Isn’t it amazing? Just as West Ham are enjoying one of their highest positions in the league for some time, the natives are restless. It seems they aren’t enjoying their season even though their elevated position would expect a celebration and mini wave every time they take the field. So what is it that has upset the Irons faithful so much? Is it their co-chairman looking like a couple of porn stars? Is it their move to a plastic stadium they just won’t fill?  Or is it their manager is so ugly he makes Ian Dowie look like a model on a Nivea advert?

Actually their grumblings, annoyance and frustration is about the style of football they play well who’d have thought it. Surely after the failings of the pretty football of Zola, relegation and a manager dragging them out of a hard division, that consolidation and flirtation with Europe would be an absolute joy, but no. The reason is, apart from the odd spell, their football is shit. Fat Sam is and will always be a practical manager and no matter how hard he tries he will never be able to achieve the prize all long term fans really want and that’s to enjoy the beautiful game.

While the things that glitter may mask the football fans goal for a while and it will certainly appease the plastic fan, the true aspiration for the true fan is the pure joy of football being played well. It is for this reason that the fat Sam’s of the footballing world will never stay in a job long term no matter how well they do. Remember the messiah from the potteries who could do no wrong, even when he tried repeating history and turned football into rugby, you would of thought the troglodytes would of loved him forever but no, even they got bored of him and his dire displays and asked him to leave while they went in search of the ball and the grass staying in closer proximity.

On the other side of the coin an, allegedly, stagnating Crewe held onto their manager for 467 years (actually only 24 but it seemed like it), which by the way is record in the lower divisions. Dario Gradi youth development and beautiful style meant the fans had identity and entertainment and they loved it. They never won the champions league or even the F.A. cup under his tenure but none of their fans would trade him for the practical manager whose face resembles my left bollock.

So where does this involve ARSENAL? Well after learning kammy was interviewing Maureen on sky Sunday morning thingy I immediately switched off, knowing he was going to whinge on about how the refs had it in for him and how his poor little team had never committed a fowl in their lives, I really couldn’t watch the sycophant. However sometime later I heard Maureen had another dig at Arsene. Now I know he never misses an opportunity to have a dig but this was different, knowing the problems Arsene has had with refs in the past Maureen might even be seeking him as an ally. This got me thinking what is his problem with Arsene? I know he has a napoleon complex, I know he will shag his own grandmother if gets him a trophy, I know he doesn’t like Arsene but all this was irrelevant in the context of the programme.

Well Once again like Fat Sam, Pullis and all the other “make the most of what you’ve got” mangers, no matter what riches and facilities put at Maureen’s disposal he cannot match Arsene flair, understanding of the beautiful game and production of such wonderful football. The Coach driver absolutely hates Arsene for this for his egotistical mountain is always in the shade and when he looks up he can only see Arsene skiing with grace and finesse around the style peaks. When he tries to close his eyes at night and dreams about his trophy’s that little voice inside his little head says “yeah but Arsene always produces better football than you”. When you think about all his sleepless nights you can understand his fixation.

Reasons to be cheerful 1,2,3.

arse_or_brain (seebs)

Morning Positivistas from a greyish Monday in Norfolk.

I take your mood, like mine, will be a little more elevated this morning going into the week, buoyed by three points taken at the Ems, earned in fact through a combination of some resolute organised defending and two instances of hitting the back of the net when the half opportunity presented itself.

The media microscope and cameras were on Olivier but my eye was taken very much to our back five who I thought played a blinder.

Kosc was quite obviously in charge, directing, pointing, shouting and taking a necessary card. Never put a foot wrong all afternoon in spite of Everton’s front men trying to run straight and hard at us. Gibbs and Hector did their defensive jobs quietly, thoroughly, no fuss and very few errors. Ospina pulled off a couple of good stops and a timely intervention. Who says ‘keepers cannot be clever footballers too?

Our new centre back made his first PL start. Social media was its usual demented self, as Gabriel first made an error by misjudging the bounce, then a skewed header, at which point he had been written off as a worse signing than Mikel Silvestre. Then in the 37^th minute had performed a perfect retrieving tackle on Lukaku which may have turned the game. After that Gabriel had been anointed as the answer to all our previous defensive wobbles and poor old Per might as well pack his lederhosen.

