A guest post by Seebs  @arse_or_brain

Apparently, according to many ARSENAL fans on twitter, our 3-0 win away at Villa was just a blip and we will soon be back to losing ways. Quite how despondent people can be after a good win to a team having only conceded one goal in a good start to their season amazes me and so I thought about what really is their logic.

In 2004 we won the league without losing a game, a considerable feat, the year after we won the F.A. cup and then in 2006 were unlucky to lose the final of the Champions’ League after having a player sent off at the start of the game and only conceding at the end of the game.

I believe it was around this time Arsene lost his mind and lost all football knowledge.

So 2007 until now we have been failures, the story goes, but how many fans and teams have bettered us and how many would switch places?

Well in that time we’ve won one cup, come close in the league a few times and been consistent in qualifying for the Champions’ League. So the only teams domestically that have done better than us are Chelski and the two Manc clubs. All three massively funded beyond our capability and so you would expect them to do better unless they were underperforming by a large margin, considering it cannot be us that has overachieved.

We have built and self-funded a new stadium. This has not been achieved by any other club in this time and so any arguments about how much money we have is largely dispelled as this handicap, along with the arrival of the sugar-daddies makes the spending argument largely irrelevant as whatever we forked out, the other clubs would still be able to find more.

In these failure years the likes of Alex Ferguson have said ARSENAL would have won the league if it wasn’t for injuries; so that blows the ‘tactics falling out Arsene’s head’ theory out of the window.  I’m pretty sure even the most ardent wobs would admit you can’t win the league without tactical knowledge. This is backed up by the great Johan Cruyff who thinks Arsene is a great tactician, although the critics do have Piers Morgan in their corner.

This brings us to those injuries. Again, Arsene’s fault apparently, as his training methods are to blame. Incidentally these are same methods that brought us the doubles and invincibles, although we still do well at the end of games and seasons, so fitness can’t be a problem, surely a more logical reason would be the style of play we use draws more fouls both punished and unpunished and a build-up of these leads to injuries. This is just an assumption of course but then no one knows the reason behind the larger than usual amount of injuries we suffer.

• So in summary only 3 clubs have bettered us in the failure years.
• All three clubs can outspend us on the pitch and behind the scenes
• We are still servicing a debt and the fund comparison with the other clubs makes the argument about our cash reserves irrelevant.
• Injuries have impacted on our success.
• All of the above makes the tactics argument a myth
• I haven’t mentioned we consistently played the best football in the league

So what are people groaning about? Well could we have achieved better in the last few years?  Maybe.

Could we have bought better?  Maybe.

Could we have set up better in some games and even made better subs and tactical switches? Maybe.

But all those are assumptions and even if they were correct, would that make our manager a lunatic or our club a joke?

Quite clearly not.

But it does call into question the metal astuteness of anyone who suggests this is the case.

Great, so I’m a genius again …

I watched the game on a Spanish stream. All I could make out were the players’ names.  This was quite an eye opener.  I had to make my own mind up how we were playing. It was up to me to see how the team was set up and who was playing where, let alone who was having a good game. It was in fact a very good way to watch the game. If Stew Black is reading this, you were right all along mate.

The first 25 minutes or so seemed pretty even to me, although the hosts had the best chance with a close range effort, excellently saved by our young keeper.

Then in five minutes Arsenal fired a three-goal broadside and the Villa were sunk.

The contest was over. We dominated the remainder of the half. After the break the hosts seemed happy to take a football lesson as long as it didn’t turn into a spanking. And we seemed happy to give it and coast to the final whistle.

It was the most comfortable half of football I’ve ever seen. Lovely jubbly.

The team appeared to set up with Ramsey sitting deeper to help Mikel. A lot of the time he was behind the skipper. That allowed Mesut to be more forward thinking.

Here though is Ozil’s heat map:

Looks familiar?

Now, that looks dangerously like his every other heat map.  So don’t tell me he was playing in the hole behind Welbeck as a traditional number 10.

He played well because he played well. Perhaps the security of Aaron and Mikel helped him, or perhaps he just played better. Who knows?

I felt Aaron had another sub-par performance.  Is it because he is being played out of position? No, because he isn’t.  He is just off form a little.  He is not a bad player or anything other than a great player having a dip in form.

Just as Mesut was!

