“The two in the last round [by Ginola and Darren Anderton against Leeds] for a start. I’m actually going to give Ginola a pat on the back when he knocks one in from inside the six-yard box.”The Barnsley player-manager, John Hendrie, acknowledged that Ginola was probably the only player in Britain who could have scored such a goal. However, he argued that the action of the referee, Mike Reed, in dismissing Moses had turned the game Spurs’ way.Hendrie’s rationale was that Moses, playing in direct opposition to Ginola, should never have received his first caution It followed his first foul, on Ginola. His second arrived 40 seconds later for an unarguably illegal lunge at Les Ferdinand.”The ref cost us the game,” Hendrie said. “When their man [Steve Carr] was cautioned in the first half, the Spurs coach Chris Hughton jumped up and shouted: `That was never a booking.’ I told Chris he was spot on, but the referee booked the defender because we had appealed for the foul.”It wasn’t even a foul by Adie, let alone a booking, but George Graham jumped up and the ref fell for it. He would never have got the yellow card if George hadn’t shouted I don’t blame George The ref doesn’t have to listen to him.

He’s experienced enough not be conned.”On a spring-like evening, it was hard to credit that the game had originally been called off 11 days earlier because the stadium was under snow. Barnsley’s best hope lay in subjecting their Premiership visitors to a blizzard of early attacks, but Graham’s Spurs are a more resilient bunch than the team who lost a fourth-round replay on the same ground 13 months ago.Barnsley created only one real opening, Bruce Dyer heading narrowly wide shortly after Ginola’s tour de force. Spurs, without always asserting their superior class, saw Bullock tip over from Chris Armstrong and save a miscued shot from the same player midway through the first half.For the record, Ginola’s decisive run took him past Nicky Eaden, Robin van der Laan, Chris Morgan and Clayton Blackmore before scoring. He then embarked on another, pursued by ecstatic colleagues, and was still standing in his vest, waving his shirt to some of the 4,000 Spurs followers, when the game restarted.Barnsley: (3-5-2): T Bullock; Moses, De Zeeuw, Morgan; Eaden, McClare (Van der Laan, 66), Blackmore (M Bullock, 76), Tinkler, Jones; Hignett, Dyer (Sheron, 82). Substitutes not used: Appleby, Leese (gk).Tottenham Hotspur: (4-4-2): Walker; Carr, Vega, Campbell, Taricco; Anderton, Freund, Sherwood, Ginola (Sinton, 90); Armstrong, Ferdinand (Iversen, 81).

Substitutes not used: Nielsen, Young, Baardsen (gk).Referee: M Reed (Birmingham).. WHEN ISTABRAQ sweats then everything gets wet. Racing rivals become beaten, perspiring beasts in his wake and the record books get sploshed with fresh ink. The Irish horse won the Champion Hurdle here yesterday, just as he had done by a record-equalling 12 lengths 12 months ago. He became the first horse from his land to collect consecutive championships since Monksfield 20 years ago And he did it drenched in the milky flow of his labours.

“I’m very relieved he won because he got worked up and sweated profusely,” Aidan O’Brien, the winning trainer, said. “It’s a relief.”
The little horse had been led round the paddock by a breathing comfort blanket in the shape of his stablemate, Theatreworld. Moisture immediately began to marble on his neck, but then this was not an ordinary Festival day. The skies were clear, the thermometer largely red and a heat haze bounced off the top of Cleeve Hill.Most importantly for those behind the 4-9 favourite, his four little white-stockinged feet were not dancing in anticipation. “I wasn’t worried when he sweated up in the paddock because it was a very hot day,” Charlie Swan, the jockey, reported. “And he was not at all jig-joggy in the parade.”It was an unusually languid beginning to a Champion Hurdle.

Grey Shot and City Hall were the grey bookends to Midnight Legend in the early, torpid stages. Istabraq lobbed along, occupying the gap in behind them.Only at the top of the hill did urgency arrive. French Holly, the leviathan of the contest, had to go on here to make crushing use of his frame. He tried to squeeze the power out of his diminutive rival: it was the shotputter against the athlete, and it was the fast horse which won.Istabraq drew level two from home, his breastgirth bouncing lazily on the chest. Swan then fiddled with the reins and his partner shot forward The victory had been considered inevitable Now it was. “When he did that I knew there was no horse alive capable of catching me,” Swan said.O’Brien was watching developments behind the weighing room, in the sort of flouncy tent that should house a harem.