spazzy red card at the Bernabéu. Or the way he always used to laugh every time a feebly rolled effort would be gulped down the keeper’s neck when scoring looked a whole lot easier. Or for making Spurs fan...