Anyway, that’s what I saw. It’s up to you to tell me if I am right or wrong.

Go on then …

You can become a part of George’s own heatmap on Twitter @Blackburngeorge

A guest post from Andrew @anicoll5

Good morning Fellow Positivistas from a grey East Anglia morning with Autumn firmly camped across the land.

By land and sea, by air and digital pulse, our thoughts turn to Villa Park today. Even with the Holte End spoiled by seating, still a proper football ground full of long-suffering locals. We’ve not lost a PL game at the stadium this century, eight wins and seven draws, and even the bookies have us on very short money to win at 5-6 with Villa at an enticing 4 to 1. If I gambled I might be tempted to lob a shilling on the home side, disloyal though that would be. Surely you say “the points are in the bank?”

An oddity today as we kick off the game of association football at 3 p.m. on a Saturday afternoon!  It is the ‘traditional’ time and day for the contest based no doubt on an 1872 FA agreement among fishmongers and hat makers in Sheffield. I admit as we move into Autumn and Winter there is something comforting about football in its proper place on a Saturday afternoon. Mellow fruitfulness.

So unusual was the Saturday at 3 p.m. kick-off however that I looked up the last time we avoided being rescheduled for the convenience of the global TV dollar and saw it was the game at the Britannia on the 1^st March this year. By complete coincidence no doubt, the man with the whistle that grim day in the Potteries, referee Mike Jones, is on duty a Villa Park today.

It is lucky I am not a man given to heeding signs or portents.

On to the game however. The Villa riding high and I have no doubt their fans as surprised as everyone else that Lambert has managed to manoeuvre what is still a fairly young and inexperienced team to ten points from four games and a spot just behind Chelsea in the table.

Toward the end of last season Villa were shocking and getting worse so, with Benteke a long term crock, and without any noticeable recruitment beyond the much derided Phil Senderos, it is difficult to explain the turnaround. (Personally always liked Phil as I do any player prepared to put his head in where the boots fly, but I accept he had his limits). They don’t score much but have a good defensive record, three in four clean sheets in PL games.

The media seem to ascribe Villa’s improvement to the arrival of Roy Maurice Keane and the papers have had a few puff pieces this week about the young Villa players “inspired” “terrified” “in total awe of” the Irishman. Hmmmmm. The fist waving, eye rolling and the glaring might work for a little while with the kids Roy, but football managing is a little bit more complicated than that, as you know from your time with Ipswich and Sunlun. No doubt Keane’s presence has put the wind up Lambert a treat though but not a word of that anywhere.

For ourselves, as we touched on yesterday, I expect a few changes in the side and across midfield with Jack and Aaron rested, perhaps Sanchez too and the Ox. Tomas and Santi coming in.  I see the changes as mixture of fatigue from some hard games over a short period and the fact that if you have a large squad you use it.

I do not anticipate a ‘hangover’ after our defeat in Dortmund and a night of some disappointing performances.  I do however anticipate a difficult contest.  A narrow victory and a solid performance would do very nicely.

Talk to you later.

I love watching a good game of football, and thats exactly what The Arsenal and Manchester City(the league champions by the way) served up to us yesterday.

Am I disappointed we didn’t win ? Yes, I always am.

Am I disappointed with our performance? Hell no, I thought we were fantastic.

I really don’t understand how people can suck the joy out of the game. It’s beyond pathetic the way fans ignore the good things and focus on the negatives. Why watch the game if you don’t appreciate the aesthetics of it. Just read the result in the morning paper if the result is all that matters.

Completely against the run of quite superb play we went a goal down. Flamini was at fault and they scored. But don’t all goals come from mistakes? Yes it was a poor goal to concede, but what went before was not instantly erased.

We then scored two wonderful goals and perhaps should have gone on to win. Sadly we let in another poor goal which if not for  Wojciech Szezesny’s supreme athleticism in getting a hand to it, Flamini would have nodded clear. A bit of bad luck on top of a bit of bad defending and it was all square.

We then rode our luck for a short spell and in the end I was happy with the point.

Hey, we are unbeaten and looking better, much better, much much better.

Plenty to be optimistic about if you ask me.

Jack was quite simply outstanding.

Alexis is looking every inch the player we hoped he would be.

Danny looks a fit.

