Hello! How are you?

On Saturday 28th of September at 3.00 pm (western European time) we entertain at our shiny shed the infamous And Leicester from England’s Waist lands.

I’ve been struggling with this fixture and I have no idea how to write about it .I want to apologise in advance, the only way I can write this preview is to find some different (narcissistic) angle that can get me motivated, otherwise I just can’t get there.

As a kid in the 1970s, we often went down to Dymchurch on the south coast and rented a static caravan there. Meaning; retch-inducing tinned ravioli, finding severed sheep’s tails in the field behind the caravan (“here mum, what’s this?”) and mostly overcast days on the polluted beach and a freezing grey-green sea, that is if you could actually cross the busy road to get to it without being reduced to tomato purée. Laughable it it might have been to some, but it was exciting and full of new and phenomena to digest , I wouldn’t swap it for other lives or memories made.

For some strange reason we would hang out where the sewage pipe came out on the beach whilst trying to avoid the mysterious dark clumps that some comedian said was onyx ( we didn’t check), whilst playing our favourite game of filling up a plastic bottle (plenty left behind by the conscientious sharing, caring litter distributors of life) until it floats properly and then bombing the shit out of it with bigger stones to try and make it sink. As you can see it was big laughs in our family, and if you’re clever, pollution can be used to entertain you! Odd thing was I loved playing that game but would get impatient and soon find a massive rock and turn into Bomber Command and sink the fker, much to the irritation of the other players, these days I’m much more accommodating and patient. Honest Guv!

That camp site was massive and my brother and I being little Herbert’s would sneak off and explore. I can still remember us hiding under someone’s caravan watching utterly green-eyed (as alienated kids) while these two groups of families had set up a three-a- aside tournament and all their relatives were watching in deck- chairs and cheering them on. It was really cool and genuinely impressive to watch people supporting each other and having a good time, each game seemed to have the power of those late 70s late afternoon/early evening Wimbledon semi-finals; everyone giving it all and fighting to the end. Dang, I wanted to get up and play. I can’t tell what I had to eat last week, but can still remember the long-haired flash- harry kids name who dominated the tournament. This was before 1977 so the Gunners weren’t quite yet in my life in those days. But football was.

Another time I came into contact with football on holiday was on the Gower. A Jujitsu club of Asian lads had come down from Birmingham and they would run in circuits around the caravan field as part of their training, often going past ours. Slowly we got to know these two brothers that were roughly the same age and we started having a kick around with them then got grafted in the Jujitsu boys makeshift-teams.

My bruv and I really clicked with them, and for a week or so we were all best friends, young kids, no agendas, strangers, yet united by friendship in football. We did some training with them, and also joined in and ran around the Caravan park as they did endless circuits and played in some more matches as the summer nights were long. 

Then they left and we never saw them again. I can still see their faces even though I’ve forgotten their names and yet can still remember some of the things we talked about. I’ve often wondered how life treated them. Odd isn’t it that through football (and other sports) you can strike up friendships very quickly? Now I’m starting to sound like the Grandfather in Jon Boorman’s film ‘Hope and Glory’ when he’s utterly assholed and lists off all those he knew as a youngster that were now old or dead. But he was sincere, and so am I.

There was one school in our area that I played against and they had burnt down their art department the week before, so you can imagine that school had a reputation. We lined up and the opposite kid in front of me on the right wing called me a c*nt then ran his studs down my leg. Spiffing. Nice to meet you too. I was used to sports injuries by then, some tool thought I was mouthing it off at him( I wasn’t) and he spiked me (more like lacerated, I still have a massive 6″x1″ scar on my leg) at an athletics meeting, and being in the good old days he avoided any kind of punishment. Weird thing was I didn’t go off in some injured sulk but still did the 400m relay with chopped up leg in tow. He was a pill- head and was totally blocked, not much of an excuse though.

