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Arsenal Versus Barcelona : Oh No! They Killed Nigel

Posted by steww on March 16, 2016 in All Posts

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I grew up listening to the Archers. No, that’s understating it. I probably heard Barwick Green while I was still in the womb. My mother, you see, is a lifelong devotee. The radio has always been an important part of my life from Listen With Mother (which I did, both ante and post natal) through radio dramas and book serialisations to timeless comedies like Hancock and ISIHAC. The Archers was the stitch that held the whole thing together. I can still vividly recall where I was when Mike Tucker lost an eye, Eddie took Clarrie to Norfolk for their anniversary and whenever I think of Mark Hebdon’s death I am transported back to the kitchen in my old house, the sense of shock which stopped me in my tracks as I prepared our supper, as palpable today as it was all those years ago.

When the internet arrived and grew into a feature of our daily lives I discovered to my joy that the BBC had set up what was then known as a message board for people like myself who’s real lives were hopelessly entangled with the radio soap. We could discuss our favourite characters, rage at the ones we disliked and argue with one another over how awful or dire the current episode was. I discovered that far from being a bland middle class woman with a penchant for horses and other people’s husbands, Shula was in fact a hate figure for many of the shows most ardent fans. Nigel was loved and David despised, everybody loathed the writers but nowhere near as much as the editor and were to a man and woman all mildly deranged. I loved it.

It was baffling but wonderful to be connected with a world wide network of similarly minded people and to realise just how much more they knew about the show than I did and how much more they cared and how many of them seemed to find listening to it little short of torture. The years passed and the message board became as important if not more so than the programme itself. Even if I missed an episode I knew what folk thought of the plot (ridiculous) the acting (lamentable) the producer (sack her!) and could weigh in with my own venomous or light hearted contributions.

Then they killed Nigel.

In a move more Albert Square than Ambridge the powers that be decided that the Archers sixtieth anniversary was such a big occasion it ought to be marked in some dramatic fashion. Not just with a documentary or a book release but within the story arc of the show itself. They broke the rules. They killed off a much loved character in a ridiculous fashion and without the merest passing thought of the history of the show and what made it great. It was a cheap shot and a needless one and many of us were so outraged we vowed never to listen again and I haven’t.

I realise now that had I not dived into the world of online dissection and over reaction I would probably never have known I should have been so cross about Nigel’s death. I would in all likelihood have continued with my curious, furtive addiction and still be enjoying the goings on at Brookfield to this day. As I looked through the swirling cesspool of anguish and over blown emotion on both sides of the internet debate in which the simple love of football has drowned since Sunday’s defeat, I can’t help wondering if I’ve been making the same mistake all over again.

Back in the day, when there were wolves in Radstock and hair on my head, I used to turn eagerly to the sports pages in the hope that there would be something – anything – about Arsenal. If there wasn’t it was a disappointment but I got over it. When the scientific revolution exploded into our homes I discovered people were blogging about the club. Some of them were doing a pretty good job too, more honest and earthy than the staid journalists, more partisan. I was cock a hoop. I could read about Arsenal every day, guaranteed, some times from two or three different perspectives. Once I plucked up the courage to add a comment or two I was suddenly swept along on a wave of conversation, commiseration, celebration and tactical analysis. I was through the back of the wardrobe and into a world I couldn’t have dreamed possible.

Nowadays the prospect of Arsenal taking a trip to Spain in the hope of conquering impossible odds in the European cup isn’t one of nervous anticipation. Instead it is an exercise in wading through despair, factionalism, hatred, argument for its own sake and a long drawn out game of playground one-upmanship. Trust me there won’t be any winners in this. I’ve been down this road before. If we football fans don’t find a way to just enjoy the matches as they come and shrug off the inevitable defeats as we once did, we might wake up one morning to find our love of the game suffocated by this artificial world of the armchair expert and the keyboard warrior.

Before you point out the irony of me using a football blog to make this statement, I’ve got that already. Also there’s no need to tell me that football is different from every other passion, is special in some way because I don’t believe it is. There could come a day, and it might come sooner than you think, when all of this garbage that sadly envelopes what could and should be a fun way to stay in touch with other supporters actually destroys our passion for the club. It may already be too late. We may already be in free fall, or we may just be teetering on the edge.

I am painfully aware that I ought to be excited at the prospect of an historic European night right now, and not concerned at the reaction if we don’t make it. If I feel like this, imagine what it must be like for the honourable, decent man who stands every day at the eye of the storm. He must feel like climbing to the roof of Lower Loxley.

