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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

hillaby

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

the_perfect_strorm_image

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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Arsenal Versus Swansea: An Ugly Lovely Game

Posted by steww on March 2, 2016 in All Posts

Ever wished you didn’t have a game to watch quite so soon? Usually I find a quick turn around to be the best medicine, get the stench of defeat out of the emotional laundry with the fresh breeze of a new fixture. Unfortunately I also like to spend a few days convincing myself that it is after all only a game and asking why am I getting myself so worked up about it and telling myself there are many more important events in my life with which to concern myself. All the usual self deluding froth with which one hopes to obscure the windscreen of one’s thoughts.

After a wholly unexpected and unwelcome result at the Old T however I needed more than these past two days to want even to think about the round ball game. I had the distraction of the rugby which helped enormously as it gave me and my Man U supporting pal some safe ground over which we could walk together, deftly avoiding the potholes and land mines of football.

All credit to him. He knows I don’t talk footy to friends or enemies after a defeat. I don’t find shouting and arguing and looking for someone to blame as cathartic as others do and so prefer to change the subject and he didn’t mention it even once. Given the season they’re having and the fact that he thought we would clobber them, that must have taken some restraint.

So when I glanced at the fixtures and saw we are opening the doors and welcoming visitors from over the bridge tonight I greeted the news with slumped shoulders and a weary resigned sigh. Of course we all know that the best antidote for disillusion and regret is a thumping good victory. Should we pull one from the bag then, like you, I shall wake up on Thursday morning and place my hat at a jaunty angle before tucking into the eggs and bacon. Such are the shallow, insecure vagaries which dominate the psyche and personality of the football fan.

It is bloody silly placing our happiness in the hands of others isn’t it? I don’t mean those we trust at home, work or at play I mean people we neither know nor are ever likely to meet. Distant millionaires who know nothing of our existence and who’s lives would be entirely unaltered were you and I to perish in a freak ballooning accident over the Pyrenees taking with us all of the readership of Positively Arsenal in the resultant cabin fire.

The more I think about it the more it seems akin to that nasty habit and dangerous addiction, gambling. You decide that your mood, and that of those about whom you purport to care most, is best served by flinging all of your hopes on a bonfire set by people without your best interest at heart and who will only profit from your weakness or affliction.

And still we come back for more.

Of course if you were thinking of quitting and trying to change your life it doesn’t help when Leicester go and drop two points at home against West Brom on the eve of our next fixture. Suddenly they have extended their lead over us and the Spuds but we can, with the right result, claw back a couple of the lost Old Trafford points.

We ought not to be surprised by this. I don’t see any reason to suppose that such a topsy turvy, fairground ride of a season should suddenly level out and become predictable just because there are only ten or eleven games to go. A return to form for our men, a little help from the Hammers and Jurgen Klopp’s Flying Circus and Thursday may dawn bright and cheerful after all. Of course the reverse is equally possible and there would be many a mattress in need of changing in many a cot were that to be the case. Sales of Sudocrem would no doubt rocket judging by the infant out pouring after Sunday’s result.

In among all of this emotional wreckage Swansea FC are quietly making their way along the M4, stopping no doubt for a go on the Space Invaders and a family sized bag of Revels at Leigh Delamere, and rocking up to N7 in time for this evening’s 7.45 kick off. What mood will they be in I wonder? Buoyed by our indifferent results and their history against us they should be in the right frame of mind to give us a game tonight. I certainly hope so. I don’t want us to be faced with another packed defence, it makes for such an excruciating match.

Swansea looked like doing us a favour when they took the lead at WHL recently but according the readers of the South Wales Evening Post they are incapable of defending a lead which given our propensity for conceding the initiative is music to my ears. We all know what is wrong with our side right now, a couple of key players horribly out of form and the necessary rotation during the fixture clog disrupting the rhythm of the rest. The question is can these things be put right in such a short space of time? Who the hell knows? Not me.

