A very hard game today, but win, lose or draw, this is our club, team and manager. All we have to do is support them. It really is that simple.

Now here are some words from Zim Paul on The Boss ”

Interesting match coming up. Should Arsenal be nervous with so many out for “the big one’? No, not at all. We’re on a decent run importantly against top opposition, the momentum so far good, Flamini/Arteta axis looks sorted and quietly effective, Ox and Tomas are in tremendous attacking form, Lukas and Gnabs in contention too, the defense is as solid as can be, the keeper too, and Santi is a match winner. Chelsea are just slightly weakened with Ramirez out, the key player for them in an Arsenal type match and a thorn in our side; the other Brazil fella not so much, useful, but we could contain him anyway. Eto’o, now there’s one we need to keep an eye on. He can’t sustain it anymore, but still has that eye for goal from any angle, and will shoot.

Many decent and mostly fair comments on the millennium, the best of which simply says only two managers of this generation have actually left a legacy, Rednose and Arsene, which I think is a fair decent summary from a neutral’s perspective. The full story of Arsene Arsenal is far from told, but tellingly Wenger intimates the gong drought years are his most important accomplishment, including the Invincibles. Well, that’s been our narrative for some time, only Wenger told it better, simpler. As the money got siphoned to the stadium over 7 years (and Arsene is too polite to say it but we can, in the same period Chelsea and later City, and in their lesser way Yoo and even Pool, would contort the entire fabric of EPL football with tycoon wealth and juggernaut buying), the single critical factor was to stay in CL, year after year, for financial reasons. Failure to do so would have placed the everything in jeopardy, threatening the club.

One day people will ask the sensible question, it’ll take time but it will be asked because its the only question. How the hell did you manage to do it Wenger, it has never and had never been done in this context? In fact, there is no parallel whatsoever, it is a singular story. Wenger had so much against him, the pressure must have been immense, especially every last 3 or so months of every season (which Arsene mentions)? Because I had to will be his answer, because we had to. And that courage, humility and intellect (that threesome so often in tandem) will become obvious to all.

And players who themselves knew only part will want to say, “I was part of the amazing story”. And some will because they truly were, and some won’t or will say something forgettable because they deserted, ducked or deflated – in the selfish way of foolish young footballers and their agents – Arsenal’s great quest for something called legacy.

The legacy will outlive every other memory, failure or victory on the field or trophy quests. It will outlive us all, and all the players too. In time it will simply be a chapter in the entire history of football in England, and so will outgrow even Arsenal itself.”

That my friends is why this blog exists. So we can  thoughts lie that.

Today’s post is by Muppet

It’s not too hard to find anti-Arsenal sentiment in any given week of the season.

The narrative in the press after the Bayern defeat was indicative. It told us that Arsenal were simply not good enough, whilst plucky City deserved better.

In the backdrop of the Stoke defeat, we have also been condemned to 4^th place, veritable also-rans in the title race. The bookies followed suit, condemning us to long odds of 16/1 despite being on the same number of points currently as Liverpool.

The Daily Mail’s infamous Neil Ashton, presenter on Sky Sports’ Sunday Supplement, on Twitter @neilashton_

Incredibly, Neil Ashton of the Daily Mail has written a piece, steeped in unbelievable hypocrisy, where he comes out with the risible claim that Spuds have overachieved in the Redknapp years and this over-expectation is now causing unrest amongst fans. Even if we were to entertain these falsehoods – which they are, given their £280m+ transfer net spend – they reek of huge hypocrisy, a bare-faced attempt by a journalist to stick up for one club whilst happily sticking the knife into another;  in this instance it’s us, despite the reality of the comparison being much more in our favour. Indeed, our zero net spend in the transfer market is never mentioned in the press. It is not convenient.  And how the piece actually has truer parallels amongst Arsenal fans is an irony lost on Ashton.

Neil Ashton’s recent form in the last 2 weeks is to say that Ozil was “Nicking a living”. In tandem, the Mirror produced a back page headline, at half time, castigating Ozil’s 1^st half performance against Bayern, not knowing he had a hamstring problem:

Daily Mail’s disgraceful headline from 11th March 2014 – http://dailym.ai/Ojlqq9

The Daily Mirror’s John Cross, too, got into the act, redacting statements on Twitter hurriedly, in the face of a huge backlash from Arsenal fans.

