Tottenham showed no progress at Newcastle despite Cristian Romero heroics

The lack of excitement for a quite incredible moment told the whole story: Thomas Frank is currently sapping my enjoyment of watching Tottenham.

Now, I know Frank doesn't owe me anything personally, but he has a responsibility to oversee an on-pitch product that supporters, the lifeblood of any football club, can get behind and believe in.

I thought we were right to move on from Ange Postecoglou once the emotion of Bilbao had simmered. I backed the Australian until the very end, but didn't think his idealistic style was conducive to sustained success at the elite level. He did 'get it', though, and Ange's successor is failing miserably to inspire hope.

The majority have long been appreciative of Frank's work, but there's a very high chance that most of us horribly misjudged the former Brentford manager. I assumed the "intelligent" Frank could scale up, that his approach in west London could evolve into a game model capable of adhering to the rather vague 'Tottenham Way'.

Thus far, though, it's been a pragmatic slog. We're now five games without a win under his stewardship, and although Tuesday's result was fine in isolation, there was no real sign of progress at St. James' Park.

Tottenham showed no tangible sign of progress in Newcastle draw

The manager ultimately had his captain to thank for rescuing a point at Newcastle United. Spurs fell 1-0 and 2-1 behind on Tyneside, but Cristian Romero's thumping header and shinned overhead kick helped the visitors restore parity twice.

Frank was right to commend his side's character after the draw, although it was almost solely a World Cup-winner's will that inspired Spurs to a point. Romero took it upon himself to maraud into the frontline and beat Dan Burn to Mohammed Kudus' cross, cancelling out Bruno Guimarães' opener with an emphatic finish.

There was no grand rescue plan from the manager, who once again oversaw a pitiful first-half showing that, for the fourth Premier League game in succession, failed to return a shot on target. That takes some doing.

There is no sign of evolution. No indication that Frank is learning from previous failings. If Kudus can't bring down a hopeful punt in his direction and roll the defender constantly up his backside, then Spurs can't get upfield. That's a problem.

The midfield pivot, no matter who plays there, are reduced to mannequins who seemingly serve the purpose of ensuring Frank has 11 on the pitch. Suddenly, Pape Matar Sarr doesn't know how to receive beyond the first line of pressure, get his head up and pass forward. His issues on Tuesday are symptomatic of the manager's risk-aversion and primitive idea of chance creation.

Get the ball wide and hope extra bodies in the box pay dividends. The centre of the pitch remains a no-go zone.

The second-half was slightly better, but it seems as if Spurs' "good spells" are dominated by long-throw sequences and other dead-ball moments. There's no emphasis upon sustaining pressure from open play.

You could perhaps legislate for such basic in-possession principles if Spurs were now an imperious force defensively, but that isn't the case. We continue to concede goals from the edge of our box, and, ultimately, our inability to keep the ball thrusts more pressure on the defence.

It's an antiquated brand of football that removes all scope for invention and craft. Perhaps I assumed all Danes were hip and progressive, with my love for Copenhagen's pastries potentially distorting my view of the incumbent in the dugout. Damningly, Frank is currently standing for something that no Tottenham supporter can get behind.

Can we really say with any confidence that things would look drastically better if Frank had a full squad at his disposal, or if we signed Antoine Semenyo in January? We can't.

Romero's stoppage-time heroics should've been a great moment and memory, but I immediately wondered what it all meant, and I still do. There are no signs of improvement with Frank, who is failing to maximise what is a flawed but undeniably talented squad by sapping the creative juice that lies within it in favour of a data-driven iteration of POMO.

Thomas Frank is not the manager I thought he was, or, at least, not yet, the manager I thought he could become. I'm very close to wanting a change.