It all depends how deep the malaise actually runs. It’s all too easy to look on from the outside and presume there are seismic issues here. That is usually because we are so desperate for the team to do well that we fear the worst and allow that fear to overcome our reason. The side might be just one goal away from clicking, a couple of slick moves away from rediscovering their balletic, telepathic poise – it would not surprise me one bit.

So come on boys and girls, mums and dads, let’s not allow the occasional setback to spoil the fun of following the finest team in the land. Let’s not invest so much in success that we are robbed of our dignity in defeat. Let’s try instead to remember why we are all here in the first place. To enjoy the game of football played by some of its finest practitioners, and maybe, just maybe, see them come away with a trophy every now and then. Sounds like a plan to me. You in?

 

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The Critical Gooner: Where Does It Start And Where Does It End?

Posted by ArsenalAndrew on February 29, 2016 in All Posts

They used to go everywhere together …

For some fans of Arsenal, the relationship they have with the club is akin to what I imagine a failing marriage, patched up ‘for the sake of the kids’ but fundamentally dysfunctional, feels like.

The feeling of having been here before, the compromises, the same old arguments, the same old sticking points.

Eventually though, the kids all grow up and flee the nest.

And maybe that’s where the analogy, thankfully, ends.

In some retail circles, the idea of under-promising and over-delivering holds currency as the risk of angering and then losing disappointed customers is considered too great to play games with. If you falsely promise a customer that an out of stock item will return to stock sooner than is actually the case, customer anger general exceeds the level of the original frustration of the item being out of stock in the first place.

In the ‘90’s the unknown Wenger promised less than nothing when he first pitched up at Highbury and in his first full season, as we all know, over-delivered in delightfully outrageous fashion. Who knew it would be anything more than a one-off but that first title was followed by success after success all the way through to the opening of the Emirates.

In many ways, the Emirates Stadium was the ultimate symbolic example of the appearance of a football club over-promising and subsequently seemingly under-delivering.

To some extent, we have all become the old married couple trying to get back to the way we once were. Oh for the spirit of Highbury! The romance of the cups, the hopes for the future. As upstarts, over-coming the odds, Wenger’s early years seemed so much more harmonious, so much more fun and the brick bats of outrageous fortune felt easier to handle, somehow, even when we didn’t have it all our own way.

The move to the swanky new stadium, with its swanky seats and prices to match proved to be a damp squib for too many of us, as much of a let-down as the lamentable food and drink on offer within the stadium concourse, over-priced and unloved in equal relative measure.

Most of the fans keep plodding along of course, determined to keep some semblance of the old magic alive and with most of them certain, in their heart of hearts, that our time will come again. And it’s been by no means all bad news with European competition an annual given, a couple of cups and the odd near miss punctuating ten years of a riveting, compelling style of football, widely regarded, according to many neutrals, as the nation’s favourite.

But still the underlying issues remain. The vulnerability to injury. The subsequent disruption and loss of form. The perceived annual wobble as we reach the ‘business end’ of the season followed by the frustrating recovery as thoughts turn to the next season, set up with ephemeral promise and seemingly illusory potential, over and over again.

All of the above, of course, is only true when taken in the context of the aggregation of the whole of Arsenal’s Emirates’ years.

In truth, for most other clubs, most seasons since 2006-16 would have been considered pretty exciting and very nearly very ‘successful’.

However, it is the cumulative effect of all our near-misses that is causing the problems in the marriage. Sure, there are set-piece setbacks most seasons and losing to Man U is just one of a number of ‘accelerants’ causing the bonfire of supporter frustration to flame up in what is now alarming – and alarmingly predictable – fashion. Losing (or even drawing) with Spurs is another. We all know the rest, some seasons they come and some seasons they go.

So, losing on Sunday in Manchester by a goal was always going to be disappointing for all connected with the club.