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Arsenal – Just the Pair

Posted by anicoll5 on March 14, 2016 in All Posts

 

Theo-Walcott

Good Morning Positivistas,

Our  FA Cup trip is over, and what a magnificent ride it has been, extending back to the despatch of the Totties on 4th January 2014. 26 months undefeated in a knock out competition ? Two more FA Cups to adorn the stadium bunting. Remarkable and a record to be celebrated, not mourned.

I suppose, if you pressed me, I would have to say I hoped that when we did finally stumble that it would be to lose 5-4 in the FA Cup final at Wembley in extra time, following a game of overwhelming football quality etcetera. As the matters turned out we lost to the odd goal in three against a good Watford side. The goal that actually took them through and us out was in fact a beautiful strike from Guerdioura, among the best of the season that I have seen. I salute the Algerian. Losing at the Ems is never pleasant and in a game against opponents who we defeated quite easily a few months back – that is FA Cup football however, the potential for upset is woven through the competition. It is the season, in both the Premier League and in the FA Cup, where the peasants have stormed the throne.

Of the match itself I see yesterday’s comments following Mr Black’s excellent preview set out most of the factual material and opinion. There seems little purpose of rehashing the thrust and counter thrust again. Clearly we could have done some things better. Until the final seconds it still appeared, to me at least, that we could retrieve the tie. Ighalo had earlier swivelled, shot and scored; as the final grains of sands tricked through the glass Danny swivelled, shot and the ball looped over the bar. I shall remember those few seconds for a long while. That is why I watch football.

Reading the hysterical reaction on social media during the game, and in the aftermath of our narrow defeat I sensed that a few of the normally more sensible fans were using the occasion to vent a little frustration, a cathartic expulsion of words and thoughts that had built up and which required an outlet. The examples of “I never want to see X* in an Arsenal shirt again” (* insert name Chambers, Gabriel, Per, Gibbs, Le Coq, Giroo, Theo, AN Other). Even Alexis and Ozil we not spared the accusatory finger. Perhaps those players who did not feel the angry digital mob at their heels can regard themselves as blessed. A good afternoon to be rested or to carry an injury.

For the best of Arsenal supporters the option must be there to howl at the moon, pointless though the gesture is.

Assuming then that over the past 16 hours or so we have individually and collectively managed to pull ourselves together, where does this leave us ?

Next up Barcelona. The pressure is largely off. We are expected to lose. FCB assume the tie is over, Pique went far as to avoid the game and erase his card count. I suspect that on Wednesday that we shall send out our strongest side and try to take from the Catalans what we can. That Nacho and Hector were rested suggests that they will be in action and busy on Wednesday. Danny will be keen to ensure the fine margins he missed by yesterday can be corrected at the first opportunity. As with yesterday the game will be decide by the team that take their chances.

Right that is my two penneth on matters Arsenal this sunny Spring morning. Enjoy the opening of your week.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Arsenal Versus Watford: Candles In The Wind

Posted by steww on March 13, 2016 in All Posts

What a weekend this could turn into. Shotta said he experienced the kind of disturbance in his waters which set off a rumbling in his tail bone causing him to wonder if the stars might align in our favour in one giant, glorious three day festival of sporting joy. Could Rafa sprinkle magic onto the King Power turf and inspire a Newcastle miracle? If so would it be the bookend to a weekend which saw City squander two of their three points in hand, England overcome their Welsh bogey, Chelsea get knocked out of the cup and the longest awaited most deserved red card ever being shown to that nasty little Chelsea player with who’s name I shall not sully the clean sheets of our pristine blog.

I am not one to question the strange spirits which so moved the vitals of one of our finest fans but Shotta knows, and so do you and I, that all of these events both past and in a hopeful, longed for future will mean little if we cannot do our bit and overcome The ‘Orns in our lunchtime FA Cup quarter final. The league results could still turn out in a manner helpful to our cause but Chelsea’s exit from our cup would be like ashes in the mouth if we fail to progress to our third successive semi final.

There is a lot of talk about prioritising this competition over that. This kind of cheap chat is of course the prerogative of the fans; people like us who have nothing to lose and who’s ideas and opinions will never be tested. We can spout any old baloney and deride as clichéd and empty the talk of dealing with the next match as it comes and focussing only on that game. Surely though, Arsène Wenger is quite correct to never give up on any of the competitions in which his team has a chance of success no matter how slight that might appear to be.

Imagine the opposite. Imagine a manager throwing everything at the FA Cup and writing off the Champions League because it looks an unlikely bet or the league because his team must rely on the mistakes of others. What kind of manager would that be? Not the kind I want running the side I support. Not the kind ever likely to inspire his players to success.

