The Ghost of White Hart Lane is far more than a sporting memoir. Authors Rob White and Julie Welch have taken us on a journey back to the days when Tottenham Hotspur was a household name in world football, both to savour the atmosphere of those times 50 years ago, and also to seek out the essence of a father, John White, that one of the authors never knew. But it is handled with such a light touch, that what could be mawkish is truly moving, almost, dare I say it, religious in its subtlety. At the same time, the recreation of those years, 1959-1964, when John White was at Tottenham say so much about the human qualities of players on 20 quid a week that shame the many pampered, tantrum-throwing adolescents in football socks of today. Sure the temptation is there for the authors to descend into bathos and didacticism about where Spurs subsequently lost the plot, but, apart from a fleeting comment that "Spurs did not evolve", they rightly leave those questions to other forums. A fine read, that brought tears to these Australian, Spurs-loving eyes of mine. Even Arsenal fans might be grudgingly moved.