I also busted my collar bone playing rugby, trouble was I tried to carry on (it broke after getting in a three-part sandwich from which I emerged effing and blinding all dazed and confused and not giving a crêpe about what any teacher thought, such was the utter agony) and then like a tool I carried on, and tackled this guy and got up looking a bit peaky and said “sorry I’ve got to go off”. I didn’t like egg chasing too much though and after that it was the end of my career as I knew the old collar bone would just snap again. Rugby was a weird one, I played full back and was pretty fast (by 12 summers I could get under 12 seconds in the 100m and for a skinny shrimp is wasn’t bad) so I just used to run with the ball. “run Forest run!”. Scrums weren’t mine, there was a big kid kid at my school called smelly Smith. Poor bastard, he was actually a good bloke, but no-one wanted to get in behind him in the scrum as his nomenclature did him justice.

Of course (like you) I have millions of stories playing football: I recall about fifteen of us up the park all smoking cigs aged about 11 and playing football at the same time (someone shouted out “football with fags!” and we all sparked up-Woodbines or something horrible like that, but pissing ourselves laughing while we did it). But our commitment to football meant playing before school, at break, lunchtime, after school, if there was no ball, then with stones, kick arounds in the almost dark up the affo (the athletic ground), trying to avoid the creepy jimmy bastards who lurked in the park down by the swings. House school matches (we had a Rolls- Royce of a team), school matches(once in a blizzard, I was so cold I just walked home in my boots as I couldn’t get them off) and often on half frozen pitches, half quagmire, half permafrost but also playing in some really exciting games where other team wanted to turn you into Hackfleisch afterwards for beating them. Playing in the boiling summers heat and feeling knackered and sloth-like but still carrying on…

I didn’t ever win a final, played in some, but didn’t win any. I did score some goals that made golden memories(including scoring a goal that won a league) and often I was made captain, but was too shy once the title was conferred on me,( Japan: Ghosts), would often clam up and really I was a better supporter (pseudo-captain) helping as a team player more than leading people up the garden path. Plus often there were sensitive psycho’s in our team, they didn’t like being barked at, and also I was moving away from wanting to play football, it was done, I knew I could achieve no more , I hated the last team I was in as it was too divided and half the team couldn’t be bovverd. Sometimes I would play those games over in my head, the pure ecstasy of smashing that ball in the back of the net…losing and being close to tears, being severely anxious before the games, and sometimes hating every second of it. I supposed its daft as a brush to think like that but even so some of those games would make a great yarn. 

I played for several outfits at club level, one was really full of talent and sophisticated and one lad went professional and others that were just as skilful, sadly didn’t. Some became a successes, some failures (whatever that actually means) and some tragically killed themselves, others OD’d. Some found heavens and some found hells; kids, cats, dogs and divorces. Many of the places where we played have now been built over for housing and the worlds turned enough that none of those old memory- ghosts haunt anymore.

As the years fall away like autumns leaves, many of those connections come undone, and even names get lost in the tackles of time but somehow, the faces of memories don’t, and for that I’m grateful. Places like PA are a still a shed for a natter and place to potentially work things out, even if there isn’t a black and white answer.

Everyone needs a shed for a pillow?

This summer I contacted some old friends from my days working in Leeds (Karen’s a LUFC fan and Jon’s a YC fan, and yes he was at that match!) and I was blessed to swap some long emails with Karen and she was telling me about her dad who was a miner and detailed his experiences underground but also she had this to say, which really touched me:

“before I stop talking about dad, I will tell you one over thing that you will appreciate. When he was young he set up a football club called Dominoes, made up of lads who were not judged to be good enough for other locals teams that were part of the local leagues etc-Fitzwilliam Boys etc. He ran it for years, mum washed their kits and brought them half-time refreshments, and they very, very rarely won a game(not sure if they did win anything actually)but I know some of the people who played and they always say it was the best team to play for and that they had a great time”.

Sometimes just to be a part of something is so important in life, some people ridicule the idea of inclusivity but its one of the most important ideas we have as humans. But unsung heroes like Karen’s mum and dad, doing all that for those rejected lads, makes me well up thinking about how kind-hearted and decent they were. Everyone needs a chance.

