In addition to these infernal interruptions to the domestic program, resulting from the International breaks, it's invariably a struggle for me to come up with a column for the Irish Examiner, when the Arsenal aren't playing.
But I find myself with a rare weekend off, so I might well not end up posting a piece on my blog this Monday and if so, you'll have to forgive me, as unsurprisingly, it would appear as if the paper's Terrace Talk feature on Wednesday is going to be displaced by coverage of the utterly insignificant game taking place in Paris that night :-)
That doesn't mean I haven't been slaving away at my keyboard but I've been writing a piece for the 200th issue of The Gooner and so I guess you're going to have to wait to buy a copy if you want to read it, as I can't really post it here because I'd be a little pissed off to buy a magazine containing articles I'd already read for free online.
Although one of the main reasons I wanted to post this piece was as an excuse to include some photos, as I stopped off at the ground on my way to work on Thursday morning to take some pictures.
The stadium was a positive hive of activity, with blue cranes dotted all over the shop as they install the remaining murals. The fourth mural in the North-West corner (even if a circle has no corners) includes images of Pires, Radford, O’Leary & Male and then on the way home last night I saw the completed mural on the East side, which is the one you get a marvelous view of as you drive down Aubert Park from the old gaff. Sadly it was too dark to take any pics but this one is made up of Bould, McLintock, Parlour & Rice.
Thus there are three more murals still to go up including 12 more players (to add to the collection that already includes Bastin, Adams, Brady & Henry. Bergkamp, Wilson, Hapgood & George. Seaman, Drake, Rocastle & James). There's a hell of a lot of Gooner heroes missing from this list. I suppose Wrighty is the most obvious modern day exclusion and I assume he'll appear in one of the remaining murals, but that will still leave loads of my own all-time Arsenal favourites struggling to make the final cut (eg. George Armstrong, Ray Kennedy, Kenny Sansom, Nigel Winterburn to name but four!) and I'm impatiently waiting to see the completed oeuvre.
Although I imagine the arguments will only start there, as there are bound to be endless barneys about who's been included and omitted. Moreover, in some respects I don't want the Arsenalisation process to end, as it's inspired in me the most interest I've had in the new stadium since it was opened, as I usually drive along Drayton Park at least twice daily and have been known to take the odd detour along Benwell Rd to the roundabout where it joins Hornsey Rd, in eager anticipation of each and every new development.
We won't have too long to wait, as according to one of the crane operators, they were supposed to be all done and dusted by today (Saturday). But I guess that the inclement weather put paid to a strangely urgent schedule. After all there isn't another home game until Standard Liège come to town on Tuesday 24th November.
Nevertheless, I couldn't resist stopping off on the way home from dinner at my Ma's last night, just past the two canons on the roundabout, to nip up the stairs to the left of the Box Office / the Armoury, to see if they'd got any further with the West side mural. But they'd only got so far as to put up the tensioners that are used to attach the gauze like fabric to, in order to stretch it taught.
I have to admit something of a professional interest, as I was only chatting to the technical director at the ballet the other day, a Notts Forest fan and telling him about the murals. He suggested the specific manufacturing process (which obviously I've immediately forgotten!) as they've had call to use it in our productions in the past, but only where the limitations of printing cloths in 3 metre strips didn't present a problem.
Meanwhile, after struggling to find the "Spirit of Highbury" installation, after the Spurs game, where the replica poster was reproduced in the programme, I'm pleased to say that this is now in situe at "podium level" above the Armoury shop. However with it still being fenced off, I'm assuming it's a work in progress, as in fact it would appear as if they've experienced some problems because the corners of this elongated team photo of every player to appear at THOF looks a bit like badly glued wallpaper at present, with lots of creases in the corners. I also assume it will get a covering of some sort to protect the picture, as otherwise unfortunately it's likely to end up defaced with graffiti in a nano-second!
I was planning on taking a walk around with the dog today to see if there've been any further developments, but I can't imagine anyone being up in a crane in such gale force conditions.
It's a shame really, as where we live, in Highbury Quadrant, is an unexpectedly green idyll between Blackstock Rd and Clissold Park and with so many trees, the autumnal colours are a treat. But winter has arrived virtually overnight, with the vast majority of trees having been completely denuded by hurricane like winds, leaving a somewhat depressingly stark scene and doubtless several days worth of that incredibly annoying racket, as the council's gardeners go about the seemingly futile business of pushing the leaves into huge piles with their noisy blower machines, only for a single gust of wind to restore the natural order of things and spoil all their efforts.
But you know I've run out of Arsenal related stuff if I'm resorting to discussing nature and having prattled on long enough to include a selection of my photos, I'll sign off and settle down for coverage of Ireland v France (with perhaps an appetiser of the David Haye's farcical heavyweight title fight, where I'm delighted I managed to resist the temptation to fork up another 15 odd quid to Sky to watch this circus act live).
Despite there doubtless being some torn loyalties, not wanting to see Titi, Sagna, Gallas and the rest of Les Blues get beat, as something of an adopted Irishman, I've gotta be up for Trapattoni's lads
I must admit that I was tempted to stop at home last Saturday and finally make some use of the additional 10 quid a month that I’ve been forking out for an ESPN subscription (making my monthly payment to Murdoch’s mob a massive £76), by watching the Wolves game on the box. After spending much of the week attached to a steering wheel, I really didn’t fancy getting back in the motor for a 5 hour round trip to the Black Country
However any genuine fan of the beautiful game would have to be bonkers to pass up the privilege of being able to watch the Gunners play live at present. When I think of how many miles I clocked up, following the “boring, boring” Arsenal’s far less enthralling former incarnation, I’m reminded that I mustn’t become blasé about the amazing adventures of Arsène’s current “scoring, scoring” side.
Although in truth, we’ve been in such scintillating form of late and we’ve enjoyed such fabulous entertainment in the fifty-five goals the Gunners have notched up thus far, that as fans there’s a certain sense of wanting to “fill yer boots”, or a fear of missing out on something special – especially at away games, where there’s a greater chance of exploiting the space afforded by the home team’s increased ambitions.
Doubtless those devout few Fulham fans (248!) who schlepped to Wigan at the weekend will have little sympathy, but after a long, hard week and with live coverage on the telly, without being able to teleport onto the terraces, it still takes dedication (and a good few quid!) to maintain one’s commitment to keeping the faith every single week.
After a couple of mates confirmed that their match tickets had long since turned up, I somehow convinced myself that I’d also received mine. I’d torn the flat upside down three times before coming to the conclusion that my ticket had been gobbled up by the black hole in our gaff, which has a habit of consuming items only when they are most needed.
As a result, potentially, I had a reasonable excuse for putting my feet up on Saturday, rather than face the prospect of missing much of the first-half, while queuing for a replacement ticket at the Molineux box office. A London postie might be a rarer sight than a ptarmigan at present, but to my astonishment two envelopes materialised in the letterbox on Friday morning, containing my tickets for Wolves and Sunderland. Despite a grovelling apology to my house proud missus, for any implication about her role in displacing my ticket along with all those odd socks, I’ve a feeling she’ll be feeding me humble pie from now until Xmas!
I blame Cardiff’s Jay Bothroyd for my tardy departure, as I tuned into the Welsh derby. Along with the likes of Sidwell, Pennant and Shamrock Rovers’ Graham Barrett, Bothroyd picked up the FA Youth Cup at the Arsenal in 2000. With his ability, pace and power, Jay reminded me of Stan Colymore in his pomp. But as I departed Highfield Road after the first leg of that final, I recall seeing him hanging with his posse of flash pals, instead of returning to the team coach. Prima facie evidence perhaps of how easily young players are led astray before realising their potential.
