Son Heung-min breaks the silence against Manchester City in Tottenham’s steel bowl of hope

It’s hard not to feel that having put so much faith and deposited so much hope into this heap of steel and plastic, Tottenham were in some way looking to it to bestow some sort of dividend

Half-time, and out on Tottenham High Road, all was hush. The roadblocks were in place, but there was virtually no traffic to divert. Yellow-jacketed stewards milled around, far outnumbering the few stragglers drifting in and out of the barbershops and kebab joints. In the distance, an empty W3 bus trundled in the direction of Northumberland Park. There was an eerie tautness, almost as if the high street was bracing itself for the rush to come.

In a way, it was a similar story on the pitch. The first 45 minutes had offered controversy and collisions, spirit and salvation, but still nothing to break the deadlock. Both sides looked vaguely subdued as they filed down the tunnel at the break: not calm exactly, but contemplative. The Spurs fans filled the gangways and concourses that were still new, and still new to them: wondering and pondering how this might all play out.

This is a frequent trope of these games, of course. Especially when the stakes are this high, and especially when there are three of them in a row. The first act is generally a reconnaissance exercise: not so much a commencement of hostilities as a continuation of the phoney war that preceded it. Even now, with 90 minutes left in this tie, it feels much less than half finished.

But on a chilly night in north London, Spurs did what they needed to. A microbrewery never executed a shimmy. An iron girder never scored a goal. But it’s hard not to feel that having put so much faith and deposited so much hope into this heap of steel and plastic, Tottenham were in some way looking to it to bestow some sort of dividend, to give them the invisible extra shove that can push a tired, thin squad over the line.

City, on the other hand, brand themselves somewhat differently. They have a home, of course, and a very fine one it is too, the Etihad Stadium and adjoining campus the centrepiece of a regeneration of east Manchester that goes well beyond football. But as a football club, they sell themselves as an idea that can work anywhere: a footballing spore that can just as easily be reared in Melbourne or Montevideo or the Bronx. If Tottenham’s appeal may be global, City’s is better described as globalist: an Emirati-owned club with a Catalan coach and an expansionist bent.

How does this translate to the pitch? Perhaps in City’s case, it loosely manifests itself as a sort of weathered battle-hardiness: an adaptable, shapeshifting mentality that seeks to blend into its environment by acting as if it’s not there. “Everybody talks about the stadium like it’s something special,” Kevin De Bruyne deadpanned on Monday. “Everybody has a stadium. Everybody has supporters.”

The point is, though, that until a couple of weeks ago, Tottenham didn’t have a stadium, a focal point, an object of devotion. In a way, those two itinerant years at Wembley forced them to develop their own latent resilience: the businesslike stoicism of the sales rep who’s always on the road. It’s no coincidence that their Premier League away form has improved markedly in the last couple of seasons: second behind City last season, second behind Liverpool this.

Hugo Lloris made a crucial save from Sergio Aguero's penalty (AP)

Perhaps a couple of seasons ago Tottenham would have lost this game, too. They might have pushed too hard, pushed too high, lost their composure, lost their shape, their heads dropping from the weight of the blood rushing to it. But this is an older team, a wiser team, a team better versed in the unique waves and rhythms of these games.

Dele Alli now knows that when his job is to look after Fernandinho, he needs to stay close to him, even when Tottenham are on the attack. Kieran Trippier now knows that when Danny Rose is bombing up the left, he needs to tuck in and cover rather than try and get to the far post. It was a mature, measured European performance by Tottenham, striking just the right balance between the cavalier and the cautious, between knowing when to keep a foot on the ball and when to pump it up the touchline.

Of course, City will argue that they were a decent Sergio Aguero penalty from striking a decisive blow in the tie. Yet in the roar of relief that greeted Hugo Lloris’s save, somehow Spurs managed to keep sight of their task. Shortly afterwards, Harry Kane got the ball just inside the Tottenham half, with home fans urging him forward on the counter. But Kane recognised he was unsupported, without options, and so calmly shielded the ball until he could lay it safely out to the left flank. A small touch, but a small insight too.

Kane failed to finish the game. Around 10 minutes into the second half, he hobbled down the tunnel, his game over, his participation in the rest of this three-game series in doubt. And though Spurs momentarily struggled to cope with the loss of their talisman, there was something admirable too in the way they recovered their poise and redoubled their efforts. For all City’s possession, their 10 shots on goal, the promising out-balls to Raheem Sterling and Riyad Mahrez, they produced very few clear-cut chances.

And so it was, 12 minutes from time, that Christian Eriksen dinked the ball hopefully into the right channel. Son Heung-min didn’t control the ball cleanly at first, and as it dribbled away towards the byline the chance seemed to have been lost. Diligently, Son gathered it up again, scooped it away from the line, took a look up, took a touch, sized up his next move. Son waited.

Before him, City defenders waited. Behind them, Ederson waited. Behind him, the crowd in the enormous South Stand waited, just as they’d been waiting for the last two years. Eyes wide, ears pricked, bracing themselves. It’s the funniest thing, but somehow in this enormous stadium, in this enormous game, as Son arced his left foot back to shoot, all was hush.