Leicester? I know zilch all about them, I didn’t mind them too much back at the Filbert Street days with that low stand behind the left hand goal ( as the camera looked), but since they moved I have no relationship with them at all. I’m sure its all very insulting to them and means psychologically that I should be excluded for not being as accommodating as some hippy from Woodstock and that I’ll never work for the BBC. But that’s the way it goes.

They seem to want to be rivals with us, and got pretty irritating when it came to the end of the season some years back and they were taunting us about not qualifying for the champions league and the Spuds were ‘having a laugh etc’. Soporific guy. Soporific.

I can’t even bore you to tears with some kind of nostalgic guff where I supported them in a Cup final. Because I didn’t. I won’t.

Historically head to head we are W 72  D 45  L 33. Our first game was back in 1895 and we lost 3-1. They were called Leicester Fosse in those days , we were the boys from Woolwich and it was a 2nd division affair. Our last game with them was in Feb 2023 and we won 1-0. Their historical silverware haul is 1 FAC, 1 PL and 1 LC. At the time of writing this( 21.9.24) they lie in 15th.

Manager Steve Cooper’s overall win rate is 47.60%, his Leicester stats I’m not putting up as he’s a brand- new manager. Veteran Jamie Vardy is still their club captain the man that said that he wasn’t interested in Wenger’s offer to come to the Arsenal as ‘nothings happening there’. Well nothing doesn’t exist son. And you were wrong.

Well that’s it, lots of bits and pieces that I’m sure have made you check into a sanatorium to save your minds. I’ll be in the bed next to you also getting treatment.

Even so, here’s to a great game for us and lucky horses! 

COYG and keep on keepin’ on!

Mills

Hello! I hope you’re doing well, that you’ve had your fill of the international week(s) and are ready for club football again? Sunday, September 15th (at 2.00pm western European time) sees the mighty Cannon hauled down the Seven Sisters road for the first of our two run-ins of the 2024/5 season with our best mates from the Tottenham Marshes and so like Jimmy Smith, we find ourselves back at the Chicken Shack!

Its quite an daunting task to write about such a big game; the years of history between us, the classic matches, classic goals, miserable defeats, winning the league there (twice), Rocky’s goal in that semi, and the tension during the game that seldom lets off until our Guns have blasted in enough goals to ensure that we can wipe the sweat off of our brows…

 Its one of those fixtures that if we lose, it sits with you, niggling and irritating, coughing like nanny goats for a long time afterwards. To be honest is there anything anyone can say about such a fixture without falling into some well trodden clichéd circuitous path? Perhaps the search for the new doesn’t lead us to anything new, so forgive me for not coming up with something utterly original (if that even possible)…

At the heart of this fixture is no love lost, its a game of entrenched prejudice, of fear and hatred and of desperation to be superior, but it really is a deep well of both pride and prejudice. By prejudice I mean: “an unfavourable opinions based on; suspicion, dislike, intolerance and inflexible generalisations (fear)” etc.

This is something that always worried me a lot. Of course all humans have prejudice in them in some form or other, from the utterly innocuous to the malignant, but this is all rooted in flux and depends on how we control our reactions and emotions as to where we find ourselves on this spectrum as it bubbles up in frothing fears. Luckily(!) I didn’t grown up in a malignant family, but there were other prejudice’s, most of which I rebelled against but developed others for myself. But its tough to have a deep-seated dislike for Tottenham; its irrational, I mean what have they done to me? Winning? Existing? Duh! That’s the object of the game and the competition as a whole, as I’ve rattled on and on about in the past, many sides I don’t begrudge them wins against us at all, but with Them its something else.