But it’s the context of the defeat, coming as it does as one of ten years’ worth of defeats at Old Trafford, that causes otherwise moderately sane fans to completely lose their rag. Their very sense of perspective causes them, ironically, to lose perspective. In reality, it was only one game. In our heads – as it is in the record books – Arsenal have failed to win in the League at OT since 2006, a remarkable statistic when looked at as a block of results.

And of course, THIS year, due to circumstances we are all familiar with, we were favourites to win this particular encounter. More fuel to the flames.

To make it all worse, much worse, Spurs only go and win from 1-0 down and the upstarts in the Midlands continue their glorious streak. That neither clubs have been able to perform at this level for more than one season will remain unnoticed by the majority of observers; the ‘fact’ is, and despite the absence of petro-dollar funding, they appear to be over-coming the odds as Arsenal continue to underwhelm.

So it wasn’t just an irksome defeat on Sunday, it was defeat whilst all around, our nearest rivals were winning, and winning in some unanticipated style. Under-promising and over-delivering, if you will.

In some ways, Wenger’s temerity in keeping us so competitive for so long has in rather bizarre fashion, been at the heart of the questioning dilemma experienced by the critical Gunner.

The glamour of European competition, the excitement of extended cup runs and lengthy unbeaten spells in the league sits on one side of a football supporting equation. On the other side, our inability to beat everyone all the time has the now default effect of causing the club to perennially over-promise and under-deliver. Season after season.

Every other manager in the league has come and gone as ultimately they failed to keep their club competitive. This includes Ferguson who knew the game was largely up when he over-paid for van Persie for a final season hurrah which ended in triumph at the cost of many years subsequent rebuilding.

Only one man has outlasted every other serving manager in the country and his record – when taken in context with the records of every single one of his competitors – really should speak for itself.

So where does that leave the Arsenal fan base?

Still leaving home games ten minutes early as they mutter about players who don’t give 110% for all 90+ minutes? Still not turning up for cup games at home, if the empty seats were anything to go by during recent encounters.

The years have ground down many of us into a whimpering mass of half-hearted support, bearing the club colours with resentment over prices and anger at the unspent sums seemingly gathering dust in the accounts. Pissed off with the pies and the, er piss on sale in the stadium. No longer focussed on the delivery of unconditional support for the club they once truly loved, their energy dissipated by the latest outrage vocalised and amplified on social media.

At the end of the day, on Sunday, Man U played rather unexpectedly well for their three points which were hardly undeserved. For 70 minutes we kept Barca at bay. And against Hull, whilst we never looked like losing, our out of form attack could not find a way through.

They say this could – and still might – be Arsenal’s season to win the Premier League. Momentum is clearly not with us in the way it has been with Leicester all season and, more latterly, Tottenham. It will take a monumental effort from the players to regain traction to overtake rivals who will be unlikely to repeat the trick in 12 months’ time with the burden of European Cup Competition added to their unlikely fixture mix.

I agree with many who suggest the Arsenal squad this season have failed to truly hit the heights of the form we all assume they are capable of. The Ozil assist record sits uncomfortably alongside our missed chances tally.

But as fans we all have to ask ourselves one question.

Let’s imagine the team rediscover their shooting boots, remember to lock the back door and deign to dominate midfield to go on a season-ending marauding run that takes us to the very front door of being next year’s champions.

Will we as fans have managed to stay with them? To help push them through the door and over the threshold of footballing bliss.

Or will our boys end up winning – or losing – regardless of the fans.

Have we as fans become irrelevant to the success and failure of our own club?

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Arsenal : Oh Cruel Fate …..

Posted by anicoll5 on February 28, 2016 in All Posts

The End of the World

“Oh Cruel Fate, when wilt thou weary be?

When satisfied with tormenting me ?

What have I e’er designed, but thou hath crost ?

All that I wished to gain by thee, I’ve lost.”

 

Good afternoon Positivistas,

Though for some of you it may still not be beyond noon, and for all of us the adjective “good” is at best superfluous and more likely grossly inaccurate. A hugely disappointing performance at Trafford Park, and a result that may have reduced the genuine chance of a Premier League title that we came into the game with to an outcome of arithmetical possibility, again.