If our lads think about Barcelona while on the pitch against Watford they will surely come a cropper. We can indulge in such idle luxuries because it isn’t our careers on the line.  We can miss a goal because we’re composing a pithy tweet, or trying to favourite a post on Positively Arsenal, but if a player misses one because his mind isn’t fully on the job in hand, he jeopardises his place in the starting line up.

I think it is important to understand the distinction between those of us for whom football is a passionate distraction and those who actually build their careers upon it. There seems to be a trend among some supporters to imagine their club owes them something. Their argument runs along the following lines. I’ve paid so much money following this team that I have earned the right to demand this or that from the club. Phooey. Yes you heard me, phooey I say. What utter garbage.

If I went to see every gig during the Burning Hell’s upcoming tour of Britain and Continental Europe it would bankrupt me. Would that give me the right to demand their next album contain songs written in a style of my choosing? No. Of course not. The price of admission  would buy me the right to watch the band. It wouldn’t buy me the right to watch them play well nor to watch them play the songs I like best. They could play two hours of Lighthouse Family covers, and as long as they hadn’t promised otherwise I would have no grounds to complain, would I?

It is no different with football. If you buy a ticket to the match and lose half a days pay and spend thirty quid on petrol getting to the game, all that ticket entitles you to is to see a football match. Not to see a good one, not to see a side composed in line with your personal fancy and certainly not to see a victory. You pay to rent a seat for a couple of hours inside a stadium where a match will take place and that is all you can actually expect for your hard earned.

Do you have the right to moan and grumble if the team was shit and the match dull? Certainly you do. You can also moan that your mum never cut the crust off your sandwiches and that it rained when you went to Bognor for that week back in the long hot summer of seventy six. You can complain about anything you want to but if you choose to do it repeatedly and noisily and publicly and to the detriment of the atmosphere in the ground you will almost certainly make it harder for the team you support to win.

If you really, really don’t like the style of play and are really and truly dissatisfied with the results achieved by the team, I’m going to let you into a secret. You don’t actually have to go to the game at all. If the Burning Hell start sounding like the Lighthouse Family I’ll stop listening to them eventually. Not straight away. I really love the band and would of course give them a chance to mend their ways but I don’t think I’d bother spoiling the gig for the musicians and those who were enjoying it just because it wasn’t my cup of tea. After all that would make me a special kind of arse wouldn’t it?

Today’s opponents have lost three of their last six and only scored one goal in those six matches. They’ve also only conceded five and so while they appear to carry little threat in attack their are not exactly porous at the back. If we come at them in the same way we did against Hull we should be fine. Should be. I don’t take any side visiting the Emirates lightly so don’t read that as over confidence. I simply believe that when we cut loose and play with freedom and élan, we are good enough to beat anybody.

Some thought we started badly in the replay on Tuesday and while it is true we played with more verve, more dash and danger once we’d scored, I thought we were simply cautious, feeling our way into the game and not taking chances. Once we had the opposition on the back foot we went in for the kill. It was a similar story against Spurs in our last league game and had the pressure born fruit before half time when they were on the ropes I’m sure we’d have seen a different outcome.

Today is a chance for the manager and the players to get us to Wembley yet again, if only for a semi final. A chance for someone to be add their name to a long list of Arsenal FA Cup stars and a chance for the supporters to get more for their money than just a seat in the stands. Fortunately the overwhelming majority understand that and I’m sure will give their all to help carry the team. If you have the great good fortune to be at the match I hope you are in good voice. After all, as Shotta said, this could end up being a very good weekend indeed.

 