Adrian Durham, another staple of the gutter press. regularly espouses arrant nonsense on TalkSport. Durham claims to like Arsenal, which is quite bonkers, given his notorious “Daily Arsenal” show, which gleefully rejoices at whatever misfortune comes our way, and sneers at any Arsenal fans who go on the radio station to defend the club.

Sneering TalkSPORT radio presenter, Daily Mail columnist and published author, Adrian Durham, on Twitter @talkSPORTDrive

The only saving grace of Durham, is that he has correctly targeted Spuds incompetence in recent times, making him a hate figure across North London. Durham loves to champion moral causes, but fails to mention financial fair play or excesses by huge clubs. When you confront him about the pathetic lack of progress of Manchester City in the champions league, you get the reply, as I did:

“That’s strange, one supporter talking about another club.”

“Amateurish” Andy Dunn – Sunday Mirror sports columnist and Chairman of the Football Writers’ Association, on Twitter @AndyDunn_SM

Another anti-Arsenal sceptic is Andy Dunn.

Despite us being competive pretty much all season, our title challenge was dismissed back in November, even following our recent 2-0 win over Liverpool at home. Forced to backtrack on his claim that we couldn’t win the title, he said we wouldn’t win it. Dunn doesn’t seem to miss an opportunity to put the knife into the Arsenal management, be it Wenger or the board. In August he claimed that the way we were going about our business was “amateurish”.

On September 29th, he pens an article attacking the “lack of ambition” of Stan Kroenke, saying:

“You sense trophies would be a nice bonus on top of the real business – the smooth running of a financially-successful franchise.”

This is all very interesting, but Amateurish Andy offers no context about the competition and environment that we find ourselves in.  Sneering at Kroenke is all well and good, but this is just another example of a journalist who doesn’t understand economics.

It’s very simple.

Arsenal refuse to inject money into players wages or transfers that is not earned by the club.  Other clubs continue to do this.

A Mirror hack to watch out for is Darren Lewis.

Darren Lewis, another Daily Mirror journalist – this one describes himself as ‘a football fan’, on Twitter @MirrorDarren

Almost certainly a Spud.

With statements like “Why Spurs now have bigger fish to fry than Arsenal”, he suggested that the gap was narrowing in 2012. Other articles include asking Arsenal fans to admit why Spurs were no longer the poor relations. Darren Lewis made a fictitious claim that Joachim Low told Ozil that he would miss the World Cup, which is complete nonsense. After reviewing a selection of Lewis’s articles, it is pretty clear, that like Andy Dunn, he does not have a good word to say about Arsenal.

Pundits and Commentators

Understandably there is a lot of anti-Arsenal sentiment amongst pundits, a lot of them ex-Chelsea, Man Utd and Liverpool players.  Michael Owen, Tony Gale, Tony Cascarino are the worst perpetrators. Gale in particular just hates Arsenal and makes no attempt to hide it. How he gets away with commentating for Chelsea is beyond belief.

Cascarino is so stupid he said that “Chamakh was having a holocaust”, which almost finished his ‘career’.

Owen? He is too stupid even to comment on.

Apart from the individuals, more worryingly is the on-going stupidity of the narrative about Arsenal. Every competition we enter there is always a reminder that it’s 9 years without a trophy. Never mind that our Champions League progression in each and every year has eclipsed Manchester City since 2005.

Other annoying examples are that we don’t have a striker, when we have Podolski, Walcott and Giroud.

The questioning of a weak bench when we have eight to ten 1st team players injured.

The lack of acknowledgement of the significance of the absence of Ramsey and Walcott.

The continuing pressure to spend money, particularly in the January transfer window.

My question to the press and pundits is this – City have spent £1 billion, and their return is 1 FA Cup, 1 League title and 1 Carling Cup – is that a good return on their investment ? I would argue no. The narrative of spending money is very rarely directed at Real Madrid, a club and a team that I don’t particularly rate, who have spent similar money over the last 10 years, but have only won 1 Champions league trophy. Real Madrid are the most egregious example of media hype, considering their lack of relative achievement to their net spend.