Anyway to brighten your morning have one last look, before the PL insist it is taken down;

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihUPjkmE0A0

After those few opening flutters I thought our defenders played better and better as the game went on. Everton pressed and I was impressed with the quality of the crossing from their young Garbutt, but for all the pressing and puff at no time did I think we would crack and concede. Once we were ahead, the game was won.

Young Francis Coquelin may have a sore nose this morning but he has done himself no harm in gilding his reputation in the eyes of supporters (well this supporter anyway) for his willingness to battle on with a broken nose. There is talk of surgery which may rob us of him for at least the midweek game. My recollection of broken noses is however the insertion and deft twisting of steel rods to refashion the nasal sculpture which, although it will make his eyes water, should have him back on Wednesday.  And he can wear a mask which, in my opinion, is an accoutrement that every young footballer should aspire to.  The Telegraph captured the original coming together nicely.

I was not expecting a classic game, but a difficult contest against a side who came into the game on the back of a Euro win, but a poor domestic record. Just one win in twelve PL matches Mr Martinez is relegation form, and you know it. Everton would have been delighted with a point, even that though was never a likely outcome. It was not a sparkling performance from us, but intelligent, measured football. The sort of performance on which a successful run-in can be securely founded.

While Roberto may therefore be justifiably feeling a little sweaty at the collar this morning, our form, since mid December, is the best in the PL bar none. I was a bit surprised to see we had won 28 points from a possible 36. I had not realised we had been quite so effective. Amazing what happens when we have most (although not all) players fit and firing. If we kept that up over a season we would have 89 points.

Makes you think doesn’t it?

Enjoy yer week!!

I suppose I should have sensed the risk as I arrived far too early at the Ems for the game with the stadium empty but for the corner of Monaco fans hooting and hollering, decked out in white and red plastic sheets and evidently determined to enjoy their last 16 tie despite arriving as under-dogs.

I suppose I should have picked up the scent, despite a bright opening moment from Danny, we struggled to make any impression on the solid phalanx of Monegasque defenders with its midfield shield for the next 35 minutes. Our passing game not quite “right”, the ball when delivered a little to slow, a little behind, a little too high etc. You saw it, you know. Santi buzzed, Danny ran, Ozil tweaked but it never opened the defence. The keeper never had so much to scramble after the ball,  let alone a save to make.

Never mind I said to myself, they have come for the draw, their attacking efforts are sparse and delivered with little conviction. One man pushed up, two men at most. I understand, I forgive them, I can be generous. We will press and press and press, and a crack will appear. We had control, we had the players and the form. When our short passing clicked and they tired it would be our night.

And then on 38 minutes, out of nothing save for a creditably speculative shot and a lack of closing down, a slight but decisive deflection and the keeper distracted, the whole evening turned.

It did not turn in the sense that buoyed by their goal the visitors suddenly moved on to the front foot and delivered a display of scintillating football. No, Monaco played throughout the 90 minutes as they did from the first minute, organised and intelligent. Rather like their fans nothing spectacular, nothing we have not seen before.

Now after the goal went in like me I am sure you thought, “bugger” that was bad luck but with a few minutes to half time and a full second half to go plenty of time and quality on the field and on the bench to put that setback behind us, and set ourselves up for the second leg on a firm foundation. We have special players, a rabbit will be flourished.

What had changed, what had turned was our attitude to the game. From a patient approach, albeit one in which the gears were not quite meshing, we lost our composure. We lost, as Steww referred to yesterday, perhaps our Grace. I sensed that players were looking at one another saying “ what now” ? We took no confidence from the fact that to that point at 38 minutes we had controlled the ball and pressed the opposition.

Half time came and went, Olivier skied one over the bar just before the break, then another as the second half opened which I think marked another watershed in the game. The admirable core  that runs through  our game, of being willing and able to retain the ball, to pass accurately, to try to tease out an opening was replaced by an increasingly frantic and ever quickening assault on the Monaco goal.

Chances were created and absolutely spurned. A header from six yards out shot off at right angles to the goal. I have no idea how they looked on TV but from the Clock End the two rebounds off the keeper which looked entirely convertible but ended in both cases somewhere about 27 rows back in the lower tier were excruciating. I am not a man given to gesture but after the second I was out in the gangway on my knees. (Alright, I am a man given to gesture but it was so painful.)

