Tete's Fourth-Minute Ambush Ends Tottenham's Home Comfort

Ortalama Futmetrix Puanı: 42/100. A chaotic opening act and a rare underdog triumph couldn't overcome a fundamentally one-sided affair that lacked sustained Intensity.

When the First Six Minutes Change Everything

Kenny Tete didn't wait for permission. The Fulham right-back struck in the fourth minute—a goal that set a tone so violent it seemed to stun the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium into silence. Two minutes later, Harry Wilson doubled the advantage. The Balance had tilted catastrophically toward the visitors before most supporters had settled into their seats.

This was textbook ambush football. Tottenham controlled 63% possession but looked sluggish navigating Fulham's compact shape. The hosts' passing accuracy (87%) masked a deeper malaise: they were being out-thought, not out-run. Ten corners generated only two shots on target. Fulham's Stakes were survival; Tottenham's were maintaining top-half respectability. The Upset was already brewing.

Kudus' 59th-minute reply sparked a second-half resurrection narrative that never materialized. Tottenham pressed harder—14 shots total, yet only five found the target. Fulham's defensive discipline, anchored by Joachim Andersen's commanding 8.0-rated performance, held firm. The Dane was immovable at center-back, reading danger before it arrived.

The match lacked the intensity of a genuine six-pointer. Five yellow cards and zero red cards tell the story of a contest that simmered without boiling over. Set-piece pressure (10 corners for Spurs) created a narrative of dominance without penetration. Fulham's 37% possession felt like a masterclass in doing more with less—three shots on target against Tottenham's two, despite being pinned back for 63 minutes.

This wasn't a vintage upset. It was a mugging dressed as tactical brilliance. Fulham executed a game plan with ruthless precision in the opening minutes, then absorbed pressure with the discipline of a team fighting relegation. Tottenham had the ball, the territory, the chances—and none of it mattered.