Tottenham's infinite optimism pays off yet again in the face of Champions League adversity

Everything was in place for Tottenham to endure a disappointing evening, but they stood tall and now stand a chance of qualifying for the knockout round

Tottenham were 10 minutes away from exiting the Champions League before Christian Eriksen's intervention (REUTERS)

Wembley glistened under the white lights: not with newness, but with moistness: the thin film of rain and tension. Above, the ribbon of empty red seats in the upper tier seemed to carry as much heft as the 57,000 that were occupied. You could call it a two-thirds full Wembley, or a third empty, depending on your perspective.

You used to be able to see the whole arch from the top of Wembley Way. Now you can only see the middle of it, the rest obscured by the battery of cranes and high-rise habitations and swanky new investment opportunities, encroaching on the stadium and its space like an army. It feels claustrophobic and desolate all at once: like a stadium trying to prevent the churn of new money from swallowing it whole.

Tottenham’s fans don’t want to be here. It’s in the middle of an urban wasteland, the parking costs a fortune and the rush-hour crush on the Metropolitan Line is barbaric. Most of all, it’s nowhere near Tottenham. The parking is virtually non-existent, the Victoria Line is only a marginal improvement on the Metropolitan and it’s still an urban wasteland. But it’s their wasteland.

Tottenham’s players don’t want to be here. For all but the biggest games, you can hear the noise swishing around in the empty seats, sucking the atmosphere out of the place as you squelch your way around a pitch that looks like it’s been used for grazing. Mauricio Pochettino doesn’t want to be here. Even the FA tried to sell it.

Tottenham had just enough to keep their Champions League hopes alive (EPA)

And yet here they all were, for now: a transitional home for a transitional team, fighting what felt like a hopeless battle. At least the equation was simple enough for Tottenham: lose against Inter Milan and they were out. Draw and they were out. Win, and unless they could pull out a miracle in the Nou Camp, they were still probably out.

Still, Tottenham set about their task with vim and vigour. They played much the better football, had the bulk of the possession, the better of the chances, and yet the game refused to break from its holding pattern. Plenty of promising half-openings, the odd shot from distance. But not the big chance, not the golden corridor, not the killer blow. Somehow it felt like time was leaking away, that Tottenham’s well-meaning industry felt just a little weary, that above all they needed to move much quicker.

It was a decent metaphor for where Spurs are as a club. Their rise over the last few years has been breathtakingly real. But the closer you get to the summit, the more rarefied the air, the finer the margins, the harsher the judgments, the shorter the patience. Progress only comes in the most tiny and painful increments. Sometimes it feels like Spurs are on a treadmill set to its highest speed, sprinting furiously just to stay where they are.

Many people believe it’s now or never for Tottenham. The longer they wait to claim one of the big prizes, the further English football’s financial giants will recede into the distance. Then again, they were saying that three seasons ago when they blew the title against Leicester. That was their chance. They were saying it two seasons ago too, when they were pipped by Chelsea. They were saying it this season.

Christian Eriksen scored from the bench to keep Tottenham in the competition (PA)

And yet, here they still were, for now: infinitely optimistic, infinitely patient. Lloris to Alderweireld. Back to Lloris. Lloris to Aurier. Aurier to Winks. All the while working the ball around, all the while running hard, all the while probing against an Inter Milan team set up specifically to thwart them. Jan Vertonghen nudged the ball wide from four yards. Tottenham’s dreams were beginning to dissolve into the wet night.

But then, having patiently scurried around all night, Moussa Sissoko saw an opening. And in an instant he was rushing through it, and in another instant the Inter defence was sliced open, and in another ball was at Dele Alli’s feet, and though he could have taken the shot himself, he too waited another instant, seeing Christian Eriksen outside him moving into an unmarked position. And in the time it took the ball to ripple gently down the back of the Inter net, the previous 79 minutes had melted away. Once more, Tottenham’s infinite optimism and infinite patience had paid off.

Following this club can feel like something of a trial at times. For all the sumptuous football, for all the genuinely compelling characters, for all the thrill of the ride, Spurs fans must find it hard to shake the sense that they’re travelling without ever threatening to arrive. The big tests keep coming. And yet, as the whistle blew for full-time, once more Wembley - two-thirds full, not a third empty - swelled with belief. Arsenal this weekend? A breeze. Barcelona at the Nou Camp? Bring them on. When the prize is this big, after all, a glimpse is all you need.