Looking back, this was perhaps the highpoint of that season, as my decidedly selective grey matter has managed to erase the majority of my unhappy memories of the trip to Copenhagen a few days later, for the UEFA Cup Final. I certainly recall little of the penalty shoot-out defeat to Galatasary after grinding out a 0-0 draw, but with Gooners arriving at the game still rubbing their eyes, after having been tear-gassed earlier in the day, this outing probably only lingers in the mind because it was the last time we experienced any serious aggro.
Contrast this to the present day, where the growing respect for our entertaining brand of Wenger-ball ensured that I felt a growing sense of pride, on the walk from the car to the ground on Saturday evening, as in their dour Midlands drawl, I overheard several locals expressing their admiration and their eager anticipation of seeing the Gunners play live.
Nevertheless, Mccarthy’s side weren’t prepared to be merely ‘the Patsy’ for the visit of the Premiership’s Harlem Globetrotters, as they gave it a real go for the first 20 minutes. It wasn’t until they’d put the ball in the back of their own net that their belief began to evaporate. I’m also sure it was no coincidence that the game turned so soon after Wolves robust efforts to cramp our style, forced Diaby to limp off. The home side hardly had a sniff, once Song came on to assist Ramsey in shoring up our midfield.
Molineux retains something of that ‘old school’ feel and as a dyed-in-the-wool traditionalist and someone who remembers the feats of the Derek Dougan side of the 70s, I’d be happy to see them cling to their top flight status (besides it’s a much shorter trek than Boro!). They might survive, if Mccarthy can inspire in his team the sort of heart and passion that we witnessed from the Wolves fans.
Despite the Gunners turning on the style, orchestrated by Fabregas, our very own Meadowlark Lemon, off the pitch we could take a lesson or two from the unwavering support of the locals. I can only imagine how empty our place would be, come the final whistle, if we were on the wrong end of this sort of drubbing, while the majority of those who lingered would be intent on expressing their disgust. It’s all too easy to whoop and holler while spanking the opposition, but it is showing your true colours, in trying to keep your side’s spirit up when things are going pear-shaped, which separates an ‘audience’ from genuine ‘supporters’.
The Gunners third against Wolves, as the cliché goes, was worth the price of admission alone. But it might have been a different story all together if we’d not been aided and abetted by two own-goals. Meanwhile, as the tension builds towards Saturday’s crucial encounter at Croke Park, we can but hope that such good fortune favours Ireland and that it is the turn of Il Trap’s team spirit to triumph over Gallic quality?
I've just seen an email from a shareholder which announces Stan Kroenke has bought an additional 427 shares in the club and as a result he has now passed the 29 per cent threshold.
According to the email it takes him to 29.6 per cent of the "voting rights"
It was vital that we beat Spurs on Saturday, to ensure that we re-established the natural North London order of things. It’s been so long since Spurs presented any sort of real threat, that Saturday’s triumph inspired the sort of quasi-religious fervour on the terraces, of the sort that’s only previously surfaced at our new stadium during those riotous few minutes, before a ball had been kicked in last season’s fateful Champions League semi.
Sadly on that occasion, the euphoria was all too short-lived. So considering Saturday’s derby was a mid-day kick-off, encounters which are renowned for being totally devoid of atmosphere, because fans are unable to get sufficiently tanked up to dispense with their inhibitions, it was a rare pleasure to savour several ‘hair on the back of your neck’ moments, during a second half where all 57,000 Gooners finally found their ‘roof raising’ voices, eventually sending shell-shocked Spurs fans scurrying for the exits, with the haunting refrain ringing in their ears “Champions League? You’re havin’ a larf!”
With Premiership football being such a global attraction, that’s so far removed from the parochial contest of yesteryear, there are many Gooners nowadays who struggle to fully appreciate the intensity of the local rivalry. Unless you’re old enough to recall an era when Arsenal and Spurs jockeyed for supremacy amongst the First Division’s “big six”, or you happen to be confronted by the enemy in your midst on a daily basis, amongst friends and family who kick with the wrong foot, you’re bound to be more bothered about getting one over on your Man U, Chelsea, Liverpool supporting pals, than the prospect of swatting the irritating Lilywhite fly a couple of times a season.
Thus the appearance of Harry Redknapp’s team on the competitive radar has undoubtedly added some spice to the current campaign. If only due to the delicious prospect of savouring the Schadenfreude, knowing their lofty aspirations will inevitably end up shot down in flames, sooner or later.
I know of one particular Gooner who refuses to go to the Spurs game and who won’t even watch live on the box because he gets so stressed out. After stealing occasional glances at the scoreline, I wonder if he felt safe enough to tune in at 2-0 up on Saturday? But as I dashed around to the game, late as ever, passing the hordes of old bill gathering on Blackstock Road, accompanied by an intimidating soundtrack of barking Alsatians and buzzing helicopters, I understood why someone might choose to stop at home.
Cynic that I am, I’ve always wondered if the powers that be are intent on provoking the sort of trouble that will justify their presence and the substantial cost of all that overtime. Since to my mind this sort of high-profile police presence actually creates an antagonistic atmosphere and often acts as an open invitation to the mindless larrikins who might want to challenge authority.
There are plenty of undesirables on either side of the North London divide and perhaps I’m bound to be biased, but the atmosphere rarely feels anywhere near as menacing at our place, as it invariably is at White Hart Lane. Perhaps Spurs fans have grown accustomed to needing an alternative source of entertainment, or an outlet for their frustrations. But for genuine fans of the beautiful game, as opposed to anyone looking for a barney, this over-bearing police presence means that the derby is less of a game and more of a mission.; where the objective is to get in, get a result, get out and home safe!
After so many years of eating our dust, Tottenham will have turned up on Saturday, hoping that Harry Redknapp had at long last afforded them an opportunity to shrug off their innate sense of inferiority. However if they needed any reminder of their down-trodden status during the Wenger dynasty, they arrived at our gaff to be greeted by images of Vieira, Lewis, Dixon and Mercer on the 4th enormous mural adorning the outside of the stadium, above the away fans entrance, with these 4 former heroes linking arms with the 12 Arsenal legends on the three other existing murals.
While we debate the 16 players who’ll feature on the 4 remaining murals, which will soon result in a ring of 32 Gunner greats circling the entire ground, it’s wonderful to turn up to each game to experience this transformation in progress. I’m no psychologist but I sense this “Arsenalisation” process is having the desired effect, ramping up the feeling of pride for the fans (and who knows, perhaps for the players alike), as each successive home game reveals new reminders of our illustrious past. Perhaps it’s wishful thinking, but should this effort contribute to a building momentum on the pitch, which eventually results in a concerted title challenge, it’ll be an impossible act to follow next season!
I was actually a little disappointed on Saturday, as last Wednesday’s programme referred to “the Spirit of Highbury” installation, which is an elongated team photo type image, including every player & manger who ever appeared at the old ground. With a six-page poster of this image in the centrefold of Saturday’s programme, we wandered around outside, after the game, searching in vain for the original.
Having showed the poster to a steward, who was even more bemused than me, he instead invited us back into the ground to view the two new displays portraying our European conquests and managerial records, on the concourse walls inside. All we could find outside was some scaffolding, where I assume we can look forward to seeing this impressive photographic installation, mounted at a home game in the near future - although you can be certain I won’t be able to resist taking regular detours on my way home, in the hope of seeing it sooner.
The board’s efforts to create more of a fortress Arsenal feel to the new place certainly seemed to bear fruit at the weekend. Although, sitting in their comfy, cushioned seats, there’s an inevitable inertia amongst the Arsenal’s nouveau fans. Instead of waiting for events on the park to inspire a white-hot cauldron like atmosphere, I only wish they’d realise how advantageous it can be the other way around, when the atmosphere can be the catalyst for the performance.