Some, like Ozil and Aaron, are not up to their usual ridiculously high standards but I’m sure it is just a matter of time.

I loved the way we played yesterday. How could I not?

Right. below is a bonus from @anicoll5 with his recollection of the fixture some 50 years ago

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My heart hoped for the home win, and on the balance of play it could have been. Citeh are however a wily serpent, slithering and striking around the defensive shield and it was not to be.

My head, to its credit, had settled for the draw. As I left the house in the morning, trotted after Steve towards the stadium and finally settled in my seat at 12.40 it was certain the points were to be shared.

How !?! You cry – such certainty of a draw, such a limit of ambition, so little of the Positivistas joie de vivre – it cannot be.

Well it was the cycle of history turning my friends. Fifty years ago was my first game at Highbury ( I know I have bored you with this theme before but stay with me a little longer).

The sun on that day shone in 64, it shone as bright yesterday. I sat on the North Bank, actually on the terracing but as I was by the fence at the back and the ground was half empty it was easy to see the action. It was a time of rosettes and rattles, and dark clothing, men wore dark clothing. I sat yesterday in the North Bank, wedged tightly between Arsenal fans other than when the goals went in and we popped up like a seed pod bursting. Some fans yesterday wore short trousers as they used to be known, clad in replica shirts mostly. In 1964 no adult owned shorts, let alone wore them out of doors irrespective of the weather. In 1964 I wore short trousers to the match (undoubtedly), so Ah – ha.

To be honest fifty years ago watching the tiny figures whizzing round miles away was pretty much beyond me and I suspect my mind wandered pretty soon. I persuade myself these days I know and understand a little more of what is going on, but I am prone to self delusion. Those replay screens have saved me from moments of embarrassment more than once.

And on that day many years ago you know what happened on the pitch ? The opposition scored first, the crowd groaned and tutted. Had I been more mature I expect I would have heard a few discontents muttering about Billy Wright. Our brave Arsenal lads battled back, then late on Joe Baker scored what in my mind’s eye I can still see as an excellent strike from outside the box in front of my North Bank perch to level the contest, and both sides went at it to the end. Some long forgotten referee blew his ceremonial silver whistle and the players exited for a plunge in the communal bath and for our visitors a fish and chip supper on their long, long journey back to East Lancs by stagecoach.

And “So What?”  concerning all this misty eyed sentimental reminiscing you ask, what relevance might it have to yesterday’s events ?

Well just to say that I do not think that football has changed very much. Players were exceptionally talented athletes 50 years ago compared to the men and boys on the terraces, and they are exceptionally talented now, another breed. They are dedicated to their craft. If they were not they would be the same as us, and spectators in the theatre.

The geographical origin of players has changed, and it was pleasing to see an old Arsenal player called Johnny McLeod on the pitch at half time (who even pre dates me) talking about how he had persuaded his former Hibernian teammate Joe Baker to sign for the Gunners. From what I saw on the pitch yesterday the joy of playing, the excitement of scoring, and the frustration of letting in a goal has not changed for players or fans. Admittedly the notion of Joe Baker ripping off his shirt after his goal to reveal a perfectly rippling torso would be from another Universe compared to Alexis yesterday, but Joe had his moments, in a 1964 kind of way. Eye contact, manly handshake, firm but friendly pat on the shoulder, you know the form.

That I do not think the attraction of watching a real contest that had lured me to Highbury fifty years ago and has kept me returning year after year, though not always week after week, since has changed very much.

Every single game is a clean slate which will be won or lost by an unknowable amalgam of physical skill, game intelligence, perseverance, organisation and always of luck. Luck in some games consists of a few grains, in others it is delivered by the bucketload.

If football had changed, or the object of my affections had changed then my life may have been different. Nothing has changed, other than the colours perhaps. The flame burns bright. My appetite for the game, for the Arsenal and for the contest is as sharp as it was then. I suspect the hunger may carry on in the future as long as there are sunny days like yesterday, great players, great contests, though perhaps not for 50 years.

I thank you.

A guest post from Out For A Corner  

When people think of football, not many think of Tower Records in Piccadilly Circus, but on a cold, spring morning in 1988, it was the only place to be. Or, more accurately, it was the only place where tickets for the upcoming Littlewoods Cup Final were about to go on sale. An Algerian Gooner I worked with had invited me to come with him to try to get tickets: Arsenal versus the not-so-mighty Luton Town. After an hour or so standing outside in the cold, our turn came, and we bought our tickets to the final.