On paper, that deadly old ‘paper’ that so often defies and upends logic in football, we were favourites to win in Manchester. On ‘paper’ the makeshift United side, poor at home and weak away, their manager on the abyss, reliant on youngsters, was a Sunday lunch that should have been efficiently consumed. Instead we slink away, beaten, in truth deservedly beaten, and with a degree of embarrassment. It is one thing to be cut open by Barcelona, quite another to be dissected as we were for the third, horrendous and ultimately decisive goal from Herrera this afternoon.

With the exception of Petr Cech, Hector and Danny Welbeck I doubt any of our players will feel much satisfaction today, or look back on the ninety minutes as a game in which they performed to their abilities. The passing was not crisp, the several goal scoring chances we created just not sharply enough take, the TEMPO that needed to get hold of the ball and seize control of the game was never there. We performed at 6 out of 10, when at least 7 was required. I do not intend to launch a witch-hunt and identify who did what, or did not do what. That is not my, or our, way on Positively Arsenal. We bring support, not accusation, despite the winds blowing bleak in our faces some days. I suspect however that the starting line up today will not be the same as begins against Swansea nor at the Lane next Saturday. And that leads us on to the reality of football, that all glory, all despair, elation or deflation is transient.

Right, so having got the sack-cloth and ashes routine out of the way I see that we have 11 Premier games to play, and 33 points therefore to play for. It is time to steady the ship, not rock the boat. The first of those games, as I say, is against the Swans on Wednesday at home, a contest that is eminently winnable. As long as we are not playing the game on ‘paper’. Our North London neighbours, who much to their credit earned three valuable points against the same visitors today, have a slightly rougher trip to the Boleyn ground on the same night. Let us claw a little self respect back, and three useful points, before the game at the Lane, then see where we are on Saturday morning.

 

I am sure you will understand If I provide a slightly shorter version of the match report this afternoon. I sense the reduced burden will benefit us all.

 

 

 

 

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Arsenal Versus Manchester United : Sympathy For The Devils

Posted by steww on February 28, 2016 in All Posts

Ricky Gervais is a funny bloke. A far more talented actor than he is ever given credit for and pretty sound on several issues, most obviously our systematic abuse of other species. He also likes to wind people up. Not with the mindless trolling employed by those less cerebrally gifted than him but in a way intended, one suspects, to provoke us to consider what he’s saying and examine our own prejudiced positions.

Lately, via the medium of Twitter, he has been exploring the concept that while calling an individual daft or stupid can be insulting, describing an idea in such terms cannot. By definition an idea shouldn’t really be able to be offended or to take anything we say personally. After all, it doesn’t have a person does it? Many have refused to accept this argument and continued to hurl abuse and incoherent, frothing rage at their screens when he pours scorn on an idea to which they subscribe.

I broadly agree with Mr Gervais on this issue but feel he is a little disingenuous if he really is ignoring certain perfectly understandable human traits inherent in all of us. If, for example, I think an idea is pretty neat and you call that idea a bladder full of rancid rat’s offal then some of that mud sticks to me for holding the aforementioned offal in such high esteem. You are, by association, implying I have either failed to think the thing through or am too hopeless to spot how silly the idea was in the first place. So yes, an idea cannot take offence but the person who sees their idea under fire from the excrement gun is likely to feel smeared by at least a small amount of collateral ordure.

All of this came to mind as I was twiddling my thumbs wondering when the day would dawn when I finally wrote a match-day blog and actually failed entirely to mention the football. I am after all a rank amateur with no inside knowledge or special insight only hired because George enjoyed my ability to turn a phrase or two. Having your name above a newspaper column or blog page does not of itself confer upon you any particular status.