In fact, events could’ve easily taken a calamitous turn for the worse, if it wasn’t for the good fortune of that crucial two-goal flurry on the stroke of halftime that’s afforded this match the moniker of “the 11 second derby
We seemed second best all over the park up until then, as if the flat-footed players in red & white were the only ones present who didn’t fully appreciate the significance of this encounter. One could question whether there was an element of arrogance in the way we appeared to be waiting for our guests to give us our ball back, perhaps counting on them to eventually begin to flag.
I was far from alone in my frustration, screaming myself hoarse with my unrequited pleas to “put them under”. Sadly, others were far less encouraging. Abou Diaby’s inept first-half display was in danger of developing into a repeat of the shameful Eboué episode, as the crowd’s counter-productive ire only made Diaby an increasingly nervous liability, perhaps lingering in the centre of the pitch, to remain out of earshot of the venomous diatribe.
Mercifully our fickle fans instantly forgave and forgot, as the building tension resulted in the entire stadium going bonkers when Van Persie found the back of the net. I was still celebrating, giving the Spurs fans beside us the finger and only just turned in time to see Cesc’s knife through butter build up to his scinitillating second.
I felt some sympathy for my Spurs mates, as instead of going into the break feeling quite pleased with their performance, it was game over! And as if to add insult to their injury, they discovered they’d drawn Man Utd away in the Carling Cup quarterfinal.
After the last couple of games, there was no counting chickens at the break. Surely we’d learned enough not to throw away a third successive win? But in truth, with their one-dimensional attack, a Spurs comeback was never on the cards. Moreover, the best atmosphere in the stadium to date, offered an amazingly reassuring sense of our 12th man’s capacity to deny Spurs the slightest encouragement.
The Scousers demise is a blessing in disguise because it offers the chasing pack someone else to shoot at, other than us. Psychologically, it makes a massive difference for the Arsenal to be mentioned in the same breath as Chelsea and Man Utd and considering how we were being written off before the season started, I’ll be perfectly content if we can remain the outsider, coming up on the rails. Arsène might be obliged to talk up a title challenge, but I need not tempt fate. Ask me again after Xmas!
G’day fellow Gooners (or at least I bloody well hope it turns out to be!)
I don’t consider myself to be an egotistical person, but I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit that I adore getting comments in response to my ramblings. Good, bad or indifferent (and even the illiterate ravings of opposition fans), it's extremely gratifying to receive the occasional confirmation that my humble efforts have been read. It’s great to see the “page view” counter ticking over, but it’s far more satisfying to have tangible proof that I’m not just prattling away for my own benefit (and perhaps for my dear old Ma, who, bless her, is 76 today, so very many happy returns Mum – I only hope the Gunners can reward you with a fitting tribute).
In response to the query, the photos shown of me and the missus in the header were taken back in the days when we had a few quid and were fortunate enough to be able to travel on several Exec trips all over Europe.
This was in the days of those Cup Winners Cup runs in the early 90s and it was great to be able to stay overnight, in destinations that one often wouldn’t think of visiting, if it wasn’t for us following the Gunners and to be able to get a little more flavour of these foreign climes, than when one flies in and out on the same day, on an organised outing, where, having been herded sheep-like, out of the airport, into a coach, into the ground and straight back onto the plane after the final whistle, one experiences so little local colour that one might as well have been to Leicester!
However, above all, the principal motivation for paying through the nose to travel on these Exec trips was the buzz of being able to travel on the same plane as the team. I’m probably still paying for the privilege, with all the debt I accumulated on my plastic. But having completely tapped out all such lines of credit to the max, to the point where it’s such a struggle to pay for our two season tickets that I’ve had no choice, but to lease Róna’s ticket out this season and with the cost of these Exec trips becoming increasingly prohibitive, eventually there came a point where we could no longer justify the expense.
So for example, instead of spending over 300 quid each to follow the Gunners abroad and spend one night in a hotel, we began to find better alternatives. Like the time we played PAOK Salonika a few years back, we found a last minute package holiday for a fortnight, for less than the cost of an overnight Exec trip and spent a couple of weeks on a lovely beach in Tolo, near Athens and hired a car to drive all the way up to the other end of Greece for the game.
These Exec trips would usually go from Stansted, I guess because it’s convenient for the team coach to get to from North London and the plane would be divided into three sections, with the team at the front of the plane, us fans in the middle and the media at the back.
Although they tried to keep the team separate, to ensure they weren’t hassled by us and the press and they were invariably whisked off on a separate coach from the airport, there was usually time, either when waiting at the gate for the plane, or waiting for their luggage to come off at the other end, when you could approach them for a brief chat and the odd souvenir photo.
I’ve loads of great anecdotes from these trips, most of which I’ve repeated many times already, but without doubt the best experience during any of these European outings was on our return journey from Copenhagen, after beating Parma to win the Cup Winners Cup, as Tony Adams climbed on board the plane with the cup in hand and passed it back to the fans. We were lucky to be in the second row of fans and so we got our obligatory photo (see above), before one of the travel club bods eventually came and spoilt all the fun, by retrieving the silverware. I don’t know what they were worried about, as the cup was hardly about to go missing in mid-air!
Arsène changed the arrangements for away trips in Europe and for a time, I believe those travelling on the Exec trips no longer flew on the same plane as the team. We also used to be able to rub shoulders with the players years ago, at Sopwell House Hotel, during the time when they were using the hotel facilities to change in, after the dressing rooms at the training ground burnt down. Yet as with the fences and electric gates at the new training facility, one gets the distinct sense that the powers that be at the club make more effort nowadays to ensure that the squad is segregated from the fans (and the media) and sadly, in my opinion, the opportunities to be able to actually meet them have become much fewer and further between.
I remember making one of Róna’s sisters day when we were up at Sopwell House one time, as I collared Tony Adams in the car park, as he was walking to his car and he happily agreed to speak to Grainne on my mobile. She was naturally blown away, initially believing that whoever was on the phone was pulling her leg.
During Thierry Henry’s time at the Arsenal, there were occasions when I got asked about getting him to sign something or other, perhaps as a present for an eager youngster and it would pain me to have to disappoint, by explaining that it was unlikely I was going to get an opportunity to obtain an autograph because unfortunately the chances of getting sufficiently close to players nowadays are so very rare.
I’m sure most every Gooner will know who Maria is and if you don’t know who she is, you will recognise the sound of her voice, having inevitably heard her bellowing “Come on you Gunners’ either at a game, or when watching on the box. I remember years ago, I used to wonder if it was a little boy, with a particularly loud voice, but actually Maria is a diminutive, elderly lady, a retired schoolteacher, who, as an utterly devoted Gooner, has made the Arsenal her life for many years.
It occurred to me when I was watching us play in Holland the other week and I heard the dulcet tones of Maria over the commentary on the telly, that it had been sometime since I’d registered the sound of her presence at a game. But by coincidence we bumped into her during half-time at Upton Park, where she told us that she’d travelled to Alkmaar on the Exec trip, on the same plane as the players and that on their return flight, apparently Cesc Fabregas got up and used the onboard PA, to say a few words to the more privileged of the travelling faithful.
I’m sure I asked Maria what Cesc had to say and she probably told me that he thanked them for their support and expressed his hope that we’d be able to continue following them, all the way to Champions League final in the Bernabeu, but if I’m honest, I have to admit that as a result of another "senior moment", I can’t for the life of me remember.
Nevertheless, I’ve an inkling that the actual details of Fab’s doubtless banal few words are not of any particular interest and for me, it’s not what he said, but the fact that he said them and I get a kick out of the thought that our club captain felt obliged to get up and fulfil his obligations as spokesman for the team. I only wish he could’ve done so for the benefit of everyone who travelled and not just the privileged few and the media rat pack at the back of the plane.