This is not an attack on Real Madrid, but on the media.

Alan Brazil this morning was trumpeting Ronaldo and Bale this morning. But so what ? A fully fit Arsenal team would match them in my view.

The media narrative and anti-Arsenal bias continues to be self-serving and is part of the entertainment game that is being played out.

Nobody wants to question the vast sums of money being circulated, because they want to be part of it. The media talks up the need for Arsenal to spend and get in on the act. How they still do this following the embarassement of Spuds £100 million pound spend, as former owner Lord Sugar put it: “Like kids in a sweet shop”, is baffling.

If anything, the Spuds debacle shows that patient value acquisitions, achieved over time by Wenger, is the only sustainable model.

But we won’t hear of this.

The “industry” will continue to produce sensationalist headlines for the reactionary wing of the Arsenal fan base to gorge on. The same press that calls for Arsenal to spend money, and when we do, try to label them a flop.

Right now the tide is turning in our favour, and the media know this. They cannot cope with the narrative as it stands, so expect a lot of revisionism and a change of emphasis. Now that we have more money the attacks will come now about what success we should expect, and what “big” players are underperforming.

It will probably get worst.

You can discuss the headlines and more with Muppet on Twitter @MuppetGooner

I am indebted to Yankee Gooner, one of the people I follow on Twitter, who reminded me of this little gem from Fever Pitch:

How could Nick Hornby suggest that back in the dim and distant anyone could possibly devote so much time and obsession to supporting a team that on the face of things they clearly hated?

It seems contrary to any logical behaviour and surely no one feels like this now, especially as there are so many choices of teams to watch on the TV, so many different forms of entertainment; if you think your team are rubbish, then either change your team, or your pastime. I suppose back then there wasn’t that much choice, live football didn’t happen on TV, so if you wanted to follow a team you were pretty much chained to the local club. If you were lucky in the Post Code lottery, you grew up close to Liverpool, or Arsenal, or Manchester United: unfortunate and you were left irrevocably chained to Oldham, Millwall or Portsmouth.

For on the face of things there is nothing rational about such behaviour, about hating so passionately the thing you are meant to love, and it beggars belief that anyone should behave like this nowadays in an era where quite frankly we have never had it so good (and I speak with some authority as I remember the three day week, the power cuts, the football specials and those pitches, shorts and haircuts – particularly the Baseball Ground and Charlie George for some reason). Perhaps however this masochistic impulse is deeply ingrained in the football fan, and looking at the responses on the various Arsenal Twitter feeds, and listening to some of the crowd reactions at the Emirates it would certainly seem to be alive and well in 2014. As far as I can tell, some sections of The Arsenal’s support are exactly like Fan 1: we have been top of the league most of the season, and they still think we are rubbish. How odd to be like that, and how agonisingly self-defeating, but the answer, I think, lies in his last line: to live in hope is all well and good I suppose, but it tends to have a terrible effect on your experience of the present, as almost by definition its suggestion that things must be better in the future also confirms that things ain’t great right now.

Especially so, of course, if your present existence isn’t all beer and skittles – and for so many that is the unfortunate situation. Few of us are true masters of our own destiny. Instead we are forced to work for others in jobs we do not enjoy, if we are lucky enough to have jobs at all. The daily grind eats into the soul, each repetitive task taking us further and further away from all that we thought we were promised in childhood, when everything seemed so rosy and full of possibility. Small wonder then that the fame and fortune as offered by a lottery win or X-Factor success looms so large in the hopeless dreams of the rank and file. And that is where the football club comes in, for each week it also offers an escape from reality and the illusion of success – but actually a much more tangible one. Each match is keenly anticipated and planned for, teams are picked, tactics debated. Those of a certain age believe they are the manager, younger ones the players.  Briefly, the football fan owns the team, for his ticket or his TV subscription (items often dearly bought and involving sacrifice elsewhere) means he has invested in the club just as surely as the millionaire owner or the board of directors have done. All is set fair – let the good times roll! Momentarily we are invincible. The stadium is full of glamour, the latest top signing a beyond-human thoroughbred, the sense of belonging as the anthemic hymns belted out palpable. This is indeed the Promised Land, and giddy with anticipation the cares of our lives fade away, for we are by far the greatest team the world has ever seen.