This is the same for celebrity fans who wield no more weight with their opinions simply because their theatrical careers have thrust them into the public eye. I like famous fans to be like Marc Riley or Bob Mortimer who’s public utterances are entirely impossible to separate from yours and mine. Simply supporters cheering their side on, singing when they’re winning and lambasting the ref when he gets it wrong. Just as it should be. Some of our own famous fans have failed spectacularly to realise their place on this earth and have flipped, flopped and issued verbal farts of a most distressing stink since the money which poured into Stamford bridge and Manchester so distorted the Premier League.

I don’t intend to name the one who leaped to mind – these graceless oafs have more than enough coverage without I add sticks to the bonfire of their vanity. I recall him being interviewed on TV just before a big game, possibly a cup final, possibly not. This was back in the golden years and he was purring over how Arsène’s team would pass the opposition of the park and revelling in his association with the club. Years later, during the Stadium Debt Years he only spoke to garner cheap laughs and to make sarcastic remarks at the expense of our players and of course the manager.

I used to despise people like this but then I thought of the whole Ricky Gervais thing and realised what was happening. These vacuous attention hungry whores were basking in the reflected glow of the team and its achievements. By association they felt more successful because their team was successful. When the trophies dried up and the media began their unrelenting campaign of negativity on the subject of all things Arsenal the poor dears felt smeared by that same association.

So this guy panicked and tried everything in his power to say “No no – this doesn’t reflect on me at all, look see, I too think the club is mismanaged, staffed by donkeys and without hope or value. Not only that see how clever I am when I take the piss out of them. Love me, love me, love me.”

He and his ilk simply didn’t want to be conflated with an idea which appeared to be held in derision. They were of course forgetting that a supporter’s role, no matter what their day job, is to support, through, as Bob Wilson’s quote at the top of this and every PA page reminds us, thick and thin.

Just as we supporters were delighted with Yaya Sanogo’s goal scoring feats against Reading yesterday so the failures and birth mistakes among our fanbase, whether famous or humble, greeted the news with sarcasm and scorn. It’s a shame that you and I and those malcontents are talked of by the fence sitters as being all as bad as each other. The one side of the divide does not support the club and we do. It is simply surreal to say a pox on both your houses as if supporting the club is as idiotic and counter productive as not supporting it.

There we are though. This is the fate of the modern fan and it is a burden we must bear with equanimity and good grace. I don’t believe we ought to puff ourselves up with pride when the team does well any more than we should take it personally when Arsène’s ideas are reduced to a hissing and a byword. Neither is down to us.

Having said all of that I must confess that there are few real absolutes in football. Apart from the first commandment “Thou shalt not support Bristol City” and the second “Thou shalt mock any team from Middlesex” the whole thing demands a certain fluidity of thought, a malleability of prejudice from its followers.

Imagine for example Jose Mourinho taking over at Arsenal. I don’t say it would ever happen but if it did we’d have to find something positive not just to say but to think about the man. A man we have held in contempt for so long the habit must be engrained in us like the name of a resort in a stick of rock.

Imagine if the manager of Manchester United took such an exciting and justified stance against the revolting lickspittles of the British press corps that we feel like jumping up and applauding him. Imagine if his side suffered the kind of injury blight usually reserved by the fates only for Arsenal. It might be impossible not to empathise and even sympathise with a club who so recently made our lips curl at the mention of its name. Imagine if they sunk so low in the table that they were no longer a threat. We might find ourselves in a less vituperative mood towards them. Odd how things change. How some of our fans are already turning on Leicester for their tactics, individual players for their cheating, referees for their leniency towards them, the media for fawning over them.

I don’t suggest we should rush out and hug the first Man United fan we meet in the street but today sees us visit a ground no longer reeking of sulphur. A fixture I used to detest over all others has been eclipsed by visits to Stamford Bridge and to the Potteries.