In America in the late seventies and early eighties, there were two ways to see football from Europe. The annual broadcast of the FA Cup Final on ABC’s Wide World of Sports was the only time all year that a match was shown in full (or nearly full – I think they still cut away for ads and maybe some ten-pin bowling). The weekly broadcast of Soccer Made in Germany was generally a better bet. It was a highlights programme, and it not only showed Bundesliga matches but also European matches that involved German teams. With a British commentator and featuring impossibly exotic-sounding teams such as Eintracht Frankfurt, Borussia Mönchengladbach, Wolverhampton Wanderers and West Ham United, the programme offered a tantalising glimpse into a very different world.

Even with this limited access to watching football, I knew that having a Cup Final ticket was something special. As we entered Wembley Stadium, the sight of packed terraces reminded me of the matches I had watched on television a few years before. It was impressive to see more than 95,000 people squeezed in to the old, crumbling stadium, but it was not so enjoyable to be one of them! After a long struggle, we finally found a place to stand. As we settled into our spot, I noticed that one of the people behind us must have spilled his drink, and it was trickling down the terrace. On seeing a second and third stream of liquid, the penny that others had spent eventually dropped. We quickly shuffled sideways, out of the path of the dripping liquid.

The terrace-based sprinkler system notwithstanding, it was an entertaining match. Arsenal conceded an early goal but came back after halftime, scoring two goals in three minutes to take the lead 2-1. The Arsenal goals gave me my first experience of being swept forward in a mass of euphoric supporters – frightening, but thrilling. With about ten minutes left, the referee awarded a penalty to Arsenal, and it seemed the perfect opportunity to finish off the match. However, Nigel Winterburn had his penalty saved. Soon after, Arsenal defender Gus Caesar (“I came. I saw. I fell over.”) gave the ball away in the Arsenal penalty area, and Luton equalised. Then, in the 90^th minute, Luton scored the winner. Defeat snatched from the jaws of victory! (© Arsenal)

As the Luton fans celebrated at the other end of the ground, I asked myself: what kind of a team throws away victory in a cup final? More importantly, did I want to support a team that throws away victory in a cup final? The answer to the second question was no – or, rather, not yet.

Having had my budding passion for Arsenal extinguished so painfully, I moved into the next stage of my football-watching career: I became an interested neutral. Without an allegiance to any team, I was free to appreciate good football wherever I found it – sometimes in the most unlikely places. Yes, dear reader, I am not afraid to tell you: I visited White Hart Lane several times, and I often enjoyed it. Those were the heady days of Gary Lineker, Paul Gascoigne, and Terry Venables. It goes without saying that Spurs won nothing; they did, however, manage to put together a good end-of-season run to finish third. You probably don’t need me to tell you that they have not finished that high in the table since then.

Some matches I attended in this period were notable from a football perspective. Cristiano Ronaldo’s debut for Manchester United, Real Madrid’s 5-1 demolition of Olympiakos in the Bernabeu, Atlético Madrid v Bobby Robson’s Barcelona in a Copa del Rey match that featured three future managers (Pep Guardiola, Diego Simeone and Luis Enrique), and Manchester United knocking Internazionale out of the Champions League at San Siro. Other matches stay in the mind for more unusual reasons. On the way to Adams Park to see Wycombe versus Brentford, I was a victim of football-related hooliganism. Yes, I was hit by an egg. (Annoyingly, the Brentford fans I was with escaped without a drip.) At Old Trafford, the sight of Dave Busst’s horrific leg-break led Peter Schmeichel to be sick on the pitch.

More than any other, though, a match at Plough Lane (Wimbledon v Tottenham) in the late eighties summed up the era. At halftime, there was an announcement that crowd trouble had interrupted the FA Cup semi-final that was being played at Hillsborough between Liverpool and Nottingham Forest. The people on the sparsely populated terrace around us booed the Liverpool supporters and sang songs about the ‘drunken Scousers’ who they assumed had caused the trouble. After the match, on our way back into London on the District Line, I overheard a group of lads next to us discussing the other matches that were being played in London that day. Their conversation had a chilling conclusion. After identifying which teams were playing, they decided to head to Kings Cross – to attack the Newcastle supporters who were on their way home after seeing their team play Arsenal.

