For 20 minutes I feared the worst, as Spurs repeatedly breached our defence. Ferdinand and Iversen were proving too quick, too strong, and simply too good for the City rearguard. Thanks to some wayward finishing, and Walsh in goal, Bradford survived strong pressure.

We improved and even had a few chances, namely Saunders using his guile and experience to get into the box but shooting wide of Walker's goal.

The problem with Premiership football is that if you make mistakes, you get punished. Our biggest mistake is giving balls away cheaply. Passes too short or slow, poor balls out of defence straight to the opposition, free kicks easily defended against. We're learning, but the lessons are painful.

Blake replaced Windass as the second half started, with City looking for their first goal in over three games. He tricked and twisted a few times, but I doubt his commitment, whereas Mills, tireless as ever, got kicked in the face for his troubles.

Chris Perry headed Spurs into the lead after 75 minutes, and a goal for the Bantams seemed unlikely. The faithful chanted for Rodriguez and the Frenchman, a hero without kicking a ball, came on after 77.

Yet, being Bradford, we left it very late.

Cometh the hour, cometh the man. Recognisable by his trademark hair, he gives everything, commitment and passion to the end.

Each tackle, each pass, comes from the heart, he refuses to accept defeat. He loves the club. The fans adore him. Stooping, he headed the equaliser.

He is Stuart McCall. He is Bradford City.

GAVIN DIMMOCK

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.