Then again, the cynic in me can’t help but wonder if Cesc was encouraged to speak, by someone from the press office, purely for the benefit of the press!
Meanwhile, if I am to make tomorrow’s midday kick-off, I had better get to bed and catch some much needed ZZZZs. However before signing off, in response to another comment, I want to make it clear that I didn’t intend to single out Senderos and Silvestre for special stick in my last load of waffle, especially after we’d just beaten the Scousers. I only wanted to express my serious concerns about Arsène continuing to play both these two players as our centre-back partnership in the next and hopefully any subsequent rounds.
Personally I was never particularly happy about Wenger signing Silvestre, as to my mind the French defender is past his sell by date (at 32 odd?) and personally, whenever he played for Man Utd, I always saw him as their potential weak link. Besides which, I can’t possible imagine that Fergie was ever going to flog Arsène a player who he felt could turn the Arsenal into potentially more serious competition for his own team.
That doesn’t mean to say I don’t respect Mikael, as word would have it that he’s seriously professional in the way he goes about his work and I would imagine that he’s a great example to some of the younger players. Yet I get the distinct impression that no-one is more aware of his own limitations than Silvestre himself and although he has undoubtedly developed coping tactics over the years, in order to deal with more talented opposition strikers and is unlikely to be caught dallying on the ball, trying to pass his way out of his own area, instead of smashing it safely into Row Z, for my money, I don’t like the message the club sends out when signing Man Utd’s cast offs.
Silvestre is more than capable of doing a job for us and he has the versatility and the experience to make quite a useful addition on the bench, but I would much prefer to see Arsène bringing on the likes of Kyle Bartley, or another of our promising youngsters, because we know full well that Silvestre is not going to benefit from the experience, being on the downhill slope of his career. You could argue that it made sense to play him as a senior figure, to act as a role model for all the younger players and perhaps this is a valid point but I just don’t see the point in playing him and Senderos together.
As for Philippe, I have always adored Senderos’ character and there was a time, a good while back, when I considered him to be perhaps the most likely candidate in the entire Arsenal squad, to possess proper captain material (or at least what I call proper captain material, which means the ability to lead in a vocal and demonstrative fashion, rather than having to suffer the sound of Arsène trotting out the standard “lead by example” excuse for the fact that his squad has been devoid of anyone capable of fulfilling the leader’s role in a more meaningful fashion).
I didn’t see much of Senderos playing when he played in Italy for AC Milan, but there were more than a few Gooners who were gobsmacked to hear he’d gone there on loan. I have to admit that this unexpected move brought a smile to my face. Yet on reflection, I can envisage Philippe faring well on the Continent, especially in Serie A because the style of football might suit him better.
When Italian teams concede possession, they tend to drop back into their own half of the pitch. As a result, the football in Italy tends to be far less frenetic, as they aren’t in the habit of playing a pressing game. As a result, with more time on the ball, I can quite easily picture Senderos being far more comfortable, without being in constant fear of being exposed for his undoubted lack of pace. And in truth, Philippe seems like such an amenable character that I would actually be quite glad to see him go and carve out a more impressive career on the Continent, rather than suffer seeing him castigated by insensitive Gooners, who will only remember him for the way in which he’s been positively decimated in the past by the likes of Drogba.
I also wanted to reply to the comment from someone who appears to covet a few more of Rafa Benitez’s signings than I do. In addition to Torres, I did actually mention Mascherano, only because the Argentinian is the finished article, compared to Alex Song, who’s performances though admirable, are still riddled on occasion with evidence of his continued naïveté (principally, as far as I’m concerned, evident in the way he continues to allow opponents to get goalside of him).
However who would want to sign Mascherano, a player who obviously appears to want to leave England and who I believe is going to be a source of great frustration for the Scousers this season, as how incredibly maddening must it be to see him completely run the midfield show against the likes of Man Utd, seeing him serve up a reminder of how influential he can be, compared to the majority of Liverpool’s other matches to date, where basically his lack of motivation means that he might as well have not bothered to turn up.
I also agree that there was a time when I admired Alonso’s range of passing for the Merseysiders, but I honestly couldn’t have seen him playing in a midfield pairing with Fabregas and so I am not sure how Arsène would have managed to play the two of them together. Besides which, I know that nowadays we have to accept the fact that the loyalty of professional footballers comes bought and paid with vast amounts of pound notes (or Euros), but I continue to be suspicious of any player who appears to make career moves based solely on the moolah, without consideration for professional pride and the best choice of clubs as far as their football is concerned.
I appreciate that their careers are short and that they have to cash in while they can and provide security for them and their families for the future. But to my mind, it doesn’t matter where top-flight footballers play nowadays; they are going to earn more than they could ever hope to spend in a lifetime, at any major football club. Thus I struggle to understand why a player would accept umpteen million to go and sit on a bench somewhere and get an occasional look-in, rather than take home one less sackful of spondulicks so as to be able to play the game they love every week.
Call me a sentimental old fool, but I also have some notion that if the club have to get involved in a Dutch auction to encourage a player to come to the club instead of going elsewhere, then to my mind, if the money is his principal motivation, then he’s most unlikely to consistently sweat blood, week in, week out, for a team he’s only playing for because of the pound notes.
Take Gareth Barry, for example. After playing for Villa for most of his career, in his shoes, I would’ve wanted to go to a club where I was most likely to win something. After all, he’s hardly going to be able to impress the grandchildren a few years down the line, by showing them his bank balance! Then again perhaps he’s deluding himself that he’ll be collecting medals at Man City in this lifetime?
Talking of Villa, did anyone else see the highlights of their Carling Cup encounter at the Stadium of Light in midweek? By some coincidence, Martin O’Neill has found another “septic” (Guzan) to play between the sticks, as Brad Friedel’s stand-in, who, after having seriously impressed during 120 minutes of football, amazingly went on to save four out of five spot-kicks.
Another name to catch my ear (again!) was that of Vladimir Weiss and while I didn’t see exactly what this youngster did to impress in Man City’s 5-1 spanking of Scunthorpe (as I only saw the goals shown on the box), the Slovakian lad definitely caught my eye in his performance for his country against Northern Ireland. With his dad being the manager of the Slovakian national team, surely nepotism would prevent him dropping his own progeny. Nevertheless I can’t envisage Weiss being particularly content to continue sitting on the City bench, missing out on regular match practice in the build to next summer’s tournament in South Africa.
But if I don’t stop wittering on, I will never make it to kick-off (and just how long-winded I can be, is evident from the fact that the derby is today, when it was “tomorrow” when I sat down to start this missive!!). I’m sitting here wondering if we’ll discover any more new murals have been put up, outside the ground, in advance of our match with the old enemy. As if those poor, long-suffering Spurs fans needed any additional reminders of just how dilapidated and uninspiring their own gaff is and how little history they have to glory in by comparison.
Come on you Reds
Peace & Love (in the vain hope of encountering such sentiments this afternoon, albeit I’ll gladly accept the exact opposite, if it’s a result of us giving the Totts the reality check of a right old tonking!)
Bernard
PS. As for the request for me to put a link on IE, I'm afraid you've got me there, as I'm far too much of a techno-nincompoop to know what this acronym stands for (other than the browser Internet Explorer)? If you put me out of my misery and enlighten me and I'll gladly put the link up :-)
I hope you’ll forgive me, but with my regular weekly diary missives I tend to avoid offering my own analysis (for what it is worth) of weekend matches, since I write these pieces on a Sunday/Monday, to appear in the Irish Examiner on a Wednesday and with games invariably having been analysed to death by then, elsewhere in the media, I try to come at it from a slightly more anecdotal angle.