Except most times they don’t of course. A bad decision, a moment of brilliance from the other team, an all too human error from our champion reminds us that actually everything is shit. We are, after all only mortal, our champions have feet of clay, and if work wasn’t bad enough already we know that on Monday every other fan in the world will be mocking us, buoyed and fed as they are by the sensationalist headlines that await every reverse, and extra-especially every failure to be outstanding from The Arsenal. It doesn’t matter that overall we are doing really rather well, that we are infinitely better off than every other club in the UK bar possibly two financially doped, but oh so beatable rivals; the fact remains that our dreams (however unrealistically) have been shattered. If you are lucky enough (and I can’t believe I am just writing this, because that is the weirdest definition of lucky you will ever see) to know that everything is terrible anyway, you will think something along the lines of “oh well, never mind, how foolish of me to think we might beat Barcelona or Bayern” and just get on with your real life: if however all of your hopes are pinned on the team, and if you were foolish enough to believe that one day that team would unload all good into your life, then of course you will be beyond angry, for your sense of betrayal will be absolute.

And so you resort to saying that they are rubbish, that they were last year, and that they will be next year too. If you are old-fashioned you will share this view with yourself and maybe a mate or two. If you are modern you will broadcast this betrayal of these fancy pants to the wide world you imagine will be listening on your various social platforms.  For a moment you will hate your club and its players (especially the fancy ones that promised so much), because they have just reminded you of how much you hate yourself. But hatred is surprisingly close to love, and, as they say, hope springs eternal, and there is already the next game to look forward to….

Thanks to  @foreverheady for today’s article.

I was about to rack my brains and come up with an article about yesterdays game, full in the knowledge that most will have seen it and read about it already. However, I saw the post by Zim Paul and thought “that’s what I should be writing” So here it is .

“Sometimes a game is truly decided by a goal, bigger than the game as it were, and so deserves such accolade. This was not one of those. It was of course a goal of the season contender. But it was a defensive performance of heroic proportions against a Spurs side that needed this win, and whatever it took to do it. Make no mistake this was Spurs actual cup final, a do or die affair and they played accordingly; we have a few more, oh 11 more “cup finals” all told, I believe.

The Arsenal team itself (if the Ox interview is any reflection, and he is such a straight talking bloke I think it was) was disappointed with the level they played and mistakes they made, but did not find the result lucky or incongruous. Now that’s worth everything! Because that says more about this team than anything else.

Last time we had a “definitive” run of matches, which was like yesterday (Feb), we started badly, had some outrageous bad luck, then picked ourselves up, then stumbled. This time we have a definitive tricky run, now half way through, we remain unbeaten (H A A and have conjured 6 for and 2 against). As Frank says, everyone and their dog under-estimates our side and its combination of crisp creativity and bloody resilience, and that’s exactly the way we like it. Look at Liverpool! Look at City! And everyone’s money is on Chelsea anyway. This is a very, very good sign. Hope it continues.”

I would just like to add that its beyond annoying that when other teams play as we did yesterday , we are told “when you can play like that and win ,it means you can win the title”

Yet when Arsenal do just that its “you cant play like that and win the title”.

Odd, very odd.

Today we revisit a classic tale where Frank looks back, more in sorrow than in anger, to re-tell a chilling tale of a long-lost summer of love, terrible betrayal and lots of super furry animals. 

Today’s page turner …

I was mugged in Seven Sisters.

To be accurate I was attacked in Seven Sisters since nothing was stolen.

Cold bloodedly gratuitously attacked.  A summer afternoon several decades ago spent with a friend and I was heading home to Tufnell Park.  It was an early evening in July but I could hardly see as I turned into the tunnel heading for the tube, eating sausage and chips.  Out of nowhere something hit me on the back of the head and just as I turned, a fist hit me in the mouth.  I fell to the ground in a daze and the protagonists proceeded to kick the living shit out of me.

There was a lot a ‘fackin’ this’ and ‘kantin that’ as the boots went in and afterwards just the sound of nasal snickering.  Before I passed out I caught a glimpse of two of them.  One in white trousers and a bowler hat with ‘Tottenham Droogies’ written across the back.  The other had calf-length faded jeans, docs, white tee shirt, braces …. and a tattoo on his forearm.