That reminds me, what about Arsenal? Despite their success in the late eighties and early nineties, I found the team of that time difficult to like. They seemed a bit thuggish: they were punished with a points deduction for a brawl with Manchester United, and their captain went to prison for drink-driving. However, their most obvious flaw (in my eyes) was that their football was not very enjoyable to watch. They did, however, have an amazing will to win. I watched the finale of the 1988-89 season at my Arsenal-supporting friends’ flat on Liverpool Road. As Liverpool lost the ball with seconds left, I told my friends that Arsenal were about to score – and so it came to be. Aguero, my arse – there has never been a more exciting finish to the season than that match. But even after Anfield, they weren’t my team.

A few years later, I moved to Islington. I was still a neutral, but looking to attend more matches. I suggested to my Liverpool Road friend that we get season tickets to Arsenal and Spurs so we could go to a match every weekend. He declined. As it turns out, that was the year of the first League title (and FA Cup) in the Arsène Wenger era, and there has been a (long) waiting list for season tickets ever since.

In the years between Anfield ’89 and the 1998 Double, I had looked out for whichever team was playing attractive football: the Neil Webb-era Nottingham Forest, Norwich City for a time, Kevin Keegan’s swashbuckling Newcastle, and then, in the years following the arrival of a certain Frenchman, Arsenal. They say if you watch enough football, a team will find you. Well, it took a long time, but eventually the Wenger-era Arsenal found me.

Years later, my friend redeemed himself when he pointed out that there was a residents scheme for the new stadium. Local residents who were on the season-ticket waiting list would be, in effect, allowed to jump the queue. This was Arsenal’s clever, if somewhat cynical, way of placating local opposition to their plans to build a new stadium and help to pay for it by building several high-rise blocks of flats. I signed up to the waiting list, and I was assigned number 37,000-something. I was one of the last to get a ticket before the cut-off.

One of the benefits of the residents’ priority scheme was that it led to life imitating art: in Fever Pitch, Nick Hornby described what he imagined life would be like when he moved to Highbury:

In my street, of course, it would be Arsenal supporters, rather than commuters, who emerged, and they would all be wearing flat caps and faded bar-type red-and-white scarves. And they would see me and smile and wave, and I would immediately become a much-loved and valued member of a happy, working-class Arsenal community.

It wasn’t quite like that, but it wasn’t too far off either. Several people in the neighbourhood have season tickets, and it is not uncommon on match-days to see people emerging at the same time, proudly wearing their bar-type red-and-white scarves. We even occasionally wave to one another.

As well as enabling me to join the local Gooner community, obtaining a ticket marked the end of neutrality. And so began the final part of my journey: as a supporter.

The first season after the move had some real highs: the Bergkamp testimonial (Marco van Basten and Johann Cruyff in the flesh – incredible), the last-gasp Henry header(!) to beat Manchester United – and then the trip to Cardiff to see the Carling Cup Final against Chelsea. I was sure things would be different. In some ways they were: this time, Arsenal scored first. But old habits die hard, and Arsenal still contrived to concede two goals to lose 2-1, Didier Drogba playing the Mark Stein role. Abou Diaby’s full-blooded kick to John Terry’s face was scant consolation.

Fast forward to 2011 for the Carling Cup Final against Birmingham City at the ‘new’ Wembley. Arsenal conceded an early goal but equalised before halftime. The score stayed level until the 89th minute when, in a poorly timed homage to Gus Caesar, Koscielny and Szczesny conspired to give the ball away to Obafemi Martins who gratefully scored the winner. Three League Cup final defeats in three stadiums!

And so to 2014: the FA Cup this time –not the dreaded League Cup – and a semi-final against Wigan, the holders. Arsenal follow the usual script by going behind, but then something amazing happens. They don’t throw the game away. They equalise and then take the match to extra-time. No goals, so on to penalties! What are you made of, boys? Well, sterner stuff than previous years – Arsenal win on penalties. The final? A cake-walk. Arsenal spot Hull City two goals just to make things interesting. Santi tries to outdo Gazza with his free kick to pull one back. Kos emulates Per’s semi-final heroics by scoring the equaliser, and then it is left to The Man – Aaron Ramsey – to score the winner from a ‘gorgeous’ Olivier Giroud back heel. My twenty-six year wait is over. As the players parade the trophy, I look down and notice that the person behind me has spilled his drink. This time, however, it is only Coca-Cola.