My first derby game was at Highbury in the 80/81 season, fighting kept breaking all over the stadium, and being a little a kid I was really, really scared. Grown men having pitch battles (armed with various tools and missiles), and anyone could observe the endless stream of humans being led away on gurneys or being held up under-arm whilst being led to a safer place to receive medical aid. I nearly started bawling watching the St.Johns ambulance men helping. Why? Because I’m a fkn kitty. But also because the StJa are the sort of organisation that ‘cool/hard’ people laugh at and ridicule, and yet as life shows us time and time again, compassion and kindness is needed in times of distress etc. It takes real strength of mind to show goodwill towards others, let alone people who’ve brought physical ill-health upon themselves? Much of the experiences I witnessed that day, like a lot of human life seems to be such a waste of time and energy(I’m part of this too), but for some reason or other in our minds, certain aspects get certain priories?

Meanwhile back at Highbury: some Spudney (A.J Ayer?) gave me a bollocking as we sat down to resume our seats after HT, in his expansive and aggressive rant he explained to me how Tottenham were going to win and that I should take my seat and observe. Thanks. I was just a kid. Not even a teenager. Of course I’ve soaked up much, much worse verbal and physical abuse in life ( I’m going to write about some of those experiences in another preview), but there was something that struck me at how utterly pathetic that bloke was, bollocking a kid. He didn’t see me, he saw only that which he thought I represented. But what do I/did I represent? All life is changing, a stream, but not an isolated stream but the vast expanse of all the universe creating and destroying; it isn’t ‘out there’ we are it, part of it. What do we represent as a baby, as a kid, as a teenager, and through the stages of adulthood? Where is this unchanging representation located? It seems real, but its not really real? He couldn’t see me. He saw an enemy.

Anyway, back at Highbury, planet earth, David Price scored to make it 1-0 ( I don’t recall it though) but I do recall Franky Stapleton’s goal and magical it was.

I came away from the game with a fear, deep seated and deep rooted. Of course this was later compounded by being mates with loads of other Arsenal kids who hated Tottenham etc. Around that time my mum ran off with a Tottenham fan and the old man stirred that one up a bit in his insecurity, he didn’t need to do it and even then I thought it was unnecessary, but people get desperate and they say and do less than mature things than they might have wanted to.

So suddenly in my little life at a little age I found myself: full of both pride (for The Mighty Cannon) and prejudice (for Tottenham); irrational, full of fear and after all they are the enemy. Says who? And why? What happens to me if I don’t agree? This was all made worse by the fallow period Arsenal had entered into after 1980 and observing, green-eyed, the meadow of joy bloody Tottenham frolicked in. Grrr! As anyone who remembers that period, it was horrible, and stemming from jealousy comes a plethora of difficult thought processes. Oh brother!

Of course I’ve got friends who are Tottenham fans and with whom I’ve been long-term acquainted with, but there’s always that barrier. Its utterly pathetic yet its the same for them! No matter how sublime (their words) they found the first Wenger period, no matter how jealous the were of the period afterwards when we were matching Barcelona for pure skill and vision, we were still Arsenal. The Scum. Them. Something to loathe. The enemy. The Woolwich imposters. Something to enjoy hating.

The only way these sets of attitudes could be over come in unison would be some terrible catastrophe which affected both clubs. I hope that doesn’t happen, so it looks like we’re stuck with prejudice, for all its enormous, unwieldy will to win, its verbal and physical violence, its dance of the irrational tied up in perverted forms of logic. How strange that prejudice can also be a driving force in life to achieve that which people want? It doesn’t seem right, and surely there are other systems that can drive us to victory? 

I do recall once our old friend Gf60 saying that as much as he hated the Spuds he wouldn’t have it any other way, that he didn’t want them relegated, as playing them twice a year was always exciting and an important part of life as an Arsenal supporter. 

I mentioned it before on Shotta and George’s vlog, so apologies for the repetition, but I had a friend at school who had been in the Arsenal supporters club since he was three months old.  And he went to the Coop just after they had built a new stand( the game was sometime in 1983) and we got walloped 5-0. So on Monday at school we all asked him what it was like, expecting him to tell us how utterly horrible and miserable the experience was, but he just said, “it was magic”. He considered even whilst being humiliated at the Coop, to watch Arsenal was still an electrifying, privileged experience. I’m not sure many of the talking heads I waste my life watching would ever consider that? But it stuck with me, even stayed with me as a seed that might grow one day into something more decent than my prejudiced, puerile perspective.