A tattoo of a cock and ball.

I must have been out for a while because when I woke up, the ends of the tunnel were dark.  The reek of urine and unwashed bodies was only just bearable.  I was surrounded by squashed chips and, nestling in the gutter by the wall with not a bite out of it, was my sausage.  My head hurt like hell, split lip, bumps and bruises all over but I seemed to be OK.

I’d got away with it.

Could have been killed.  Could have been maimed or paralyzed for life.  Thankfully I had done what most blokes who are being kicked in the head do, I protected my privates.  Death is preferable to castration.

I had survived.

Slowly I got up.  I just wanted to get home.  Brushed off the fag ends, chewing gum, dog shit.  Stretched out my arms and then my legs, moved my head from side to side.  Tested my aching bones.  Nothing broken.  Lets go home, Frank.  Then someone behind me coughed.

I spun round afraid that they had come back to finish me off.

But there standing in front of me was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.  She had on an ankle length yellow dress and sandals.  She had long, long tresses of red hair and her smile was extraordinary; it could fill a room, or, in this case, a tunnel.  Her smell was intoxicating and as she touched my face with her hand I just knew that she was an angel.

I was dead and on my way to heaven.

She asked me if I was okay.  She asked me if I was in pain.  She asked if there was anything she could do for me … and before I could answer she passed me her guinea pig and started mopping my brow.

Guinea pig?

What the feck?

She gave me a guinea pig?  Well yes she did.  She handed me her guinea pig.  Cleaned me up.  Took her guinea pig back.  Held my hand and took me to Tufnell Park.

That is how I met Maude.

Oh Maude, Maude, Maude – you were perfect.  She took me home to my apartment and stayed for three weeks.  What a three weeks!

Idyllic.

Walking on the Heath.  Drinking in The Flask in Highgate.  Strolling through Waterlow Park.  Saying “hello” to Karl Marx.  Wearing each others’ clothes.

Actually she wore mine, I didn’t wear hers, I really didn’t.  Getting drunk together on Grand Marnier and sick together afterwards.  Listening to a friend play folk songs outside the Admiral Mann.  I even started to read poetry, although it didn’t last.  Mostly though, we just made love.  Anywhere and everywhere.

In that time I was treated to a parade of animals.

Guinea pigs, rats, hamsters, geckos, turtles, tortoises, parrots, budgies, kittens, puppies, fish, snakes, you name it.

Every day she would disappear for a few hours and return with different animals.  Only on Sundays would she return without an animal and on Sunday evenings she was always very tired.  The explanation turned out to be a bit crazy but I could deal with it.  She let on that she was into animal liberation and spent much of her time nicking animals from pet shops and domestic animal stockists.

Her aim in life was to free them all.

Create an animal utopia where they could all live free from human bondage.  How she managed to get plastic bags of tropical fish and a twelve foot python out of a shop without anyone noticing I have no idea.  But she did it.  Insane of course, and I loved her all the more for it.  We were madly, stupidly, giddily happy.

Until that fateful day in early August.

So far we had lived in my flat.  It was OK.  But I was getting more and more curious.  Where did she live?  How long?  What was it like?  Was she sure that she was not using the animals as a cover for her sneaking back to a long time live-in partner or husband?

Joke, sort of.  What was she hiding?

After much cajoling on my part she finally agreed that we could stay at her place.  She lived in a flat on the first floor of a Victorian house on the A10 near to the junction with Clapton Common.  She had been on her way home when she found me in the tunnel.

So off we went.

We spent a pleasant few hours in the Spaniards’ Inn and went to a party with friends in Stoke Newington.  Caught a taxi to hers.  Let ourselves in.

Her living room was full of no-longer-soon-to-be-pets.

It was smelly and it was noisy, but she cleared a space  and we sat and drank tea and chatted amongst the boxes, cages, baskets and tanks.  Finally we fell into bed exhausted.  The following day was Monday and neither of us needed to get up early.  We were very soon fast asleep in each others arms.

We awoke on Monday morning refreshed.  She made cups of tea and brought them back to bed.  Gradually we began to get interested, the way you do.