But I’ve no such excuse this evening and so I apologize in advance for boring anyone, by repeating the exact same opinions that probably feature in a hundred other blogs!
I was delighted that Arsène didn’t compromise with tonight’s team selection. With the winners of our encounter with the Scousers only being two games, 180 minutes of football away from a Wembley final and with Wenger having made recent public assurances that the Arsenal would end up with something to show for this campaign, I’ve no doubt that there must’ve been some temptation to send out a slightly stronger looking side.
I know it’s easy for me to say, after we’ve earned a place in the quarter-finals, but win, lose or draw this evening, I would’ve been glad that le gaffer stuck to his principles. After so many barren seasons, Arsène is bound to be feeling some pressure to bring home some silverware bacon of any description whatsoever. But there are several reasons why Wenger shouldn’t let himself be influenced and bow to this pressure.
In contrast to the vast majority of high-profile matches that players are involved in nowadays, relatively speaking, Arsène has created a situation for his players to perform in a pressure free environment in the Carling Cup. It’s a “no lose” situation, as they win plenty of plaudits by beating the likes of Liverpool, but if we’d been beaten, it would’ve been no disgrace and no one would’ve been too hard on them.
Moreover, there’s a fluidity and a certain intuitiveness about the way we played tonight which makes them an absolute pleasure to watch. It certainly doesn’t look like a team that’s been thrown together for the first time, as with the backheels and the flicks, they look like players who’ve been playing together every day of the week. But the moment Arsène breaks up the vibe, by adding in some more heavyweight individuals, we’d be risking that special team spirit.
No matter who we draw in the quarter-finals, in my humble opinion, either Arsène plays the first XI, or he continues to keep faith with the kids, because otherwise the youngsters would be likely to feel so much more inhibited if Wenger tinkers with the make-up of the Carling Cup team and would undoubtedly defer to the more senior players, losing some of the confidence and the freedom that makes them so entertaining to watch at present.
Mind you, it was interesting that he went with Fabianski tonight, as I was certain Wenger would take the opportunity to give Almunia a run out. Perhaps, by not playing Manuel, he’s merely avoided any chance of a goal-keeping performance which might put some doubt in his mind with regard to the line-up at the weekend. Far be it from me to second guess le gaffer, but I am assuming that the absence of Almunia tonight means that Wenger will continue to keep faith with Mannone (then again, this conclusion is probably the kiss of death for our goalkeeping godfather!).
I am also sure I am not alone in being totally perplexed as to why Arsène played Sylvestre and Senderos as a centre-back pairing. With Djourou a long term casualty, I appreciate that the choice is limited, but personally I would love to see the likes of Kyle Bartley given a first team opportunity. Phillipe Senderos comes across as a diamond geezer, but it seems to me that Arsène has long since written him off as first team material.Considering how disappointed we would’ve been to have exited the competition tonight, if Wenger’s only reason for sticking with Senderos is because he likes the lad and therefore wanted to take the opportunity to put him in the shop window, then for my money, this wasn’t the game to do that in.
Perhaps Arsène felt that with Gilbert and Gibbs playing at full-back, the pace of these two combined would be sufficient to make up for the absolute total lack of speed of our two centre-backs?
Frankly I wasn’t impressed with Voronin the first time I saw him play for Liverpool and he’s done nothing since to change this opinion. Also I have yet to see anything from Ngog, to suggest he’s going to set any Premiership fires and if I was a Liverpool fan, considering how susceptible tonight’s two centre-backs are to being attacked at pace (because basically they both have the turning speed of an oil-tanker), I would’ve been seriously disappointed with the Scousers fairly impotent performance, where the threat they posed to Fabianski was largely limited to a smattering of somewhat limp, long-range efforts.
I was shocked a couple of weeks back, to hear Graham Souness reveal on Sky’s Champions League coverage that Benitez has signed 67 players in his five years at the club. I suppose Rafa’s stock of Scouse credit is largely due to his success in Europe, but to my mind, this is a pretty damming statistic, which suggests that there’s an element of “the Emperor’s new clothes” about the levels of faith the fat Spanish waiter has engendered in the Merseyside faithful (to the extent that they were prepared to march through the Merseyside streets to show their support for their manager). My memory is extremely suspect at the best of times, but from what I can recall of six football teams that could be made up of all Rafa’s signings, I’ve only ever coveted Fernando Torres (possibly Mascherano?), but off the top of my head, I can’t think of a single other player that I would’ve been desperate to see play in the red & white of the Arsenal!
Nevertheless, Liverpool could’ve been a lot luckier this evening with the way the ball fell in a couple of goalmouth melées and with only a single goal advantage and those two at centre-back, I’m sure I wasn’t alone in absolutely bricking myself, right up until the final whistle, nerves a jangling every time the Scousers pumped the ball forward.
Considering the calibre of teams left in the competition, I can’t help but feel that Sylvestre and Senderos are a nightmare waiting to happen. Their luck simply cannot hold out indefinitely and eventually the two of them are going to end up seriously exposed by some pacy opposition capable of ripping this partnership to shreds. So for the sake of my blood pressure and the few remaining hairs on my head that have yet to turn grey, I sincerely hope that Arsène quits while we are ahead!
I’m not knocking Sylvestre’s performance as our captain tonight, as there were a couple of instances where his years of experience were a telling factor in a timely intervention. Likewise, I don’t recall Phillipe Senderos making any serious rickets – I do know we made some incredibly over-confident and downright suicidal efforts to pass our way out of defence and were extremely fortunate on at least a couple of occasions to have avoided committing hari-kari (one of the very first lessons I learned as a defender was not to pass the ball across my own penalty area!!) but while I believe there was more than one culprit, I don’t actually remember Senderos being guilty of any such mistakes.
On their own, I could accept either of these two centre-backs being involved, so long as they had a pacier individual alongside them. But together I am afraid they are an accident waiting to happen!
It could be that Phillipe’s biggest problem is that basically he’s far too intelligent. A centre-back’s greatest asset is their composure, especially under pressure. With the featherweight balls used nowadays, modern day centre-backs don’t have the same excuse as their predecessors, who, having spent their entire careers trying to get their head to high balls, or banging skulls in the process, could claim that they’d lost many of an already limited number of brain cells, to the damage done by the sort of old-fashioned leather balls that were capable of leaving an impression of the laces on ones forehead.
In general, I imagine that not being too intelligent is probably an advantage to a centre-back, as they don’t have the sense to appreciate quite how scared they should be of certain opponents. Or for example, in Anton Ferdinand’s case, perhaps his composure on the ball is not affected by his inability to appreciate that there is no centre-back gene for him to have inherited along with his brother.
Mikael Sylveste appears to be aware of his limitations and for the most part, he seems to have the experience to try and make allowance for his weaknesses and play to his strengths. Whereas unfortunately Philippe appears overly aware of his perceived limitations and although it was heartening to witness a couple of no-nonsense “row Z” moments this evening, when an opponent does get the better of him, it seems to have a lasting impact and you can tangibly feel that he is on edge, every time the same player takes him on after that.
I’m sure it wasn’t just the sound of our nerves I could hear jangling and the problem playing these two becomes compounded, as I felt that tonight the Scousers sensed how uncomfortable Senderos and this only encouraged them to put pressure on him, in hope of forcing him to lose control, or to risk a dodgy backpass and Senderos seem such a nice chap that I would hate to see a more accomplished strikeforce make mincemeat of him!
I wonder if Wenger’s team selection in the next round will be influenced by who we pull out of the hat in Saturday’s draw, as should we come up against the likes of Chelsea, surely he wouldn’t dream of risking Senderos against Drogba because we don’t need a crystal ball to know how this encounter would turn out!