Ok, enough of that crap, our overall record versus Them is: 87 wins, 55 draws and 67 losses. Ange Postecoglou win rate is 53.3%, but it was higher at Celtic (around 73%) and he got those Bhoys playing extremely well and fished out some great talent from pools upon which the gazing eye of transfer originality had neglected to spy, most of whom have now left Celtic Park. In many respects we were blessed to face Brighton without Matt O’Reily.

 Postecoglou won the London manager of the year award last time around, perhaps they felt sorry for the Spuds not ever winning much? I’m sure St. Totteringham would agree.

Well that’s it, lots of bits and pieces of jackasnorey that you already knew. Even so, here’s to a great game for us and lucky horses! 

COYG and keep on keepin’ on!

Mills

Hello! How are you? Well we’ve hit the first of our ‘international breaks’ and we are starting see the back of the dog days of August and head on into the season of mists and fruitful mellowness (or where I am, still fkn boiling and humid) I wondered how do you feel about our first three games as we lull our selves into a two-week, sleepy, sloe- black, slow- black, sojourning sleep (pronounced: ‘wall-climbing tedium’)?

 I think, having examined the Gunner organism under our collective analytical microscopes we could spy all sorts of interesting things that happened: elements that went wrong, elements that went right and a whole pool of potential possibilities that we might see playing out in the next month or so? Luckily (our old friend lucks popped in to say hello already!) I had a totally horrible afternoon in the scorching sun with some disturbing people that took away the pain of the Rice red card and all its frustrations. I’m not sure which was worse really…

Of course we might feel a lack of optimism and positivity in view of our next couple of games as a result of the card, but despite us being at the dreaded noisy Coop, I feel the Cannon will still prove its self mightier and more capable than a Chicken. But feelings are unreliable, or at least mine are. As we all know, the derbies can throw up all sorts of results and are of no indication to form and fashion in any season.

I do feel a bit nervy about The Oil City game, but after our manoeuvres down the Seven Sisters road we will know a tiny bit more about how the muzzle astragals are faring up and whether our powders dry or not. Plus I also think it will be a game we will want to rise up to…

Perhaps it would have been nicer to have played City a bit further down the line, but nice and all things nicey aren’t on the Premier League agenda. 

Looking even further ahead (teams ahoy!), we have coming into sight: And Leicester and the Sotonists. and then Bournefootandmouth and then a showdown with our old chums, Liverpool. So hopefully by the time we take on the Scousers we shall be full of flow and full sail and will have (hopefully) navigated not landing on any rocks or sandbanks.

How did you feel Timber! looked? It was a tough break he had last year a having been bought and then chopped down by injury for most of the season. In many ways he is like having a new signing! Seemed like he wanted to do well, but once or twice wasn’t quite part of the whole subconscious Arsenal collectiveness (woo)?

New star Calafiori, what did you think of his contributions? Looks like he wants to be very much part of the action and looked excited to be a Gunner? Obviously its going to be interesting to see Sterling come in and whether he can do the business, but I hope it won’t affect Kai too much, and when Merino starts to really get some game time it will potentially start to raise everyone’s midfield game, and I’m all for that as I’m sure you are. Its a shame we won’t see him against the Slickers, unless a special kind of super glue has been invented that can heal his shoulder super quick. That guy gives me a good feeling; you?

 With Sterling’s arrival perhaps Jesus will want to get sharper, perhaps more hungry, which really would be great to see. Tomi’s sadly going to be out for a while longer though. With the Bolton League Cup game in the middle of the month we might see some fresh faces coming up and away from the numbers, so plenty of plenty.

I hope Martinelli can start to work on his final touch, I still like his driving runs, but his finally passes and crosses have sometimes been a bit wayward. But confidence is a fickle thing, what with 60,00 plus home and awayers getting on your back or the eight million streams of consciousness judging you in hindsight, like this one, hopefully he can get his self confidence back to better levels soon. 