I am not predicting victory, I haven’t, I hope, an hubristic bone in my body, but we do not travel to Salford with anything close to the trepidation as that in days of yore. They are a side unable to put a decent run together so disrupted have their manager’s plans been and we are a side capable of great football but with our goal threat blunt and our scorers misfiring. They will field youngsters eager to impress and we will face a choice between an out of sorts Theo, a delicate and recuperating Danny and Joel a man in danger of becoming sidelined once again. I prefer to see Aaron farther forward and Santi or Jack partnering FC at the base of our midfield but that can’t happen and anyway I’m not a football manager – thank God. Neither am I famous enough to have an opinion that matters.

I just support the club, win, lose or draw. It’s about all any of us can do really. Oh, and I’m going to try not to take it personally if someone thinks that is a stupid idea.

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Arsenal v Barcelona:Heard and not Seen

Posted by anicoll5 on February 24, 2016 in All Posts
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Normally you would be in the expert hands of Andrew and he would be writing this up, however he’s on the old Eurostar going or coming, to here or there so I’ve volunteered to stand in or write in or write up, and no doubt will soon be standing down.Perhaps it is “writes up?” but knowing things are,Wrights probably down after yesterday.
Except I haven’t seen the game, I heard it.The old Blind Pew experience!
I listened “in” to the excellent service supplied by AFC on Arsenal player, as for us located outside of the UK, the BBC puts blocks on Five Live over the radio-wave borders.Thanks Bleeb (as good ol’Fins would say).
Dan Roebuck is the commentator general  (and a fine asset to AFC he is) and in this occasion he was ably assisted (as he often is) by ex-Gunner, Stephen Hughes.
If you don’t listen “in” to the match-day coverage, aside of you genuinely missing an articulate commentary on the action, you are also missing out on the in-jokes. For example, whose wearing the lucky(ha ha that old chestnut!)scarves, or if the lucky brussels sprout that a chap from Spain puts into his freezer on match days is working and now after last night we had the  ‘lucky’ cabbage that somebody else shoved in the freezer in order for us to win the game.
And then there’s the Gooners who knit while the games in play, who go by the name of Sarah and Megan for whom or what is well beyond moi, but it seems to sooth the old nerves apparently and good on them. The microcosm of superstition in Gooner-world is mightily fascinating. Who knows how bizarre it can get, a great index of possibilities?Somebody even offered to get in a freezer for luck themselves yesterday(no joke) rather than shoving the lucky cabbage in there  —- all in the name of Lady Luck. How she is courted! (why is she a she pray tell?)…
Anyway,from what I could hear, King Mesut’s  pre-match urge to the fan-base gebirge was to be as loud as possible in order to sweep the team along,and it certainly sounded that way,which meant high octane excitement to those of us imagining the in-play. And the whistle blew and the game got under way.
All I can recall from the first half is that the Ox messed up a chance, and we seemed to be doing well and then the Ox took a knock and tried to play on, and limped off into the tunnel at HT. I think most Arsenal fans thought(myself included) that we might be able to win this game,yet really
I was terrified that the old Vampire might start tearing us apart not with his teeth but with his skill, but obviously the crosses were out and everyone had scoffed a load of garlic,but he certainly came close to scoring at the end of the half. Mind you old Bela Lugosi, hes a good player despite his biting antics.
However the Ox came on for the second half, but couldn’t run the injury off and he went back down the tunnel again.