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A Tail From The Shed

Posted by pedantic George @arseblagger on March 10, 2016 in All Posts
FROM THE SHED. Fred Paxford, Gunner aged 82.
Afternoon! I just got back from a spot of fishing, caught me a small Trout, and a Perch,but I put them back though, having been through them war years as a nipper, I like see things alive not dead. But that’s my business even if you thinks Im a queer sort.
Anyway, I like to come up here to me shed and have a good ruminate away from this noisy world of ours and open up me flask and have a cuppa and a couple o shortbread biscuits. My nephew has one of them computers like you lot, and he showed me what all you have a chat about at PA. I used to like a drop of IPA, but after the Cup Final 1950 I jacked it in.I put me lawn mower over the front room carpet I was so drunk!Mugs game. Although I still have an Arsenal mug, while we’re on the subject-so to speak. But I like having a read of what you’ve got to say,or my nephew reads it out mostly of an evening when he drops by or sometimes on a Saturday lunch.
Anyway, I fancied chewing the fat with you about these here AAA. Daft as a brush some of them! Now what would you say if you saw me in me braces shouting up at the clouds on a rainy day flapping me arms and legs and cursing to the heavens asking wheres the Sun? He’s mad Im? Well thats what I think of that lot.Once the games over, there’s no need to get all hot and bothered under the collar,there’s nothing you can change is there? Anyone can look back in hindsight and be an expert. Life barmy, that’s the way it is.And if youre barmy too then you can get up to all sorts of tricks and thats no good is it? Things are always a changing,you only need to look to the weather to understand that!But this lot, well they moan themselves potty after a game.As if they could do any better! I met Cliff  Holton twice, and that Jimmy Logie, but I knew I could never do what they did.Cor, what players thems were. But I would never have told em how to play. They would have boxed me ears!
Perhaps Im getting a bit soft in me older years, but I always thought being supporter was to cheer the lads on? Mind you its nothing new. There’s always been the moaning types. Moaning their boats races off as if we all want to hear!
If I were cussing at me taters like this here AAA lot do at the lads, me taters would never want to grow,let alone come out of the earth.You see, I water and look after me taters, and me flowers and give em a bit o encouragement.You should see my greenhouse. If you come around next summer, I’ll give you a few tomatoes,won a few prizes in me time.But do you get what Im saying?Not rocket science is it!?
But these Anti lot seem a bit wet behind the ears. Expecting fireworks every weekend, I mean the other side wants to win too! Cor, bit of s shock them boys from Leicester aint it! And Im not too happy about Spurs, but weve seen em fade away plenty of times havent we?
My nephew said that Ozil has been getting a lot of stick and the Welsh lad,Aaron. I suppose the Anti lot wouldn’t know a great player even if they dropped in their laps! Shame her Majesty cant sort it out,her being Queen and all and a Gunner to boot.Mind you I voted Socialist myself back in the old days, but that Thatcher started all this here greed and them fly by nights Blair and Brown, they finished off Socialism and finished off what Thatcher started. None of em care about gardens much,car parks more like.What a shame!
But that Ozil, hes bloody marvellous. Dont you just love watching him play? I like all the lads,but that Joel Campbell hes one to watch too.Old Wenger hes done a good job, going to be  tough one to follow! And that spanking new stadium. I’ve never been me self, as I live out of town now, but I certainly went to Highbury more times than I can recall.In the end I got fed up of getting soaked down the Clock End and went up into the West stand, which is funny, as it was standing in those days.I enjoyed all me games. Wasn’t all roses thats for sure. We had it made in many respects since Wenger came along.
Do you think these anti brigade blokes actually like the game?
Mind you, them newspaper fellas, they like stirring up a heap of trouble dont they? Some of em dont like our club for sure!And some of them silly celebrities. Thems not my cuppa you know. My nephew likes to keep me informed of them silly sods and I think he tries to wind me up! Load of old codswallop!
Well looks like it might rain, and Ive kept you long enough and I’d better get on me bike and get home. Im reading a good book at the minute by JPG Lewis,” the complete illustrated history of concrete”. But if you fancy another chat,just give me a shout, Im often up at me shed hiding from all this here ‘much ado about nothing’ thats in the world today and sometimes it can get a bit lonely.But Ive enjoyed me chat with you.
Cheerioh!
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Arsenal – Tigers tamed

Posted by anicoll5 on March 9, 2016 in All Posts

giroud-rocking-baby-celebration-march-2016

Sabā il kẖayr Positivistas,

Despite the downpour currently inundating North West Norfolk a fine morning to be a Arsenal supporter I’d say. We can bask in the  warm glow from last night’s victory against, yet again, a stubborn Hull side. Checking the book it is more than a year since we put four or more unanswered goals past an opponent. The last time we managed such a crushing result away from home was 3rd December 2012 at the DW Stadium (for those grasping the long departed and lightly missed Wigan).

To bring in the result just three days after an exhausting North London derby, with players missing and on a night when the curse of further injury ambushed us at the KC was even more to our credit.

Of the game itself a fair opening from us, busy in midfield, rock solid at the back, but a little toothless in the final third. We kept at our work however and the dividend came in a rotten back pass from Meyler, and Olivier slotting the ball through the legs of the diving Jakupovic. 652 minutes according to the man on the TV since the locals had to put up with that indignity, 7+ games – I admit I was surprised! If the Bosnian keeper had the a good game and a slice of luck at the Ems three weeks ago his fortune had surely deserted him last night.

So 1-0 up and playing smoothly up to half time the shot from Kieran deserved a goal and I would be delighted to see him and Hector, and Nacho, trying that more often. We have never had prolific full backs in terms of scoring goals but the occasional strike in tight games can contribute mightily.

After half time we wobbled, caused through a combination of Hull picking up their game, and the series of injuries with first Nacho down and obviously hurt, then Gabriel pulling up. Having lost Per to a bang on the head ( no one mention the ‘c’ word – ssshhhh) the evening showed signs of unravelling.

