Arsenal’s best chance for an away win in a big ‘un – writes @LaboGoon

If we thought last weekend was eventful in English football, midweek said ‘hold my beer’.

It was happy hour at the Emirates (of course), ‘out with the (not so) old in with the new’ for a few managers and for one manager the Premier League title chase came to an abrupt end (don’t laugh) … and here we go again.

Good day one and all.

Of the fixtures to look out for on the football calendar it always includes the North London Derbies; and as we make the short trip to Wembley to face Tottenham Hotspurs, it’s Arsenal who will want to build on the gains of these last two weeks.

Following two league defeats in five days the home side (read: squatters) will be licking their wounds, both mentally and physically.  Now there’s a few pundits who will dress this up as “it’s the best thing that could of happened to them”, because, you know, it keeps their egos in check.  Well Saint Pochettino, life came at him fast as he was ready to punch somebody’s lights out.

There they were leisurely cruising along to at least a 3rd place finish and boom, they now find themselves looking over their shoulder with Arsenal, Manchester United and Chelsea closing in, and, should they lose today, the stakes will be raised even further as the battle for top-four will be one of the major talking points in the run-in.

The Gunners go in to this game on the back of three wins on the bounce (all competitions) but here’s the rub … that was at the Emirates where we do well regardless and this season we have not travelled well against top-six opposition (D1, L3).

Hell, who am I kidding, we don’t travel well period.

We won just one of our last seven away league games (D2, L4) so the challenge will now be to see if we can keep our tails up, because with Pochettino having a few concerns there is the hope that we have caught them at the most opportune time.

Now there’s an argument that in derbies, form, or lack thereof, goes out the window and that one Harry Kane usually enjoy this ‘home’ fixture, but one also can’t ignore that he doesn’t seem to have brought his talents back with him from injury.

In no way am I implying this is our match to lose. In most, if not all, big games of this nature the home side usually has the edge though it is hard to ignore Spurs not looking so smooth at present.

Three wins on the bounce is nothing to scoff at, no matter the quality of the opposition, and we’ve done that using some mesmerizing creative passing missing from our game in weeks prior.  If Unai Emery wants to maintain that consistency and familiarity with the hopes of a strong end to this campaign, it will be interesting to see if he fields an attacking lineup that includes our two most creative players, Özil and Mkhitaryan.

Both are both in good nick, in a game that could be pivotal to our season.

This is a big ‘un folks and of importance to both teams, so we can expect Arsenal fighting just as hard to get one over their local rivals as Spurs will to get back to winning ways.

COYG

Today ,because I’m not sure I will be able to post the preview,we revisit a classic tale where the much missed Frank looked 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”

Good morning my positive friends.

Well that was lovely, wasn’t it?

Emery made six changes and we scored five goals. No one can complain about that.

We started with two creative players in mkhitaryan and Ozil and low and behold, we created tings. Things like goals and stuff. Hennrikh with a goal and two assists and Mesut with a goal and an assist. Both played well and as a result, the team played well. I would have prefered to see us with four at the back from the off, but the result justifies the selection, I suppose.

People were baming young Matteo for the goal we let in  but I felt he was clearly fouled and the goal should never have stood. After that he was targeted and I felt he stood up to it well.

We have to remember that Bournemouth have lost 8 away games on the trot and shipped a load of goals in the process, but still, we comprehensively beat what was in front os us, so well done Emery and the lads.

Some of our attacking play was glorious, with Mesut being the orchestra leader, he really is a joy to watch.

We go into the NLD on Saturday lunch time only four points behind them and them struggling for form. I expect Ramsey and Xhaka to come in and that could mean Musut is back on the bench. Personally I think that would be madness, but we shall see.

This was a game where our performance matched the result. Lovely stuff.

I enjoyed the first half of this game. I thought we made a lot of chances and could/should have scored 4 or 5, Lacazette missing an absolute sitter. It seems a bit mean spirited to moan, but once again we have up some easy chances and in truth we were lucky they were squandered by The Saints.

The second half was a disjointed effort and we seemed happy to allow that, cruise control on and with or upcoming fixtures, that was properly smart.

The introduction of Ozil seemed to give everyone a lift, he sparkled and purred, again we could have scored a few late goals.

Despite them having 5 in midfield Xhaka found time and space all afternoon and I thought he had a great game.

We have sneaked into the top 4 for now, but I think we will have to play a lot better than we did today if we are to finish the season in a Champions League position. But at least we are in the race.

Three points though, so can’t complain too much?

Arsenal comfortably progress into the last 16 of the one remaining trophy on offer. That’s what was called for and that’s what we got. Well played lads.

I’m struggling to find the words to best describe the performance, the best I can come up with is mundanely efficient.

An own goal and two of our centerbacks from corners is hardly much to get excited about but it’s nothing to get upset about either.

Let’s be honest, Bate are a poor side and it would have been a massive shock if we hadn’t won. However, although it was not by any means champaign football, it wasn’t bad either.

Standout players for me were Ozil (it’s just a joy to watch him) and Xhaka. I don’t think anyone had a stormer. An honorable mention to Lichsteiner as he performed the way we expected him to when he was signed, but for him and his goal line clearance it could have been an uncomfortable evening. Also felt that Iwobi and Mkhitaryan struggled. I know a lot of people were impressed with Iwobi but I didn’t see it.He looks great running with the ball but ultimately seems to make the wrong decision or at least make the right decision to slowly.