Meanwhile on a more positive note, after having waited for some time to see Fran Merida justify the faith that has been shown in him and having been largely disappointed with his previous outings, I was delighted to see him shine (at least in the first-half) this evening. It was also great to get home and watch the highlights, to see Cesc Fabregas celebrating his compatriot’s goal on the sideline, with perhaps more enthusiasm than if he had scored himself.
I’m aware that Merida has yet to sign a new contract and you can understand the kid not wanting to commit to another five years waiting on the sidelines. But after having invested so much faith in the young midfielder, it would be awful if he went elsewhere, only for some other team to bear all the fruits of his fabulous education. Besides which, considering most in the know seem to view Fran as a potential alternative to Cesc, he could get his first team opportunity sooner, rather than later, if our club captain should decide that the time is right for a return to Spain!
Similarly I seem to think everyone present was suitably impressed with Eastmond and Gilbert. Truth be told, I haven’t seen much of Eastmond before now, other than his name being familiar from the reserve and youth team match reports in the programme. But I was under the impression that his natural position was at right back and if I’m correct, I felt he looked very comfortable with being asked to do a job in midfield.
Kerrea Gilbert also caught the eye, with his muscular and confident interventions at right-back. I’m glad that Sanchez Watt got another run out, albeit only for the last quarter of an hour. Then again, at the time, I wasn’t particularly happy to see Bendtner depart the field because if the Scousers had managed to score an equaliser and we ended up going into extra-time (or even penalties), I would’ve been much happier with Bendtner on the pitch rather than watching from the bench.
I’ve been critical in the past about the Dane’s arrogant attitude but all credit to the way in which Nicky has knuckled down to do the job his manager asks of him. Playing in this Carling Cup side, I could’ve previously pictured Bendtner sulking about being asked to play out wide, but I could have absolutely no complaints about his work rate this evening and his all-round contribution to the team.
Arsène was perhaps thinking that Sanchez Watt’s pace might trouble the tiring legs of the Liverpool defence and as they chased an equalizer, he might be able to expose them on the counter. As it turned out, Watt didn’t really see enough of the ball to have an opportunity to take the Scousers on and after the positively criminal way in which we’ve blown wins in our last two successive matches, we were all left holding our breath during the closing stages, praying history wasn’t going to repeat itself again. Especially as in this particular case it would’ve likely proved fatal if we’d conceded an equalizer late on, because we would’ve gifted the Scousers the momentum going into extra-time.
Mercifully, despite momentary scares, where the memory of our last two matches probably resulted in the somewhat frantic, decidedly un-Arsenal like way in which we “cleared our lines”, although we were on the edge of our seats, on the pitch they appeared to have everything under control. And it was ironic really that it took our youthful Carling Cup side to demonstrate to the first XI, how it should be done, taking the ball into the corners and seeing out injury time, without any of the sort of gung-ho attacks that could end in disaster.
I only hope that along with Fabregas, the rest of the first XI were there, to watch this lesson in how to see out a victory :-)
If the prospect of Saturday’s derby wasn’t excitement enough, we now also have the draw for the quarterfinals to look forward to. I suppose fans of every club will be hoping to pull Pompey, or in current awful form, Blackburn out of the hat, but personally I reckon we might do better to be drawn against a stronger side. For one of the lesser lights, a quarterfinal appearance in the Carling Cup could be the highlight of their season and in some respects I feel the youngsters are more likely to rise to a big occasion and another opportunity to embarrass a top side. It would certainly be fun to see the kids perhaps put an end to any chance Spurs have of getting a sniff of silverware!
Apparently there was plenty of testosterone in the air earlier this evening, around the away pub and the concrete Arsenal sign by the south bridge, but I imagine it was calmness personified compared to the likely atmosphere on Saturday.
I know one particular Gooner who chooses not to go to the derby game because he just doesn’t enjoy the horrible atmosphere that invariably materializes around the ground and although personally I wouldn’t miss Saturday’s match for the world, I know exactly what he’s talking about, as the hordes of police in riot gear, the helicopters buzzing overhead and the baying German-Shepherds (not to mention the odious behaviour of the scum from the wrong end of the Seven Sisters Road and I know that all clubs have their share of objectionable “fans”, it’s just that Spurs seem to attract so many more of them!) often make for a particularly unpleasant vibe about the place, one where you feel you just want to get in there, stuff ‘em and get home too gloat! Here’s hoping…..
Conceding a last minute equaliser against AZ Alkmaar might not prove to be a major calamity in the great scheme of things, but at the very least I was hoping it might serve as a hard learned lesson for our young side. However, sadly, the infuriating way in which we casually frittered away, what might prove to be a couple of decisive Premiership points at Upton Park on Sunday, would suggest that the Gunners gleaned little from our mishap in Holland.
Despite the recession-proof proliferation of roadworks, which are currently making life absolute murder for drivers in the capital and the fact that Stratford’s humungous Olympic stadium project has completely obliterated the succession of backdoubles that I first discovered nearly 40 years back, when my old man used to drive us to matches in East London, Upton Park remains a doddle of an away trip.
I knew it would be touch and go making the KO, if I stopped at home to watch the coverage of the Merseyside clash in its entirety, but the Scousers car crash season has made them compulsive viewing. I finally gave up on seeing Sunday’s earlier game through to its conclusion, when the ref added 5 minutes of injury time. I hopped onto my motorbike, hoping to hear the dying throes (over the engine noise) on the radio, with my headphones held firmly in my ears by my crash helmet. But I hadn’t made it past the end of my road, before the battery died (mercifully on the radio, not the bike!).
Thus I had to wait until I’d parked up right beside the Boleyn, to confirm whether it was a bunch of rowdy Scousers celebrating a second goal, or a riot of Cockney Reds, perhaps crowing over a Michael Owen equaliser, who were responsible for the huge cheer emanating from a Homerton boozer, as I barrelled past.
Upton Park is nothing like the intimidating arena of yesteryear, ever since they rebuilt the main Dr Martens stand and moved the pitch, so that the touchline is no longer literally in spitting distance from the terraces. Time was when visiting teams would draw lots, to decide who got the corners and throw-ins short straw.
Sadly, like the vast majority of Premiership stadia, it might’ve lost much of the intense cauldron-like atmosphere of old. But it’s not just its proximity, which ensures that West Ham continues to be one of my favourite awaydays. Thankfully the Hammers’ home has managed to retain something of that old-fashioned feel of a traditional ground, compared to many of top-flight’s more soul-less, concrete temples to commercialisation.
With Stoke having somehow snaffled a win at White Hart Lane and with news of Man City having dropped points against Fulham, it was all looking hunky-dory at halftime, as we’d suddenly been presented with a rare opportunity to establish some breathing space between us and the dogfight that appears to be on the cards, amongst the cotchel of clubs hoping to challenge for a highly-prized pitch at the Champions League tough.
We might only be talking in terms of a point or two, but psychologically, it could make a big difference for the Gunners to be perceived as being involved in a battle between the top three, leaving the likes of Liverpool, City, Spurs and Villa to play inconsistent leapfrog amongst the also-rans..
However with Carlton Cole making more than a nuisance of himself and his West Ham teammates working their socks off, to deny us the time and space to develop any rhythm in the middle of the park, most Gooners felt fortunate to be 2 goals to the good and I’m sure the Hammers must’ve felt hard done by.
In fact I initially feared for a soaking on the bike on the way home, when I felt what I thought was the odd raindrop on my head at the start of the second half. But then I always forget that there’s an upper tier above us in the Trevor Brooking Stand behind the goal. This is the Hammers’ “family enclosure” and perhaps the apocryphal tales from the bad old days leave me just a little paranoid, but with clear skies overhead, I certainly I hope it was rain, rather than disgruntled home fans showering us with something far more repugnant.