But no – having wobbled we regained our composure, our defence was resolute and then, on 71 minutes, scored what was the killer goal on the night. In its way the second goal opened up the Hull defence as easily as our first. Nice ball in from Theo, exactly where it was meant to be, right height, right weight, right time. For Olly who has suffered some wretched luck in front of goal over the past few weeks it was a second gift, neatly unwrapped and buried.

The remainder of the game was anti-climax, The home side recognised they were not going to come back from 2-0, they knew it, we knew it, they streamed for the exits and an early fish supper, the away fans sang and most* Arsenal fans pondered where to watch the match on Sunday.

Though it would have been easy to settle for the two goal win up popped Theo with a pair of fine finishes. The first was created by probably the best pass of the night from Joel, a perfect diagonal Pythagoras would have been proud of, the second found our English striker/winger pushing in from the right and his deflected shot spun in. Good finishing and a boost to the boy, another who has spent weeks on the bleak plain of indifferent form.

My man of the night though has to be Mo Elneny. I thought he was excellent all night in central midfield, creative going forward, his passing accurate, disciplined when the opposition brought the ball forward, solid tackling, and even winning balls in the air. A little unlucky to be booked for his one foul, but even that had a certain ‘tactical’ origin.

Others worthy of praise Alex Iwobi, the Flamster who silently tidied midfield then slipped neatly into right back, and David Ospina. Just one great save from our keeper last night. Had he allowed the Hull chance to get in front on half an hour …….. well, who knows!

 

Enjoy your Wednesday.

 

 

* And no I am not giving ‘them’ space on this blog.

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Arsenal Versus Hull : Happy Valley

Posted by steww on March 8, 2016 in All Posts

I have, since escaping school at the first available opportunity, travelled a wide and colourfully varied career path. I’ve been a civil servant, a builder’s labourer, a steeplejack, an interior designer and a security guard. That is to name but a few of my interesting and ultimately short lived attempts at finding the ideal method of bringing home the veggie bacon. The role I found suited me most snugly however was that of publican. I ran my bar in the manner I would like any licensed premises to be run, were I the customer. We never made any money but then we were quite disposed to giving away free drinks and paying the people who worked for us. I’d have been kicked out of capitalism college in the first term.

I despise with a passion, soulless, corporate chain pubs. A bar or public house should always reflect the personality of the owner. The best of them thrive on idiosyncrasy, curiosity, the unusual and not on some bland, lowest common denominator, artificial sterility. One way in which our bar reflected both myself and my business partner’s individual charms and dispositions  was the passive, friendly and peaceful atmosphere. We enjoyed an inclusive, calm, left-field environment in which we and our friends could get regularly and spectacularly pissed.

We knew we’d succeeded because we never once had to call the police in all the years we were there. Didn’t have trouble, never resorted to violence ourselves and as such never got threatened with it by the clientèle. Proof of this particular pudding was one local hard man who enjoyed  the occasional break from his usual watering hole. He would mind his own business, sit at the far end of the bar and drink two or three quiet pints, nod and take his leave. I got into conversation with him  once and he said that while he didn’t fit in with the rest of our customers, found them all quite odd in fact, he enjoyed coming to our bar because he could be just another punter. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder, prove himself to anyone or maintain his tough man image. Folk left him alone, and he liked that.

In a similar spirit I’m sure there must be a small number of the malcontented among our vast network of supporters who enjoy the guilty pleasure of reading Positively Arsenal from time to time. Just as some otherwise sane individuals with no obvious character defects might open one of the many negative Arsenal spite blogs with which the internet is so fruitfully blessed. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if those who do are filled with a range of emotions as they shake their heads at us poor happy fools frolicking around in the perpetual sunshine of our delusions.

Like the bruiser in the bohemian bar, I’m convinced we must have some readers who enjoy a break from their daily routine of pouring scorn and hatred on our manager and players. I picture them sitting quietly, like Attenborough on the edge of a troop of fascinating simians, watching us going about our lives as if supporting a football club could actually be different from something akin to an involuntary organ donation.

There is much to be said for our positive attitude you know. As curious as we must appear to those of a less balanced and healthy disposition we are at least consistent. In a season where the club’s fortunes have leapt from hopeless to peerless and back through the floor before bobbing to the surface again we have managed to maintain our equilibrium and just plod on, celebrating the good and trying to make sense of the bad. I wonder if the bloke in the corner of the bar, the visitor, envies us this.