It was great to see and hear  the warm reception that Hleb got when he entered the field of play. The lad has had to commit to another year of football just so he could play against Arsenal these past two games. Lovely player he was.

In summary I was hoping for better but pleased with what we got. On we march.

So an early start with a 5.55 P.M. kick off against the mighty Bate Borisov. Talking about mighty powers, I see the AST have written an open letter to EUFA complaining about the  K.O. time. Well I’m sure EUFA are shaking in their boots as the full force of the Arsenal fans are turned on them. WTF is that all about? Pretentious pricks that they are, anyway, I digress.

After last week’s poor show, this mundane fixture has taken on a life of it’s own. It’s now a huge game and the fallout from a defeat, or a draw which would eliminate us, would be of epic proportions,even for Arsenal fans. I don’t foresee that ever happening though. We beat them 6-0 at home last season with our 2nd eleven, and I suspect we will go full first eleven this time around, so surely a comfortable win is on the cards? Right? I said right?

I don’t think enough was made of the horrible conditions last week. The pitch was horrendous and the temperatures would have seen Polar Bears wearing thermals and an overcoat. With the milder climate in London and the carpet of a pitch, we should have far too much for these lads, even if they do have Hleb.

Aaron and Ozil are both back in full training so will be available to be dropped. I know, I know, I can’t help myself.

One thing I would like to mention, on the official website it says Emery was asked about “Wenger’s comments on Mesut Ozil”, well someone should have said “what comments on Ozil, he didn’t make any ,other than saying he was a £100m player”. I have watched the video 3 times now, and Arsene at no point said Ozil was in a comfort zone or suggested any problem at all. In fact he was at pains to point out that he was not talking about any specific player.

Ok you positive souls, enjoy the game and don’t be too disappointed if we don’t hit double digits.

Mesut Ozil, like any modern footballer, is a regular poster on social media. In the recent past he’s put up photos of him in training, has declared himself fit, has congratulated the team on winning a game he played no part in, been supportive in defeat, and then…He dropped a bombshell! A post so despicable in its cynicism, so patently damaging not just to the team, but also our club’s esteemed values. Like his insensitivity in accepting wages worthy of being the best No10 in the world when the club had no choice, his attempt to blackmail the club by declaring open war on Emery surely suggests that the club need to sort him out. The club can’t back down to this naked display of player power or else it will be anarchy.

He’s got a history of this sort of thing. Instead of knowing his place in the football world, he dared to openly challenge racist attacks on him for taking a photo with a person who is no longer the favourite of the Western world (not that they don’t do business with him, mind) Rather than accept he has to atone and prove his Germanness (Germanity?) again, and apologise for the disruption he caused in the team, he chose to highlight the unfairness, ridiculousness and subtle racism for what it is. But that was Germany, so what do we care.

Of course even with Arsenal he disrespected our legends. Pointing out how they go on national TV and betray the club with their negativity. This sort of unfiltered truth telling does no good to our reputation. The club is now trying to limit the damage by having a love in with media personality and pundit extraordinaire Ian Wright. You can blame Ozil for the fact that we are now subjected to images of Wrighty flying a dragon, or kissing a wall with the badge painted on it. These painfully cynical social media posts are the result of Ozil’s reckless behaviour.

And then we have the football. When it’s clear that we’re having an injury crisis in defense. When our first choice right back, who we don’t know if we’re supposed to like or not because of his pathetically honest views on AFTV but we’ll forgive him for now. Yeah so when this guy we’re ambivalent about gets injured and our whole attack falls apart, what is Mr Ozil doing? He’s not grabbing the game by the scruff of the neck. He’s not even grabbing the coach by the scruff of the neck to tell him to play him. No. Why? Because he’s lazy. He put a gun to the club’s head and forced them to sign a deal at fair market value, and now he’s satisfied with that and no longer feels the need to play.

So instead of accepting that the club no longer panders to his pathetically high ambitions of winning and playing well, and just jumping ship like the honourable players of the past such as RVP, Cesc and Nasri, this player has the gall to post this…this vile.. subversive message to his millions of followers on social media. Ozil has committed blasphemy. He invoked God, and used that to send out the message that he has found his home at Arsenal. Such insurrection against this club cannot be tolerated. You know our club motto which says Victory through self-harming. Or the glorious statement of remember who you are, what you represent, and know your place. No player is bigger than the private corporate club. It won’t help our valuatio…errrr.. values.

Henceforth, only officially sanctioned communications vetted by our esteemed blog commissars will be allowed to be posted by Ozil. By order of King Raul the First.

Shard @ShardGooner

I sat down at 5.55 PM , with my chilli and chips on my knee, are readied myself to watch what was a very strong Arsenal 11 about to play a very poor team from somewhere far off towards the east that hadn’t played a game for two months, I expected an efficient display and perhaps some scintillating stuff, perhaps even a large dose swash and some buckle.

Needless to say what was served up was about as far away from that as can be imagined. The first 10 minutes or so it looked like the mismatch it should have been, the following 84 odd minutes were rather a disappointment, to say the very least.

If you saw the game then there is no point me dissecting it, and if you missed it I will save you the pain.

The worst of it is that I wasn’t at all surprised. We have lost 7 of our last 14 games, and no one could say we have deserved better.

We might have beaten them 6-0 last season on the Emirates carpet? So we should see them off in the second leg. If we go through then I suppose that will be all that matters to many, but to me it does matter. There is something wrong. I will leave at that as this is not the platform for me to open up with a broadside.