So, in the end, what led to me becoming an Arsenal supporter?

It wasn’t the winning or the new stadium. It wasn’t the glamour of new signings. It certainly wasn’t the long-running tendency to lose big Cup matches. Two things made the difference: the way they played – breathtaking, attacking football allied to a miserly defence – and they way they operated. I came to recognise that the Club’s values were compatible with my own. Where others had oil money, Arsenal had stability. Where others had expensive, ready-made star signings, Arsenal had unknowns (or little-knowns) who became stars. Where others mortgaged their future, Arsenal lived within its means. Where others had a new manager every year, Arsenal had the pioneering genius Arsène Wenger. It took me a long time to make my mind up to become an Arsenal supporter – about eighteen years – but, having made the decision, I haven’t regretted it once.

On another note: One of our wise contributors to Positively Arsenal, ZimPaul has been sick. He is one of the guys who will keep his cool when everyone else is losing their heads. We would like to wish him the best and a speedy recovery, and will miss his contributions until he comes back here.

 ***

Message from George:

I can’t begin to express the distress that Paul’s post has brought to me (see below). It seems so horribly final. I hope for once the great man has chosen his words poorly or that I am reading them wrongly.

It’s clear that I’m not alone in holding Paul in such high regard, he truly is a prince among men and should be an inspiration to us all. 

Love you Paul.

Pedantic george.

“ZimPaulSeptember 6, 2014 at 7:08 pm Edit

There we have it then, the window is firmly shut.

Looking in through the window of summer 2014 I can see a nice collection of players have been acquired for our future entertainment.

We have some genuine competition for the goalkeeping position in David Ospina. He may or may not be better than Fabianski but I feel he is a bigger threat to Wojciech simply because he has no baggage; he has never been dubbed with a disrespectful nickname like “Flappianski”.

The French No.1 RB Debuchy has replaced the French No. 2 LB Sagna, and he looks to have a better delivery and be equal to Bac in other departments.  He is of course younger.

Chambers can play at CB, LB and we are assured CDM. That is good news for us going forward and he looks a real gem.

We wanted a world class striker, well that is exactly what Alexis Sanchez is. It’s no good saying he is not a striker – Arsene says that is what he has bought him as. Therefore that is what he is.

Joel Campbell has come in and Arsene has been good to his word and kept him at the club. Had we bought him, people would be very excited about his acquisition.

That’s 5 very good players who have come into the squad before yesterday’s madness.

People (very stupid people) say most, if not all, of these players are replacements and not additions. Completely ignoring the fact that with a fixed limit of 25 squad players, ALL incoming players can only be replacements. All that it is possible to do is replace squad players with better squad players. As far as that goes I feel we have done just that.

In addition to these, yesterday we signed Danny Welbeck from MUFC. With Giroud being long term injured we needed a player who can play at CF and link-up play. It seems he is ideal for that.

Back in June I was arguing on twitter with someone who suggested we should sell Giroud and replace him with Welbeck. This was my tweeted reply

“If we replaced Giroud with Welbeck, I’d join the BSM, AST, start reading Le Grove and be a WOB overnight.”

I stand by that.

Giroud is, in my opinion, a better player than Welbeck, and I would have been furious if we had sold Giroud and Welbeck was his replacement. However as an understudy and cover for injury, he will more than suffice. He is also of an age that a big leap forward could easily be achieved.

Now, looking out of the window I can see some players walking by that we could have bought.

A CB seemed to me a must. Goodness only know why we didn’t get one, and when I next see Goodness,I’ll ask him why!

Perhaps I would also have looked for a DM that could learn from Mikel and cover for him when he needs a rest. But we do have Flamini and perhaps Jack too. I think if jack wants a starting place, the holding role looks his best bet. We’ll see.

All in all I think its been a good window. I also think if the right players had been available then we would have gotten them and it would have been even better.

I feel that had Giroud not been injured it would have appeared a lot more impressive a window than it is currently perceived.

However, whether we are completely happy or not, we march on with the troops we have, at least until January when the madness will begin again.

By pedantic george aka @Blackburngeorge