For everyone else this season must be the most discombobulating of rides. Those who celebrate wildly when we’re up and want to burn the whole thing to the ground after every setback must be suffering from a permanent combination of the bends, altitude sickness, oxygen starvation and excessive euphoria. Imagine gripping the tail of the Arsenal fish this season and trying to hang on as it flies, flops, sinks and shoots through the waves. No, I’m much happier keeping to the straight and narrow and hoping for the best.

It has been such a crazy ride this go around that we can face Hull City in the FA Cup and genuinely have no idea how the game might go. They did a fine job of frustrating and stifling us in the home leg, we just couldn’t find a way through. The question for me is whether they will be a little more adventurous, more confident in coming at us in front of their own fans. Their cause would surely be better served with another defend and frustrate performance, looking to hit us on the counter. It’s never quite so easy to do that in the cup when playing at home.

Many people like to pretend that footballers are a species of automaton with all of the more humble human emotions trained and brainwashed out of them. For one thing this allows them to boo and hiss and abuse their own players with impunity. For another it fits their agenda that highly paid footballers ought never to make a mistake nor commit any judgemental errors while on the pitch.

This attitude isn’t only reserved for those for whom a lobotomy would be a waste of time and effort. My late father, a hugely cerebral and gentle man who’s barometer I am not fit to tap, used to shout at Sporstnight “All the money he’s on he should never have missed that” and I can clearly recall my childhood confusion that he would utter such a glaring non sequitur. It was right up there with his assertion that we were pointing nuclear weapons at Russia because, among other things, “They don’t believe in God, son”. My point is even the best of us can stray into erroneous thinking.

Hull’s players are not automatons any more than are ours. They will surely be buoyed up by a ferocious crowd and will find it hard to maintain a disciplined approach. This I feel might provide us with the key to their back door. I hope so. Goodness knows who Arsène will send out there to unlock it tonight but I imagine a few wise old heads will be needed to temper the enthusiasm of youth. Despite important fixtures coming thick and fast and with the FA Cup holding a special significance this season, this is, for me, a massive game and I wouldn’t be surprised to see a strong line up.

Anyway, I need to crack on, I have a final chapter to draft in this damn book that you lot keep demanding I write, so I’m going to leave you to gambol in our happy valley. If you are the one sitting in the corner having strayed in from the harrowing world of endless negativity, pull up a chair, we don’t bite. You’re more than welcome to join us, all you need to remember is we don’t fight either. We support. Each other, the manager, the players and the club. It’s as simple as that really.

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Is Arsenal’s Season Over ?

Posted by pedantic George @arseblagger on March 7, 2016 in All Posts

Today is a guest post from Naill @tuwituwo

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Arsenal – Back on the Air

Posted by anicoll5 on March 6, 2016 in All Posts

2646Suprabhat Positivistas,

For many of us watching yesterday’s epic battle from the Lane in the UK from we suffered the ultimate horror of the armchair fan as the BT signal went down three minutes from the final whistle and a brightly coloured “ We apologise for the interruption – We will be back on the air as soon as possible” popped up. Within a minute the signal was back up in time to see Aaron bursting into the Spuds box and firing over, so it was no more than a moment of eye watering frustration on an afternoon when I had already been pacing to and from and waving my arms in the ‘technical area’ in front of the TV since the 54th minute. The slight advantage of the unexplained broadcasting blip is that the commentators, other than a far distant and faintly mumbling Hoddle, were silent for the last two minutes of the game until Mr Oliver brought proceedings to a close. The missing minute among frenetic 94 no more than a trivial footnote, other than for the unfortunate BT engineer responsible I presume.

 

Reflecting on the technological anomaly this morning than breakdown was a fair metaphor for our afternoon. Our hosts had, entirely predictably attached us vigorously for the opening 25-30 minutes. During that phase we had, I think, defended well if at times a little scruffily. For half an hour we occasionally got the ball over the half way line but could never keep it there. For al their huff and puff though just once did the home side create a clear chance and my man of the match , David Ospina, palmed away the close range effort. Having allowed their Lilywhite storm to blow itself out we took control of the game, scored a beautifully executed goal with a delightfully clever ball from Hector and a touch of magic from Aaron, and for the remainder of the half there was only one side in it. Our hosts were pinned back and, in their turn, holding on for the half time whistle to re-arrange themselves.

 

We were out first on the pitch early for that second half. On a foul weather day my impression was that demonstration of sharp enthusiasm was deliberate, goading the home fans and showing we had come for the victory. And so it proved with Tottingham not “gaining any traction” ( I love that cliché) in their efforts to recover a goal.

 

And then as surely as later in the afternoon some misguided BT engineer brought the broadcast to a sudden halt a left me and a million Arsenal fans open mouthed, young Francis committed THAT FOUL. Off he went, no complaint from either the player, or me. As I said above I started to pace, I Pointed , I shouted, my arms never still. If I had enjoyed the benefit of a fourth official I would have been constantly “at him”, as they say.