Martin Ø looked quicker than quick and wanted to get the ball moving in the right directions, I think we would all love to see the human dynamo grab a few more goals though? I think Gabriel and Saliba! will want to do better after the confusion defending against Brighton, but seeing how they whole back line was interacting against Villa, I’m sure they will stay sure and steadfast.

So it wasn’t the ten out of ten we all wanted, but it was a pretty reasonable start, and that’s better than having to chase everyone three games down. Tell me what you think, I’m sure your insights are more valid than mine, who shone and who needs a tonic? How does September look to you? Feeling any excitement for the up-coming Champions League games?

Well rather than my usual snore bore, I hope it lulled you into some kind of better dream-time, like thoughts of not wasting anymore time reading this article.

Take care of yourselves, and see you back at the showdown with the Spuds.

COYG and keep on keepin on!

Mills

Well hello everyone, what a kerfuffle eh?

Let’s get right to it then, what a load of old officiating bollocks that was. Normally when I see a bad decision I get mad, then I get over it, but this one? Oh no, the more I see the incident the more my blood pressure rises. It can’t be in the spirt of the game to give a 2nd yellow card for that. The Brighton player carried the ball yards from where the free kick should have been being taken, then rolled the ball at Rice, Declan felt the ball hit the back of his leg, looked at it and touched it away. He was then instantly and unceremoniously booted really hard to the leg. Now, the Brighton player couldn’t have been trying to take a quick free kick because the ball was moving, as well as it being in the wrong spot. That the Referee rewarded his housery by rewarding him and his team is stupidity of the first order.

Twitter is awash with indignant Arsenal fans claiming corruption, and incidents like this are enough to make me go and stand alongside the baying mob nodding and jeering with them. The whole idea of that Rice was time wasting is ridiculous and preposterous.

This is supposed to be a match report, but truthfully, that incident was the match. I raises question about fairness, corruption and makes me wonder if spending the emotional energy of supporting is even worthwhile.

Ok, ok, ok, for the first 50 minutes we were the better team, we had scored a really good goal where Saka and Havertz had combined wonderfully and it was looking like a routine home win. We weren’t spectacular or dynamic, but we were good enough.

I suppose, a draw was therefore a good result in the end, because Brighton are one of the last teams you want to be playing with a man down for some 40 odd minutes. So I’ll leave it at that without even mentioning the bad defending that lead to is conceding an equaliser because that moment was surrounded by some stoic performances by the entire team.

I’ll tell you what though, I can’t imagine how Mikel must be feeling, given what he puts into trying to get results, compared to just a fan like me, and I feel crap.

Oh, and to top it all, we will now have Rice missing when we play next, and that’s Spurs. Grrrrr.

Pedantic George

Arsenal fc  v  Brighton and Hove Albion

Hello! Hope you’ve had a good week. Saturday the 31st of August at 12.30 pm (western European time) sees the mighty Cannon host a lunch-time visit from south coasters Brighton and Hove Albion at our shiny shed for a good ol’ kick around and target practise.

Being a clichéd ridden hack, here I will slide in and make honorable mentions of Brighton rock, Brighton rock the film, Mods and Rockers and Rocky Balboa, who know doubt (are you sure?) is a Seaweed fan, no not of larva bread but the Seagulls, the old Chekovs themselves, etc etc etc. 

Being of old timey fartiness, I still recall the Seaweed when they were at their old Hovel, The Goldstone Ground (now, like the rest of  the world, a retail park) and the echoing, rallying cries of: “he shot, he scored, his name is Peter Ward, Peter Ward” who was a super star for them. Heck, I can even remember PW being of lethal stats on the Top Trump cards. I’m not sure how many people (outside of the B Hove) remember him,  I mean do they even make Top Trumps anymore? Perhaps just a different kind, mostly with orange livery? Perhaps its as Debbie Reynolds daughter Carrie Fisher once said, “fame is obscurity waiting”?