The crowd in the stadium didn’t sound as loud in the second, yet I recall some intense pressure by Arsenal including a close chance by Larry and then Barcelona making a counter attack and scoring. The commentary team echoed that strange feeling that you get from watching (or listening) an Arsenal game,the kind where you hope for something extraordinary and it starts to slip away and everyone’s mouths starts drooping like Bruce Grobbelar’s moustachio (for those of you too young to know, Bruce was a famous TV chef). After that there weren’t too many jokes by the voices on the internet radio. And nobody gave a crépe about the cabbage, brussel or the bloke in the freezer.Maybe hes still there,nice and still, next to the peas?
As the Arsenal were still hanging on and who knows what might happen, I started wondering if  they could they repeat the same result as back in 2011? Time flies doesn’t it?What a game that was, and regardless of his loyalty to AFC, old Van der Graf-Percy could certainly strike a ball.What a game Jack had that night too, and how difficult things have been for him since.
Switch! back to the game… a defensive mistake by Per lead to What a Mess by Frank Muir getting hacked by the Flamkuchen and a  penalty it was.And became converted by the big Mess.At that point everyone seemed to think it was over.And after a bit of added time it was.
I’m personally not part of the tweety-pie world or go on the devils-own blogs anymore as life is too short,but if I was the Comté de St.Germain (living forever) and took the luxury of looking at Tweetsville and the blogs, I’m sure I would observe the frothing phlegm and finger pointing meltdown on at Per,Larry,AOC and the Flammkuchen. Not that the critical voices could do any better themselves.Yes, I know we’ve all aloud to have an opinion, but as  Alvy Singer would say ” do you have to give it so loud?”
If they could then perhaps they might have played for the Arsenal,and taken a bit of responsibility, but such is the phantasy world of armchair illusion is that when you sit in it, you too believe that you can be a Arsenal player of the highest calibre, either that or become weird bloke Davros and try to take over the world or the internet or even your own living room?
You see the armchair converts you into a bionic Gunner.The sideburns of Charlie George, the left foot of Liam Brady, the grit of Tony Adams and the rest from Mr. Henry. and the intelligence of that old Arsenal fan,Einstein. My Arsenal.Even Gus Cesar was better than any of them thar grumble-weeds. But I wont tell them if you don’t.
Well, what can we do? Perhaps listen to the tune by Rodgerd and Frankenstein “Happy Talk” that was in a film called South Pacific, made in 1958 about life on a farm in the mid- west during Christmas. Anyway some lyrics go like this…
“Happy talking talking happy talk, talk about things you like to do, if you don’t have a dream how you gonna have a dream come true?” um beep beep, um beep beep-that bit isn’t in the lyrics though and it goes on a bit longer, but ye get the point?
Yousa thinks that’s potty? Now way guy, that’s the only way,even if old Lao Tze says it aint! Per needs support, what the point of frying his Arsenal when he knows what happened?So do all the other lads and so does Arsène. They dont need our advice, but they do need our support and belief. After all we now have to take the great Norvern overland road to the Underworld of  Hades, the great lair of our old arch enemies them Red Devils.So hopefully somebody will bring a bell,book and candle and do the job rather than asking the brussel sprout kami for help?
The Manure breath-beasts will be smacking their lips in anticipation, and our old Puddleglums will be glumming their puddles,but thats Steww’s job to speculate on that one.And I’m sure his preview will be great as always…
Chins up me old Gooners,where there’s life there’s hope.Plenty to sing for, and we still haven’t been booted out of the CL,yet…
And if you lean in a little you can hear in the somewhere in the background the sound of Brian Moore’s commentary “and that was a great goal by Sammels” “two goals in something like 90 seconds”, a bit echoey?-yes a bit, faint?-maybe, but full of passion…and according to some, history repeats itself, and then there’s the old 5th Dimension,no not that band or album, but the dimension where all possibilities are already being played out and all things can happend…mmmm think on!
Right,I’m off to see what’s in the freezer, lucky something I hope! and oh yes,COYG!