 

As Le Coq trooped down the tunnel, the following message could/should have been posted on screen on behalf of Arsenal Football Club;

 

“ We apologise for the interruption – We will be back on the air as soon as possible”

 

Entirely fortuitous though their windfall was Spuds seized the initiative and two goals in two minutes followed. But for a super save from Ospina and the miracle of goal line technology it could have been worse. The second goal from Kane was an absolute screamer. Bloody hell.

But then – but then – just like the BT signal we suddenly switched back on, we stabilised, those few minutes of unnerved disorganisation dissipated and we began to control the game again. We took possession of the ball, we had a shape again. Our passes found their target. Suddenly the ten men of Arsenal were taking the game to the eleven men in white! Did Spuds take their foot off the gas thinking the contest was over – Surely they can’t be that stupid ?

And so, gentle reader, the final phase saw us again I n the ascendancy, a well worked goal from an obviously delighted Sanchez rounded off the afternoon, though not before Gabriel had stopped a few red hearts with a shanked clearance onto the roof of the net – Brazilian humour – he is a card that boy.

Some great performances all over the pitch from our lads, Ospina, Gibbs, Hector, Danny, Aaron, and Mo Eleneny ( what a PL debut!). I would go so far as to say that after a recent “interruption” to service that we are “back on the air” again.

Enjoy your Sunday.

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Arsenal Versus Tottenham: Journey To The Gods

Posted by steww on March 5, 2016 in All Posts

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I’m reading a book written by one of my favourite authors. John Hillaby was a naturalist, historian, international perambulator extraordinaire and above all a damned fine writer. The journeys he undertook and later wrote about are littered with fascinating insights into the history of the places through which he passed and observations on the present at once pithy, unusual and dryly comedic.

While fascinated with the past he never fell into the trap of viewing it through the prism of sentimental nostalgia. He was honest about mistakes of the present but could be equally caustic on the many examples of how badly things used be done. This is just one of the many lessons Arsenal fans could learn from Mr Hillaby’s work.

The book I’m reading at the moment is unusual in that it is all about London. Nothing odd in writing about that huge, muscular sprawling powerhouse of a capital – many pages have been devoted to it in both fact and fiction. I say unusual because this is a walker, a travel writer exploring a city usually traversed via subterranean tunnels or inside slow moving metal boxes through its traffic choked streets.

I am more used to following the author through the lanes and byways as he walks the length of of the country in his peerless masterpiece Journey Through Britain. In this book Hillaby often encountered incredulity from passing motorists when he politely declined the offer of a lift. He found it difficult to explain how taking the slower, often more painful even occasionally torturous route was preferable. Where was the sense of achievement without the discomfort, the danger, the difficulties which preceded the sudden vista from the top of a Scottish mountain, or the unexpected panorama of the sea?

We may feel that we are following the slow and twisting back lanes to the title in 2016. Getting lost on what appeared on the map to be a straightforward road, or becoming stuck on the moors, waist deep in sticky mud when we seemed to be making great strides. We have taken turns which have led us in entirely the wrong direction but still somehow we are trudging on, our journey three quarters done, the other walkers drawing away from us one week then stumbling themselves when we least expect it.

Will Leicester City stick their foot down a rabbit hole again between now and May? Looking at the map they’re following it all seems to be straightforward without a bump in the road to disturb their progress. If they should unexpectedly confuse their north from their south will we be close enough to take advantage? We could do ourselves a huge favour this lunchtime by grabbing hold of the straps on Mr Pochettino’s rucksack and swinging alongside him. If we can get back into our stride today and shake off the hesitant gait which has seen us lose sight of the track on the last two legs of our journey then even the fans who seem to have lost interest in the whole trip might perk up a little bit and stop complaining about their blisters.

Hillaby was a hugely experienced walker. When he wrote Journey Through Britain he was already in his fifties and would one imagine have known all there was to know about travelling à pied. However, he still managed to find himself slowed to a near stand still with cramps, sore heels, and swollen toes even quite early in the journey. At other times he described hitting a stride with an unconscious ease which , once achieved, could, he felt, propel him without effort for days on end. He experienced a  near weightlessness, as if he were gliding across the landscape barely in contact with the sward beneath him.

It is, I suspect, the same for anybody whatever their discipline, whatever their speciality. Even top footballers used to working in harmony with one another can suddenly inexplicably find the simplest task just that little more difficult than it ought to be. Once a couple of cogs fail to mesh the entire machine looks a little ungainly and in a league as competitive as ours the couple of inches by which the end of a move is off means that instead of running out winners by four goals to two we hit the woodwork three times and lose by two to one.