“whose Debbie Reynolds, is she sometimes on AFTV?”

“yes, she is”

First time saw the Arsenal beat B&HA was in the fourth round of the FAC back on our run to the final back in the 1979/80 season, and still have the programme, although its probably being slowly being devoured by silverfish in the darkness of our cellar. The Arsenal played twenty seven cup games (in all competitions) that season and came away empty handed. It was the end of that short era. That’s football! And it hurts.

79/80 was still a brilliant season though, yet somehow I’m still haunted by the Valencia CWC final. I wondered if you have any games that stay as a very present ghost or even poltergeist? Game fifty? Our only European cup final? Your first match? The time you ran naked onto the pitch at Highbury and spent the rest of the game in the cells under the Clock End?

I still have fond memories of backing underdog Brighton in the 1983 cup final, despite having been relegated they took on the team from Old Toilet and gave a truly valiant performance in a classic final. Gordon Smith put Brighton ahead, ex Gunner Franky Stapleton equalised,  Butch Wilkins put ManUre ahead with one of the great FA Cup final goals, but Gary Stevens (motm) made things all square around fifteen minutes later. In the last minute of extra time Michael Robinson (gone way too early) was played through by Jimmy Case and passed across to Gordon Smith, who was unmarked on the right just outside the 6 yard box and surely was set to score and win the cup final for Brighton but he somehow seemed to shoot more at Gary Bailey who of course, made the save, and that was it. In them thar days there were still replays and Brighton got thrashed 4-0 in it. But what a game the first match was. 

Our all time historical record against Brighton stands to this day: twelve wins, four draws and eight losses and thirty eight goals scored and twenty four goals conceded. 

Brighton this season have started brightly and gave Everton a sound beating, and then winning 2-1 against ManUre (Mr Welbeck being amongst the Brighton goalscorers). Whilst on Tuesday they scored four against Crawley in the League Cup. So this is no team to laugh at, well perhaps behind their backs?

Fabian Hürzeler had a good record at the cult team St Pauli (65.45% win ratio) but life time career is around 47.17%. Even though Brighton fell to 11th last season they didn’t mind beating us at the Emirates, 0-3, obviously that was under de Zerbi, so whose knows how this one will play out, and that’s what makes football exciting… its especially exciting when you win five-nil.

Well that’s it, lots of bits and pieces of more snore that you already knew or perhaps aren’t too interested in. Even so, here’s to a great game for us and lucky horses! 

COYG and keep on keepin’ on!

Mills

Hello Positives.

I have no idea how I can write a blog that makes that dull as dishwater game interesting. So excuse me if I rely on cliches to sound like an expert from a real blog.

Well it was a game of two halves, the first being as dull as dishwater and the second as boring as listening to Piers Morgan talking about himself. They say it’s a good team that can win when not at their best, Let’s hope that’s true eh?

Three points is three points, any away win is a good win, they stopped us playing, who cares, we won?

I feel our man of the match was Watkins, he somehow missed two open goals, he’s an Arsenal fan, if I was a Villa fan I’d be asking questions , or at very least checking the far east betting markets.

To be fair, we perked up a little in the second half when Saka, White and Martin remembered how to link up and move the ball a bit faster. As simple as it sounds, the game changed when Trossard came on for Martinelli, who had been as under par as Tiger Woods has been since his car accident. Surely Trossard has to start next time out?

Declan Rice appears to be suffering a hangover from hell following the Euros, and he’s not being helped by Partey moving the ball with the speed of a sedated sloth.

I recorded the game and as a rule I would watch it again before writing the review, but I assure you, I’ll not be doing that, once was bad enough.

Now, on the bright side, that’s 6 points from the opening two games and no injuries. What has gone is gone and done is done. We will have to play much better than that going forwards and I’m convinced we will. Maybe start Trossard instead of Martinelli, sign the new Mikel to play left centre-mid, put Rice at the 6 he was bought to play and take off like a team of fast things going down hill with a wind behind them? Hope springs eternal. We’ll see.

Pedantic George.