We kissed and cuddled …

Then Maude whispered that she would like to make love in daylight amongst the trees and birdsong.  Her garden was beautiful at this time of year, she said.  She asked me to open the curtains and open the window.

Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes.

About as excited as I have ever been in my life I leapt out of bed, hopped to the almost full-length sash window and threw open the red velvet curtains to let the sun in …

The No 149 bus route has been transporting the residents of that area to the City for many years and I believe that it still does to this day.

In the days of the old Routemasters, in the rush hour the bottom deck was crammed full of people, many standing and some dangling from the platform at the back.  Upstairs was calmer and those fortunate enough to get a seat were able to read the paper or a book, do the crossword, do the Pools, knit, or in most cases just sit and watch the world go by.  There are a number of points on that journey where the bus comes to a standstill for quite a while as the traffic gets well and truly jammed.

One particular point is just outside Maude’s flat.

The floor of the top deck on those buses is roughly about the level of the first floor of that particular block of houses, and the windows of the bus are about six feet from the residents’ windows.  You can see awful lot from the top of that bus and on that day passengers had a real treat.

As the curtains opened they were greeted with … think of Leonardo’s Study of Human Proportions according to Vitruvius. 

But weedier and in a state of arousal.

For my own part I just remember seeing an endless stream of tickets coming out of the Clippie’s machine and thinking thank goodness they can’t see my feet because I’ve still got my socks on.  I turned to shout at Maude for setting me up, and as I did so I noticed something.  Something very serious indeed.  Something which caused me to shut out the embarrassment of the last few seconds completely.  I couldn’t believe it.  I froze.  The blood drained from my face and obviously from other places.

The bottom fell completely out of my world.

In the lower right hand corner of the window was a sticker.  Not a very big one, about the size of a bob-a-job sticker.  But this particular sticker had a motif on it.  A dreadful symbol.

A cock and ball.

We just hadn’t discussed football.  People had the summer off in those days.  No transfer activity.  I turned to her and just shouted “TOTTENHAM” at her at the top of my voice.  At first she completely misunderstood and she laughed and shouted:  “YES. YOU TOO …?”.

But before she could finish, she realised.

It was probably me screaming “YOU ARE A FARKING SPUD” that gave it away.  Her beautiful face contorted into an ugly grimace and in a vicious whisper she spat “Arsenal.  You are a fecking Gunner?  You bastard”.

I couldn’t stay.

I needed air.  I grabbed my clothes, putting them on as I scrambled through the menagerie in the living room.  I got to the front door and slammed it to, shutting out the cacophony behind me.  I headed for a café on the corner of the block, ordered coffee and just sat in a window seat sipping and smoking.  I half expected her to follow and to be honest I half hoped that she would.

But I realised it was over.

I could take the pet rustling and I could even take being humiliated in front of a bus full of people but I could not take the fact that she was a SPUD.  That could never work.

But that was not quite the end of it.

As I sipped my third coffee, having smoked half a pack of cigarettes, two panda cars and a police van arrived at her flat.  Maude was led out in handcuffs and for the next hour policemen loaded the back of the van with her contraband, Noah’s Ark fashion.  I felt bad about that at the time as I watched her driven away in the back of the police car it seemed unjust that she should go down for stealing animals when she had such good if not misguided intentions.  It turned out in court about six weeks later though, that every Sunday she ran a pet stall on Club Row.

She had been nicking pets and flogging them on.  She also stole them to order.

I will always remember Maude though and if I ever meet her again, which is very unlikely, I know exactly what I will say to her……………

“CARMON ARSENAL CARMON ARSENAL CARMON ARSENAL

ARSENAL, ARSENAL, ARSENAL….ARSENAL, ARSENAL, ARSENAAAAL…ARSENAL, ARSENAL, ARSENAL….ARSENAL….ARSENAL”

Frank can occasionally be found on Twitter @ohdearaaah

Today’s post is by PA regular, Seebs.

It’s official.

It’s that time of year again when with ten premier league games to go it’s THE RUN IN.

On Sunday 16^th of March at 16.00 we kick off not just a game, but the beginning of our march to destiny, whatever that may be.

The fact that we have got here at all is remarkable considering the Yeovil type playing field we have been competing on. From the relegation battle with Villa at the start of the season to the run of games which see us at the top of the Premier League we have had reason to both laugh and cry, as always Arsenal is a roller-coaster that we hope finishes with us still screaming, laughing and with our hands in the air.