 

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Arsenal Versus Barcelona : Unsettled Scores

Posted by steww on February 23, 2016 in All Posts

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Always a curious feeling going into a two legged knockout game. On the one hand we have the excitement of taking part in the final stages of the Champion’s League, one of the greatest club tournaments in the world. On the other hand we face the chilling prospect of trying to get past the five time winners, current holders and owners of some of the greatest footballing talents ever seen wearing the same shirts. On the other hand tonight will only be the first half, part one of two, with the only guarantee that of an undecided outcome. In short, this is the kind of night suitable only for those with three hands.

I never know what to feel about a first leg. I’m wound up like a hungry boa constrictor getting around his first wild pig of the day and yet I know from much experience that I will be left with a sense of anti climax after the final whistle regardless of the score. Just like the draw for the next round of the FA cup I cannot get myself interested in something that hasn’t happened and may not come to pass. We could be leading by two clear goals after tonight or losing by a similar amount and it will mean nothing. Nothing beyond a head start or a handicap at the opening note of the referees little instrument in the Camp Nou in just over three week’s time. Both circumstances could be dramatically altered within minutes of that note disappearing into the ether. A very odd state of affairs.

Is it important to win a home tie? Of course it is. It’s always important to win any tie. Is it the most important thing or is not conceding an away goal more significant? Is the away goal rule the biggest pile of dog doo in the history of the football rule book? Would you rather travel to Barca two one up or at nil nil? If they fail to score do they play with less panache in their home leg being all the time conscious of the damage a break away goal can do? Do we opt for Theo’s pace or Olivier’s guile and habit of scoring against the big boys? Is Danny fit enough to start? Will Alexis’ frustrating lack of form evaporate into a glorious exhibition of destruction against his old club? Do we defend as against Bayern or go for it and try to surprise them?

Today I am full of questions. Tomorrow I fear I will only have more. What can we predict with any certainty? Death and sex according to Woody Allen who went on to add “Two things that come once in my lifetime. But at least after death you’re not nauseous” he might have been talking of victory and defeat.

According to the form book we are Hull and Barca are us tonight. The switch from shoe in to also ran is a curious one for us fans and I suspect for the players. Supporters are swinging between the moodiness of an anticipated mauling and the thrill at the thought of overturning the odds and of a famous victory. We could of course defend with heroism and whatever luck is going around (apologies to Millsy for use of the forbidden concept) and stun them on the breakaway. We could get tonked.

But if we are cast in the role of Hull just remember what happened as you ate your lunch on Saturday and remember that as crazily talented as their players are they can only field eleven of them. As long as the referee doesn’t intervene to send any of our chaps off for an ill deserved early splash in the team bath then we too will have eleven guys out there and none of them will be there as a reward for winning a competition in Take A Break.

Our players are not mugs and our manager is not wet behind the ears. No one gave us a prayer before any of the historic European victories we have enjoyed down through the years and so what? Fuck the doubters and the spineless and the agenda driven anti Arsenal mainstream media; win lose or draw we’ll give it everything we’ve got and who knows we might just stagger out of the evening bloodied but unbowed. We might even give the darlings of the pundits a couple of bruises of their own to think about on the slow boat back to Catalonia.

I hate being underdogs, I hate the thought of defeat to certain teams more than any others and tonight’s opponents are among that select, foetid few. It makes me nervous not because I assume we’ll lose but because in the event of a defeat the taste will be so much more bitter. I believe we can do it, I know it will be tough. Obviously it won’t be the end of the world if we lose but it will put a dent in the momentum we’ve been trying to build since our run of unwelcome results in January. Then again it won’t mean a thing because of course tonight will end at the start of a kind of long drawn out half time.

Nothing will be settled. Nothing will be known. Nothing is certain. A curious sensation of detachment accompanies the butterflies and tension as I anticipate what may be a great European night. One nil to the Arsenal is my preferred outcome. Three nil would surely be too much to hope for and they’d rip into us with a nothing to lose attitude in the second leg. Two nil is a mischievous lead. Seemingly impregnable until you concede a goal and then the momentum shifts horribly in favour of the other lot. One nil might put them in fear of the away goal and so cause them to keep half an eye on the back door. Gives us at once something to defend and something to aim at. That’s not a prediction you understand. That’s just a positive scenario and one which I can actually imagine.

Anyway, time to stick the kettle on and rinse out my lucky Arsenal mug. Or not. I could of course wait and use it for a cuppa at any time in the next three weeks and I still would have employed it’s nebulous, recondite charms during the course of the tie. It’s an odd one to be sure. But then these two legged ties are odd aren’t they? Curious chaps. Jigsaws with missing pieces. Sausage sandwiches with no brown sauce. Story arcs with no denouement. A concerto with no final note.

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