And thereafter, for the next 43 minutes or so, calamity heaped upon misfortune. What we tried failed, players who normally are confident and creative looked bereft of ideas. Berby plunged a second dagger which turned a lack of composure to outright panic. Per and Kosc as twitchy as cats at the greyhound derby. Olivier departed, carried out on a metaphorical footballing stretcher.

And then, and then, and then the Ox dangled the lifeline of opportunity in the water, after 90 minutes of discomfort could it be an Anderlecht style revival could be open ? Even if not then to travel to Monaco at 2-1 down was a hill that could be conquered. Yes, Yes YES!

But no NO – not at all – not even that small worm of comfort on a night of frustration and ultimate disappointment. And on cue the Monaco fans kept up their racket to the final whistle and beyond. They may still be there. Good luck to them.

Two faint sparks of comfort to end on.

One, that Monaco players celebrated at the end in a way that showed they feel they have won the tie. The tie is not over.

Second, we travel with nothing to lose. We have done it before against Inter, we may do it again.

I suppose it is plain porridge this morning though.

Well, that was a disappointment wasn’t it? I don’t know about you but I didn’t sleep well last night. Ridiculous really how much of an emotional impact a reversal on a football pitch can inflict isn’t it?

If an uninvolved bystander such as myself is so crestfallen after the match (and contrary to what others might think I am deeply deeply fed up) one can readily apprehend the depths of despair to which the players must have sunk. That’s before we even consider the unenviable task facing the manager. Imagine the gut wrenching anguish Arsène must be feeling this morning and he, unlike us, cannot express it, cannot wallow  but instead must ignore his own pain and try to motivate his players, to instil the necessary belief without which they cannot hope to overturn the two goal deficit when they travel to Monaco on St Patrick’s day.

Many people underrated Monaco yesterday, at least I must assume so judging by the wildly optimistic scoreline predictions we saw being bandied about. The simple truth is that if you wanted to demonstrate the consummate away performance in a European tie you would be hard pressed to beat the men from the Principality and the way they went about their business last night. Before you shoot me down for that remark let me say that I am well aware that they rode their luck last night, not once but twice. The first time was when they got away with as blatant a handball as you will ever see go unpunished inside a penalty area and the second of course was when, entirely against the run of play, they fluked a goal with the aid of a horrible deflection. The point is, however, that many great victories come with a lucky break. How many double centuries have you witnessed where the batsman was dropped while still in single figures? The Spanish Armada, Waterloo the outcomes of both battles hinged largely upon the vagaries of the weather. What matters is how you use that good fortune, how you turn it to your advantage.

Last night Monaco turned it to their advantage in a ruthlessly efficient manner which you can only admire. Set up to defend and hit on the break it was vital for the visitors not to concede early on and the platform that the lucky goal gave them came at the perfect time. Up until that decisive moment Arsenal’s tactics had been perfect, closing down, cutting off their supply before they had a chance to mount a counter attack and keeping them pressed back. The penalty apart we came close on a couple of occasions but sadly it was not to be. Once they had the lead they simply needed to defend well and wait for us to come at them knowing that as the game went on we would have to attack in ever increasing numbers. When this inevitably happened they  knew gaps would appear in our rearguard which their fast direct counter attacking style could easily exploit. And that of course is just what they did. Superb defending at the team level with every man in his position stifling the quick inventive approach for which we are rightly famed but also at the individual level with so many well timed tackles and interceptions that I lost count of them.

Sometimes you simply have to doff your cap to the opposition and say well played. They got their lucky break, they made absolutely the best of it and now our squad has somehow to rise from the ashes of this setback and show its mettle. It is of course simple for me to sit here in rainy Somerset and say these things. So much harder for the people actually involved at the club. There are however some important facts to remember. We’ve overturned such deficits before. We’ve gone away in Europe where nobody gave us a prayer and got the result. We’ve overcome disappointment in cup ties to raise our game in the league plenty of times. Above all we have to face Everton on Sunday and every new game is an opportunity to wipe clean the stain of previous setbacks and get ourselves back into winning ways.

Wallow if you want to, that’s fine, without the despair there is no joy, it’s the emotional cycle through which all sports fans must go, but never lose hope and never lose faith in these players. They were handed a lesson yesterday, without question, but today is a new day and they must dust themselves off and get on with the job.

That’s enough omphaloskepsis for one morning – I’m already looking forward to Sunday.