The recent run of games added to spuds, Chelski, Swansea, City, Toffees and Wigan is probably the hardest set of fixtures any European team has ever taken on.  Do well in these and then the only banana skins left are Irons,Tigers, Toon, Baggies and Canaries.  Oh and of course the semi final and hopefully final of the FA Cup. Finish the season by winning a cup final and the double will be safely in the bag.

In recent seasons we have finished strongly and with the strongest squad in years we should feel confident although at this time of the season no game is easy and results are often irrational.  With three derbies, four top of the table clashes, five away games (or five home games whichever you consider more difficult) the task is big. Throw in the rate at which the games come, the anti-Arsenal press putting pressure on us and highlighting negatives to the fans, incompetent refs, the perpetual injuries due to teams being allowed to kick us and our two biggest rivals having bigger squads and easier fixtures, then it becomes mountainous.

We also seem to be picking up injuries at a rate of knots and so picking a team for form or tactics may not even be an option.

Another strange anomaly is the effect the success the youth teams are having. With the youth teams progressing in the youth cup, the PL U21 cup and the UEFA youth CL and the injuries to the first team, there are youth players being chosen for first team games over important youth games and sometimes even the other way around. Isaac Hayden was on the bench in Munich and Semi Ajayi regularly trains with the first team and yet Gideon Zelalem played the youth cup game instead of traveling. It seems to be the youth players will play a vital part in 6/7 competitions between now and the end of the season. The fact we have players who can play quite comfortably in the U18 and PL competitions once again shows the quality of the club.

It is a reminder to any talented youngster that at Arsenal you can progress all the way, an option not available at Chelski or City.

I had originally included a possible Treble in the write up before the return Bayern game but like I say this has been an emotional roller-coaster. Before we all give up and go home this famous club has beaten the odds before and with our current manager one of the best mountain climbers around we are well placed and even if we don’t make it to the top first, the assent has been magical at times and a season earlier than many of us expected. We have won the league on goal difference in 1953 and although that looks against us this season a last game triumph is not beyond us.

http://www.arsenal.com/news/news-archive/winning-the-title-on-last-day-of-season and of course on that glorious night at Anfield in 89, coincidently both played on a Friday night. So there is no reason a last gasp winner should hold any fears for us.

So whatever happens between now and the summer recess COME ON YOU GLORIOUS GUNNERS

We can all join Seebs in the run in on twitter @arse_or_brain

London, New York, Paris, Munich – everyone’s talking about Pep’s music. Except of course, they’re not, or at least the UK papers who might, just might, be expected to get behind an English club playing in Europe, aren’t.  Are Bayern a good team, a world-class outfit: well yes, but not if they are playing against the Arsenal, partly because The Arsenal are also a very good team who give them a run for their money, but mainly because to praise Bayern extravagantly now would be also to give tacit praise to The Arsenal and the team so carefully assembled and prepared by Arsene Wenger.

So better by far to lambast The Arsenal for lack of imagination, for carelessness in preparation, for profligacy on the injury front. Better to seek out Mesut Ozil and slate him (and by extension Arsene Wenger) for an anonymous performance than make the obvious connection between serious hamstring injury and limping play. Better for the papers to gloat about the German fans’ booing and catcalling of young Mesut, than on the sinister and echoing reminder of previous Holocaustian witch-hunts of Turkish Muslims, the booming “Bayern, Bayern” rolling out across the packed Allianz stands reaching almost Nuremburg proportions, European domination  seemingly once more tantalisingly in sight. Better to criticise Arsene for pointing out before the game that the refereeing might be inconsistent and gullible, than to dwell on the cards not given for simulation.

I have just about had enough of the sneering Clive Tyldesley, of the ingratiating Neil Ashton, of the myopic Jim White. Oh how they love it when The Arsenal stumble, and oh how they rejoice in their little England agenda.  Almost, but not quite, because like a toxic sponge they soak up any disappointment I might feel, and allow me to vent anger at them rather than dwell on the shortcomings of my team. Because they are my team, and whilst in the privacy of my own mind (and shamefully occasionally out loud in front of the TV) I might conclude that x is the worst player ever after misplacing a pass or snatching a shot, woe betide anyone else who dares to voice such a view.