Make no mistake we were not as awful as those who would rip up the map and catch the first bus home would have you believe. A team simply doesn’t create the chances we do nor come so close to scoring if they are playing that badly. Tottenham today will provide a stern test, a steep and difficult climb but the match is also an enormous opportunity. Peg them back today and we not only draw level with them on points but condemn them to back to back defeats and we know all too well how that can drain one’s moral and unchain the lunatic element lurking in the fanbase of every top team.

The odds may appear stacked against us. The stakes are high. Lose and that is three on the bounce and a very tough road ahead. Win and the momentum swings the other way, the pressure shifts, the stone is in their shoe and we begin to step more lightly across the ground, belief is rekindled.

Once John Hillaby crossed into Scotland he had already completed much of his journey and may have been forgiven for thinking the end was in sight and he could stroll to the finish, the hard walking all behind him. Of course he discovered that much rough and unpredictable terrain lay ahead of him. At one point he slipped and rolled down a sheer cliff face among a small avalanche of scree convinced he was falling to an untimely demise. He picked himself up, made a painful and tortuous return to a track he felt sure he’d lost entirely and eventually completed his journey.

Giving up was never an option. Cursing the map, the clouds which obscured his landmarks, the damaged compass or his disintegrating shoes was pointless, counter productive and more likely to guarantee failure. Belief, perseverance and a stubborn bloody minded refusal to allow the setbacks to get him down. Those were the qualities which saw him through, those were the days when he won the battle against despair – not on the beautiful sunny open meadows nor in the easy springing step across gentle turf. Anyone can do the simple stuff. It is when the going gets hard that we are all truly tested.

 

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Arsenal : When you find yourself going through Hell, keep going

Posted by anicoll5 on March 3, 2016 in All Posts

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Good Morning Positivistas,

What a night ! A delicious opportunity to reel in Tottingham and Leicester thrown away, three points that is seemed we must pick up during a good first half performance surrendered to Swansea. The evening ended with a number of players slumped, and I imagine that physical deflation was multiplied by the thousand across the fans in every corner. Even the invariably polite and articulate Arsene cracked in front of the camera. I know it took me a moment to compose myself.

Looking at the football we played I thought much of it was genuinely good. Joel Campbell was a constant attacking threat and always involved. His goal was smoother than a ripe little peach. Ramsey and Ozil worked hard and pulled the Swansea defence about all evening, Giroo provided the target around which our efforts pivoted. Did we make chances ? Oh yes, we made chance after chance. The content of the game reminded me of our thriller at the King Power at the end of September. 5-2 that finished, goals galore, Theo, Olivier and a treble from the irrepressible Chilean, a happy afternoon. If the sun shone brightly that day the weather had changed by 9.40 last night !

We find ourselves in the “perfect storm”.

A set of strikers who create chances but manage to batter only the woodwork into submission, who put the ball a millimetre to the left when a millimetre to the right is required, and often run into a keeper apparently equipped with eight tentacles rather than the standard two hands and big gloves. For the moment we can’t get the ball in the goal, or I should say more accurately we can’t get the ball in the goal enough times to overcome the effect of our second current malaise.

Allied with that misfiring offensive equipment we have a defence that seems to have lost its confidence, particularly whichever two central defenders find themselves on duty. Whether it is Per, Kosc or Gabriel when then are subject to direct aggressive attack by the opposition, when their equilibrium is upset, they seem to lapse into panic. If there is a defensive ‘plan’ (and I am sure there is) it seems to disintegrate within moments. And as their nervousness grows the opposition take advantage of the gaps and errors that such skittishness causes. Last night even the great Petr fell victim to the collective madness. Do I exaggerate ? Perhaps, but in recent games there have been a number of grim examples of allowing the attackers to take the ball, and the game away from us.

 

And yet, despite the footballing equivalent of Scylla and Charybdis, we sit still third in the League. Six points adrift but with ten games to go. To listen to some it might as well be sixteen points. Nonsense I say. With no side truly dominant in terms of form that the Premier League could/should be written off is absurd. If we were six points clear with ten games to go you and I know we would be nervously casting glances over our shoulder, and rightly so. There is much work to be done, to recover confidence, to re-sharpen technique. Do it again, do it better.

The North London Derby but three days away. Always a key fixture but this year….. ! Both sides frantic to secure the three points, both still in the chase for the title. There is no magic pill, no miracle panacea, we face a long march up a steep road, with the precipice of defeat a step away. The players must work hard, regain their optimism, and not give up, indeed never, ever give up. Will you join them ?

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