Meanwhile we might’ve also battered Blackburn, but Chelsea didn’t have to go behind twice in their romp against Rovers. As much as it sticks in my craw, I have to admit to an increasingly grudging respect for the efficient way in which they’re capable of dispatching lesser opponents, with an economy of effort, which really should serve to demonstrate the law of diminishing returns that applies to our lads infuriating tendency towards cruise control.
Instead of going for the jugular and putting the result beyond doubt, thereby allowing them to relax and enjoy a leisurely conclusion, we all too often end up paying the price of taking our foot off the pedal, leaving the pitch absolutely shattered both physically and mentally, after having been punished for our casual attitude and forced into fighting it out right until the final whistle.
Drogba and Anelka are developing a positively terrifying partnership and on current form, I can’t watch Chelsea without wondering what might’ve been, if it wasn’t for the limitless bankroll that blew Wenger’s efforts to sign Michael Essien out of the water. Perhaps Alex Song is set to develop into an equally influential player, but Arsène has admitted in the past that Alex isn’t a natural midfielder and while he learns his trade, wily opponents will continue to take advantage of his naïveté. While some might accuse his own colleagues of taking advantage of his willingness to work like a Trojan.
Not to take any credit away from the Irons resolve, as they could’ve easily folded but it felt more as if we shot ourselves in the foot on Sunday. I certainly can’t envisage either Chelsea or Man Utd letting the Hammers off the hook in such a slipshod fashion. Instead of establishing our credentials as potential contenders, we continue to lack the ruthless streak that is absolutely vital if we’re going to fulfil Wenger’s assurances of bringing home the silverware bacon this time around.
I’m all for seeing the Gunners strut their stuff, but after stumping up the best part of 50 quid to stand behind a goal, it feels downright disrespectful for them to be arrogantly playing keep ball, as if they expect the opposition to lie down and present us with a win, without ever having to break sweat. When forced at the death into demonstrating too little drive and determination, too late, this only highlighted quite how flat-footed we’d been up until then.
This might’ve felt more like a defeat than a draw, but there was at least the silver-lining of the point that puts our North London neighbours back in their rightful place in the build up to this weekend’s derby. I’m looking forward to a more committed outing on Wednesday, from a Carling Cup side hungry to catch their manager’s eye, with the likes of Gibbs and Almunia both capable of ousting their counterparts come Saturday.
I’ve always been a big fan of Gael Clichy, as even when he’s been prone to the odd defensive error, I’ve adored the energy he’s brought to the team, with his inspirational lung-bursting runs late on in games. However he’s been far more reticent about getting forward of late, but of far greater concern has been his apparent vulnerability at the back, which might well have proved even more costly if it wasn’t for Tommie the tank pulling out all the stops.
While I can accept Gael getting turned over occasionally by top-notch opponents, it’s totally unacceptable to see him falling down on the job against relative journeymen and with both Kieran Gibbs and Armand Traore breathing down his neck, should the likes if Gibbs produce a half-decent display against the Scousers, then this would present Arsène with the perfect opportunity to leave Gael out for a few games, giving the young French full-back a chance to rediscover his appetite and the sort of zest that was once synonymous with his performances.
As for the keeper situation, this is far trickier. I’ve advocated that Arsène should stick with one or another, rather than changing horses in mid-stream (now there’s a strange expression….what are the horses doing in the river in the first place?). Manuel Almunia is likely to get an outing in the Carling Cup and after Vito’s cock-up on Sunday, in palming the ball straight into Carton Cole’s path instead of getting a stronger hand to the ball and putting it into touch, should Almunia impress against the Scousers, Wenger is bound to be tempted to reinstate his more experienced keeper.
I’m glad it’s le gaffer who has to make this decision, as although Almunia is unlikely to let us down, we are all patently aware of his limitations and he’s never going to be the sort of dominate presence that’s needed in the Gunners penalty area. I’m yet to be convinced that our Godfather of a goalie has this capacity either, but in Mannone’s case, he might continue to develop into a more dominant personality. However can we continue to afford the occasional cataclysm while we wait to see if he grows into this role.
Considering it’s just about THE most important position on the pitch, surely the only conclusion we can draw from the fact that neither Arsène, nor anyone else for that matter, knows who our best keeper is, that this would imply that we’re actually having to “make do” with all of them and that if we really want to be considered as serious contenders, we need to go out and break the bank to bring in a goalie who everyone recognizes as the world-class business?
Despite it happening right in front of my eyes, I had to wait until I returned home to watch MOTD2 on Sunday night, to see how Van Persie’s last gasp header failed to find the back of the net. But if we were left feeling gutted, it can’t have been half as agonizing for us, as it was for the posse of premature evacuators who gave up on the home team with perhaps 20 minutes left on the clock. I know we’d been encouraging them that “You might as well go home” once the Gunners had taken a two goal lead, but I didn’t really imagine that they’d follow this suggestion, as the mass exodus from their seats in Dr Marten’s stand, directly to our right, inspired the now customary response of a chorus of “Is this a fire drill?” from us Gooners.
I half expected them all to come dashing back in when Carlton Cole pegged the first back for the Hammers. But if they’d rushed off to beat the crowds on the tube, believing there to be nothing worth staying for, it’s hard to envisage the look of disappointment, when they subsequently surfaced from the underground, to discover they’d missed the highpoint of their season to date!
I know I said that the more illustrious the opposition, the more I fancied Ireland’s chances but my worst fears were realised when Blatter’s dodgy draw threw up France, as I would’ve much preferred for both countries to have progressed through the play-offs.
I’m confident that Trapattoni’s Boys in Green are capable of giving the French a run for their money. Although there’s something of a conflict of interest, ultimately, I can but hope that Arsenal fans will end up indebted to the Irish, for ensuring that the likes of Gallas, Clichy, Sagna, Diaby and Nasri are all guaranteed a restful summer, with their feet up!
They’re bound to be two incredibly tense and close fought encounters in November. But then the stakes are so high nowadays, in almost every match, that it’s no wonder there was such a kerfuffle about Saturday’s beach-ball assist at the Stadium of Light. Considering that no one, including the officials, seemed aware of the rules, we can only begin to imagine the sort of brouhaha that would result if a similar incident occurred at the business end of the season.
Meanwhile there was an awful déjà vu moment, when Liam Ridgewell took Theo Walcott out, in the opening blows of a typically bruising encounter with Birmingham. Lee Probert might’ve sent Wenger to the stands at Old Trafford, for harmlessly venting his wrath, but I spent much of Saturday’s match castigating the ref for failing to offer our players anywhere near the same level of protection that was afforded to the Old Trafford water bottles.
Football fans aren’t exactly renowned for their sensitivity but the Brummies hardly endeared themselves by chanting “There’s only one Martin Taylor” while Walcott was receiving treatment, lauding the (mercifully absent) player responsible for shattering Eduardo’s leg.
Nevertheless on seeing a replay of the tackle that’s left Theo sidelined (yet again!) with knee ligament damage, it’s obvious Ridgewell played the ball first, ploughing into Walcott with the follow through. It was a fairly typical “let them know you are there” type challenge and if it’d come from one of our own defenders, I would’ve been applauding his full-blooded commitment.
In an age where defenders are already denied the opportunity of picking a striker’s pocket with a perfectly timed tackle from behind (where they skilfully hook their leg around their opponent, instead of going through them and taking the ball by obliterating his Achilles!), we have to guard against the game becoming overly protective, to the point where it eventually becomes a non-contact sport.