And I know that despite the sense of loss that accompanies any reverse, that this is a good team, that these are fine players, that this is a great club. Over two legs we came close – very close – to upsetting a fine Bayern Munich team.  We are going to Wembley this year, and might hopefully go twice. We have a Premier League run-in to savour, and this weekend a trip to our neighbours to endure and enjoy.

Tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And then one fine morning—
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

Thank to  @foreverheady for today’s article. PA was intended as a forum for us all, and its a great help when someone steps up to the plate.

“Que, sera, sera, whatever will be, will be …”

I have to admit to feeling more than a little apprehensive before kick-off  and by half-time I was feeling no better.

Even when we scored after seven minutes I was worried.  I don’t know why, because we were clearly the better team.

Fabianski had nothing to do and it seemed like we spent the majority of the first half taking corners.

Yet Everton somehow managed to score.

Arteta took a shot from the edge of the box.  I am told he should not have been there because that constituted being “out of position for a holding midfielder.”  I’m still trying to come to terms with that opinion.

The ball was blocked and fell to Ross Barkley (Jack’s replacement as the saviour of England).  He ran the length of the field with Flamini, who despite catching him, allowed him to cross a low ball in to an undefended far post. Per should have seen the space but was attracted towards the ball.

1-1 at the break. Bollocks.

Anyway,  you all saw what happened in the second half, we were very good and very good value for a comfortable win.

There were some great performances from quite a few of our boys.

Ozil was simply majestic.  AOC was terrific in his directness.  Mikel commanding.  Santi was at his tricky best.

The skipper was very good considering how little he has played.

Rosicky was just something else when he came on.

Oh yes, and Giroud once again made a mockery of the idea that he can’t finish.

On to Wembley.

Great game, great tactics and great set up. It looked to me like Arsene had shuffled Mikel forward a little, less holding and more…….. well something else. Controlling is perhaps the word ?

I liked it.

If you liked it enough to Twitter with George he’s at @blackburngeorge

Arsenal’s brightest young star set to shine again

I read yesterday that Arsenal intend to offer Aaron Ramsey a double your money contract extension  ( http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/football/teams/arsenal/10676875/Arsenal-set-to-reward-Aaron-Ramsey-with-100000-a-week-deal.html ) .

Aaron is in the same position as Jack, AOC, Gibbs and Jenkinson in that he is about one year into his current deal.  So why would the club consider this move, at this time?

I saw a few people on twitter questioning both what he has done to deserve this, and is it right when he has so long remaining at a much reduced salary.

So lets consider the first part: “What he has done to deserve this?”

My answer to that would be: “Are you kidding? Are you mad?”

Aaron was, prior to his recent injury,  by a clear margin, the best midfielder in England this season and the last part of the previous one.

He gives balance to the team in a way that perhaps only Diaby could match. We just have not looked the same team without him.

He is a magnificent player who quite literally has it all. Pace unrivaled over the course of a game; heart, skill, composure, stamina, assists and goals.  On top of that he is a charming young man who epitomises class.  And still only 23 years old. It’s frightening to think how good he will end up.

Coming back from having his leg smashed beyond recognition by the Captain of the Orks to be able to play to any decent standard is achievement enough, but to a level the allowed him to win Arsenal Player Of The Month  on five consecutive occasions is little short of monumental.

If there is truth in this revised contract story then it is clear that the club see him as our most valuable youngster.

Personally I have always seen him as being easily the brightest young star at the club.  And by a distance.  That’s not to say we don’t have other great prospects, but simply that I think he is the best.  Others may disagree with me and that’s fine, but none have come near to the standards he has set this season, ever.

By giving him this improved deal what are the club saying?

Well for a start they’re saying that they are fair. Perform well and you will be rewarded and appreciated.

Also they are telling other clubs that they can’t come along and tempt him away because they will double his money.  Too late, we’ve already done it.

They are displaying to Players, agents, clubs and our own fans that our financial clout is real and being put to use.

I see no downside to giving this wonderful player a better deal,  and I hope its true.

George can be found on Twitter @Blackburngeorge