Spurs arrived at the City Ground carrying a narrative they badly wanted to believe in. That the worst of the turbulence was behind them. That performances were stabilising. That structure was beginning to hold under pressure. That momentum, at last, was being carried rather than admired.

Ninety minutes later, that story lay in pieces.

Nottingham Forest’s 3-0 victory was not a smash and grab or a freak afternoon. It was controlled, decisive and, by full time, entirely deserved. Spurs left having managed one shot on target, created next to nothing of consequence, and unravelled in a manner that felt uncomfortably familiar. For a side supposedly learning how to manage moments, this was a reminder of how quickly they still lose grip of them.

Thomas Frank did not attempt to soften it. “That was very disappointing. It was a bad performance,” he said, plainly. “Frustrating, because I think the last three games were good on performance and results… and then after the first goal, I think we lost structure and were more disjointed.”

That admission matters, because structure was the promise. Structure was the reason patience was being extended. And structure, once again, proved brittle.

The opening goal was a mistake, yes. Archie Gray caught in possession after calling for the ball. But the reaction was the real concern. Forest sensed it immediately. Spurs did not respond with control or calm, but with hesitation and loosened spacing. Frank would later point to it directly. “It can’t be one goal that makes us so disjointed for 15 minutes. It can’t happen.”

Yet it did. And it has before.

Forest did not need dominance to win this game. They allowed Spurs the ball and punished them when it mattered. Fifteen Forest shots to Spurs’ six. Ten in the box to Spurs’ five. One Spurs shot on target all afternoon. This was not about finishing variance or bad luck. It was about a lack of attacking weight and an inability to reassert authority once the game tilted away from them.

“You don’t lose 3-0 because of finishing when you test the goalkeeper once,” Frank said. “If we can’t pass the ball on the pitch and lose it 25 times, it’s pretty difficult to create something.”

Spurs controlled possession at times, but not danger. They circulated the ball without threat, played into tight pockets without precision, and repeatedly turned it over in areas Forest were ready to attack from. Forest were sharper, more decisive, and more comfortable in the chaos Spurs helped create.

When the second goal arrived early in the second half, the game felt over. When the third followed, it was confirmation. Whatever momentum Spurs thought they had built did not survive its first serious test.

And this is where the reaction matters.

At full time, boos rang out from the away end. Not casual frustration, but a pointed response from supporters who had travelled, who had been handed scarves by the club as a gesture of appreciation, who have followed Spurs through inconsistency and upheaval before. These are not fair weather voices. These are the die hards. When they turn, it signals something deeper than a bad result.

That reaction cannot be separated from the wider backdrop. Only weeks ago, Frank had found himself at the centre of a growing tension around the idea of “true fans” after calling out sections of the home crowd for mocking their own players during a loss to Fulham. He later clarified and softened his stance, insisting the club is “nothing without our fantastic fans” and that togetherness during games matters. But the episode exposed a fragile bond at a delicate time.

Against Forest, the irony was unavoidable. The supporters Frank has consistently praised, those who follow the team on the road regardless of form, were the ones voicing their discontent. Not mid game, not directed at an individual, but at the final whistle, when the performance had offered no defence.

There is also an unavoidable comparison simmering beneath the surface. Ange Postecoglou was dismissed after delivering European success amid an injury ravaged season, a manager whose authority, clarity and charisma carried weight even through chaos. Frank arrived with a different profile. Methodical, measured, process driven. That approach can work, but only if it visibly moves the team forward.

Right now, many supporters are asking what has materially changed.

Frank himself acknowledged the concern about consistency. “That’s ongoing work in progress before we’re more consistent in that,” he said. “You can have a day where it’s not perfect. You still find a way into it. That’s something we need to do better.”

That sentence may define his tenure.

Because December is not a neutral stretch of fixtures. It is a corridor. Spurs now face a sequence that will test structure, mentality and belief in quick succession. There is no space to reset narratives between games. No time to explain performances away. Either the standards Frank speaks about are carried forward, or the mood will harden rapidly.

There is, still, an optimistic reading available. Frank pointed to time on the training ground, to the need for calm, to January offering a chance to reinforce areas he believes are short. “To change this will take some time,” he said. “No one wants to hear that, but it’s reality.”

But time is not infinite. Results shape trust. Performances shape belief.

What happened at the City Ground did not just cost Spurs three points. It burned through the benefit of the doubt they had begun to rebuild. The idea that Spurs had turned a corner did not wobble here. It went up in smoke.

Frank now enters the festive period walking a narrowing line. Steady this team, reassert control, and bring supporters back on side, and the narrative can yet be rewritten. Fail to do so, and the conversation will move quickly from process to permanence.

The external pressure is already shifting. In the hours after this defeat, bookmakers installed Frank as the Premier League manager most likely to be dismissed, priced at three to one at the time of publication. Betting markets do not decide a club’s actions, but they are often an early signal of where scrutiny is concentrating fastest.

Momentum only matters if it survives the next test.

Right now, it hasn’t.