Compared to the combative standards of old, you rarely see a “dirty” game nowadays and it infuriates me that the “by the book” type officiating so often results in refs spoiling the match as a contest, for the millions of viewers, by needlessly sending players off. As delighted as I was to see Man City drop points at Wigan on Sunday, a red card should be an option of last resort, not merely the inevitable result of a couple of mis-timed tackles.
I hate to hear Arsenal fans whinging about the overly physical attentions of the opposition, as we have to accept that teams such as Birmingham are bound to come to our place, intent on making life as uncomfortable as possible, by making up for in effort, what they might lack in natural ability. Only Joe Hart’s fingertips denied Theo the perfect response to being clattered by Ridgewell, as he dusted himself off and attempted to hit the Brummies where it really hurts with a great effort on goal.
Besides, as Arshavin ably demonstrated when he eventually wrapped up the 3 points with our third goal, with our diminutive Russian ominously waiting in the wings, you’d have to be downright bonkers to precipitate his involvement in the game by intentionally injuring Theo!
In Mannone’s boots, I’d have probably also claimed I’d been impeded, in an effort to deflect attention away from his somewhat feeble fumbling, to deny the thuggish Bowyer an opportunity to turn the game back into a bit of a contest with Birmingham’s goal a few minutes before the break.
With the advantage of the use of their arms, I always find it hard to comprehend how a keeper struggles to get above the opposition striker, but if Vito’s to become the godfather of the Arsenal goal, he needs to learn to be more dominant in these circumstances and at the very least get a good fist on the ball.
Clever editing perhaps, but the MOTD team couldn’t resist a cut-away to a bored (smug?) looking Almunia on the bench. Personally I feel Mannone has earned the right to keep the shirt for now, but whatever decision Wenger makes, he must stick with it. Competition for places is healthy, but above all, a defensive unit requires the consistency to develop an intuitive knowledge of one another. Moreover, with goal-keeping mistakes so costly, knowing the slightest slip-up could result in being consigned to the bench for the duration, such tension is almost inevitably going to manifest itself in an attack of the jitters.
It seemed as if Abou Diaby had taken his captain’s program notes to heart. Referring to the goals we’ve conceded, Fabregas commented “as a unit we need to switch on more, react quicker when we lose the ball” and it was a pleasant surprise to see Diaby getting involved at both ends of the park. Abou’s probably not used to putting in quite such an earnest shift, as he faded towards the death, but for all his all-round contribution, he was my man of the match.
Truth be told, our hard to please home fans were spoilt by the way in which we sliced and diced the Midlands side and took a 2-goal lead so early in the game. Such was the increasing mood of frustration around me as the second half progressed that I had to remind myself that we were in fact winning!
Until Bowyer spoiled the party by pulling one back, I imagine everyone was expecting another “fill yer boots” goalfest. Instead of which, we ended up on the edge of our seats, in permanent fear of breakaway equalizer, until Shava settled our nerves and enabled us to relax, by regaining a two-goal cushion five minutes before the final whistle.
Earlier in the afternoon, obviously I was up out of my chair, whooping with delight when Villa took the lead against Chelsea. But on reflection I was wondering if it might suit us best for Villa to be beat, or for both teams to drop points in a draw. Most surprising was the absence of Chelsea’s former “do or die” spirit, as they appeared resigned to their fate in the closing stages.
What with the Scousers dropping more points, Man Utd hardly producing the most convincing of performances and Adebayor reverting to more anonymous type for Man City, I’m suddenly daring to wonder whether the Gunners are capable of the sort of consistency, that might enable us to set our sights a little higher, leaving other to focus on the precious 4th place squabble.
With a glut of stunning goals, we’ve hardly been starved of entertainment at our place to date and so don’t exactly want for the distraction of the “Arsenalisation” process of our new stadium. Obviously anything is better than the vast expanses of anonymous grey concrete, but as someone who will always retain a certain resentment towards the new arena, as a result of it being responsible for me having been denied my much beloved, former Home of Football, I have to admit that I was originally quite cynical about the work that’s been going on there recently.
I assumed that it would be little more than an exercise in window dressing. But I’m only too delighted to admit that I was wrong and since I’m led to believe that our new MD has been the principle motivating force, I am grateful to Ivan Gazides , because his efforts have ensured that I am gradually warming to the new place. After a couple of seasons of relative indifference, I’ve suddenly discovered a sense of pride about the new gaff.
Obviously it’s going to take some genuine history and a proper atmosphere, before it really begins to feel like home, but the works in progress are certainly helping. I’m eagerly anticipating going to each home game now, just to discover the latest developments. With the board having seemingly shown complete and utter disregard for the average punter up until now, by blowing all the budget on the parqué floors, glass chandeliers and ice sculptures, necessary to encourage all the affluent high-rollers to part with anything from £2k to £100k for their Arsenal pleasures, it’s refreshing that they’ve adjusted their focus.
However if I’ve enjoyed wandering around the lower tier concourses at half-time - let’s face it, with my tardy track record, I’m never going to arrive early enough to check the place out prior to the game (funnily enough someone said to me in advance of Saturday’s match that I had better get there early, or else we’d be 3-0 up before I took my seat and although I missed kick-off, I was relieved I arrived when I did, as another five minutes and I would’ve missed both goals!) – finding evidence of the Gunners illustrious history writ large upon the walls, with displays portraying the records of our hat-trick heroes, or the Invincibles and with other formerly nondescript concrete walls, now covered with funky Gooner murals (replicas I believe of those previously drawn in the Arsenal tube station), it’s nothing compared to the emotions that our stirred in me by the eight massive murals going up outside the ground.
The third of these went up in advance of Saturday’s game, so in addition to the original one showing Bastin, Adams, Brady & Henry on the North side, we now have two new ones on the South side portraying Bergkamp, Wilson, Hapgood & George and Seaman, Drake, Rocastle & James. With 12 Arsenal greats up there already and 20 more to come, there’s going to be endless debates about who should and shouldn’t be included, but I’m glad to see that the choice has not been overly weighted in favour of more familiar, modern day stars.
As a mate suggested to me the other day, there is something very Arsenal about these murals, as by the time all eight are finished and with a ring of 32 Arsenal heroes linking arms around the entire ground, guarding the place against all and any intruders, I believe our new gaff is going to end up taking on a thoroughly unique and distinct identity.
Perhaps I’m an architectural Philistine, but to my mind most modern stadiums are all rather dispassionate variations on the glass, steel and concrete theme. Whereas, much like our gorgeous old gaff, hopefully by the time this process is finished, we’ll have a home we can all be proud of, that is immediately distinguishable from any other of its kind on the planet.
With the weight of all that history staring down upon our current squad, here’s hoping they can continue to produce the sort of football to do the feats of their forbears proper justice.
If my blog tickles your Arsenal fancy then please feel free to check out the published collections of my diary pieces from the Immaculate and the Double Seasons
Although I imagine the arguments will only start there, as there are bound to be endless barneys about who's been included and omitted. Moreover, in some respects I don't want the Arsenalisation process to end, as it's inspired in me the most interest I've had in the new stadium since it was opened, as I usually drive along Drayton Park at least twice daily and have been known to take the odd detour along Benwell Rd to the roundabout where it joins Hornsey Rd, in eager anticipation of each and every new development.
Meanwhile, after struggling to find the "Spirit of Highbury" installation, after the Spurs game, where the replica poster was reproduced in the programme, I'm pleased to say that this is now in situe at "podium level" above the Armoury shop. However with it still being fenced off, I'm assuming it's a work in progress, as in fact it would appear as if they've experienced some problems because the corners of this elongated team photo of every player to appear at THOF looks a bit like badly glued wallpaper at present, with lots of creases in the corners. I also assume it will get a covering of some sort to protect the picture, as otherwise unfortunately it's likely to end up defaced with graffiti in a nano-second!
