Gf60 writes;

My most exciting game (outside of championship deciders and cup finals).

Isn’t it strange that when you cast your mind back over literally hundreds of games that really got you going, drenched with sweat, hoarse, really exhausted as though you’d covered every blade of grass on the pitch yourself, that a lost game is the most memorable?

After all there are 1-0 wins that were so against the run of play but so exciting (as we, the fans, literally tried to blow the ball away from our danger area) that they live in the mind far longer than eminently satisfactory but easy 6-2 wins. Even some 1-1 draws have done that.

So why choose a loss? Simple. It was a game that not only lives; it also showed what Gooners could do when they believed in themselves (something that our recent sides have done so well) and it also had me crying but a few days later.

There was a day in 1958 when “Manchester United” was simply that…..not MFU or any other other acronym for cheatin’, lucky, dirty bastards.

They were footballing Gods, blessed with skills so far from the norm that they resembled our Invincibles. (Even so they never managed a season unbeaten which goes to show just how good we were.)

We all knew that our side was just there to act as the sacrificial lamb, but in those days watching football played at such a level was no hardship. So they’ve put 14 goals past us in the last 3 games? And, they’ll put 3 or 4 past us again today, so what? Miss this game and you miss out on seeing real skill….and football as it can be played.

Whatever time the kick off, probably 1pm in those archaic days of no floodlights and no substitutes, you got to the ground a good 3 hours before hand for a game like this. Establish your viewing position, programme and a paper to read, big bag of peanuts to hand and then start the ‘how big a crowd?’ game; do the raffle for first person to score….”please let me pull Tommy Taylor!” No, get Denis Evans instead but at least that left you with a chance of just maybe the Arse will get a penalty….if of course we ever get into their area!

At last the game starts. Look at them strut. Colman, Edwards, Byrne…Charlton , a mere 3 years older than me and playing in this side. And the lucky raffle winner is….Duncan Edwards. They tore us apart, Charlton getting a goal of such frightening power that “maybe”, we thought, “he hits a ball as hard as big Cliff”, and, as we expected they were 3-0 up at half time. We started wondering what was the worst ever Arsenal defeat at Highbury. Horrible as the score was, we were watching a truly great side and there was a sigh almost of contentment as they trooped off. We were lucky enough to have seen greatness in action.

What may have gone into the Gooners tea at half time is a matter of conjecture….within about 10 minutes the crowd was ecstatic. Not only had we scored against these non- mortals, we’d equalised and had them on the run. David Herd and Jimmy Bloomfield (twice) had done the, what seemed, impossible. Our side was level.

Even a crowd as passionate as that can only keep up such a noise level for so long. An injury, treated as usual with a sponge loaded with iced water, two wild clearances into the stands and a bit of other time wasting, left all of us, players and supporters, shorn of adrenaline and realising that there wasn’t much left in the tank.

Had we shot our collective bolts? It would seem so. Another 10 minutes and we were 2 goals behind again. Violett and Taylor for the second time doing the damage. But the lads had realised by now that they could also play. Up went the sleeves, up again went the tempo and Derek Tapscott got our fourth. We were all berserk as the equaliser refused to come, but we were watching a game where the Arse was taking a better side almost to the cleaners. Almost but not quite and, as usual, the clock decided enough is enough.

We had lost but lost gloriously. Any fan having a voice left, even those up in the directors’ box, might be assumed to be sub normal. Mine for sure was some 3 days getting back to normal…..in time to wail “Oh shit” as I saw the headline of the first newspaper I was supposed to deliver on my 6a.m. morning paper delivery round.

It was the first and only time I ever cried for Manchester United.

GF60 writes;

This was written some 6 years ago and at last we have to concede that St. Tott’s can have a break. But at least we have a pot to show for it and can claim that we’ve won the league, cup and shield on their home ground!

There are no games in the season that fill me with more terror than the Spuds. It’s 90 minutes of having a pulse rate way too high for an old fart, bitten fingernails, and nervous twitches…and that’s when we’re a few goals up.

Yes it has been 10 years almost to the week since the scrawny chickens raised more than a croak in the league against us. Our record since 1999…10 wins, 8 draws 0 defeats. But every year the tension gets higher. Every year, the thought that they could fluke a winning goal against us, or even worse a winning own goal, with their supporters carrying on as though they’ve just won the World Cup, the European Cup and Aunt Gladys’ tea cup, is sufficient to give any Gooner the horrors.

And that’s the biggest problem. Their supporters just have no class. It’s not a question of 3 points…or the loss thereof that fills me with terror. It’s the spuds rattling on ad nauseum that they are North London’s finest.

They do that regardless without even beating us; St Totteringham’s day being an  unfortunate fluke; the absence of a Championship at the slough of despond for 48 years, a mere oversight. Of course we know it’s all bollocks but they still believe that wishing it to happen will make it happen. They are so pathetic.

They still get more pleasure from us being beaten by anybody in preference to their side actually winning a game. Which probably explains why they’re such a miserable shower…they get little in the way of happiness.

My first exposure to a derby probably explains my antipathy to most spud supporters (although many old friends are spuds!). Funny I’ve never disliked the side as such and used to visit regularly when we were away and they were playing some good football back in the 50s and 60s.

It was 1950, I was 8 years old. My gran, a spud I fear to say, had lost the battle for my allegiance 2 years earlier when I was taken to see my first game at Highbury, and decided that my Christmas present should be a seat next to her on the 23rd December.

Equipped with rattle and scarf I was in my element up until the moment that I realised that we’d lost 1-0. Then the tears came. As did the whispered comment from the spiv type sitting next to me, “That’s yer Christmas present yer little Arsenal shit.”

Now I’d never heard the word before and gran hadn’t heard the comment so nothing was said until I got home and asked Mum what a “shit” was. I got a clip around the ear and the warning that I’d get no Christmas presents this year or any other year if I ever said that word again. And the final blow…”no more watching football for you if that’s the sort of language you learn.”

That spud took out about 10 months out of my supporting programme and might explain partly my ethos that “If it’s bad for the spuds, it’s good for Gooners”

Having said that there is a big BUT. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I for one object to the fact that the Chel$kis and Manchester F***** United have taken the spuds previous pride of place in the jeering/taunting stakes. It’s not really our fault, the spuds have been more deserving of sympathy, a pat on the head and “There, there, there” than a good gloat.

They are the real oppo, always have been, always should be. Please may they never screw up another season like 1977/78 and get relegated… because a season without “the terror”, is so terribly boring. But it goes without saying that should the impossible ever happen… we screw up, St Tott’s day does not occur and we’ve been beaten by the spuds… it will be next century already so I can just roll in my grave.

Gf60

(Not quite the right one)

Gf60 writes;

Of old Highbury, Crush barriers, Cliff Holton and Stanley Matthews.

With all-seater grounds, nancyfied and oh so safe, no-one will ever know, again, the thrill of being able to tell the crowd size merely by the pressure on your chest. Seriously.

To illustrate: a big game, the scum for example, meant that you had to get to the ground at least three hours before kick off else risk being locked out. Two hours before hand wouldn’t allow you to get your favourite position without a great deal of manoeuvring.

“Today’s a 65 000.” “Nah, 58 000 at most” We were rarely out by more than a few thousand….bar one dismal day when Leeds came to town back in the 60’s. Figures such as 4 000 didn’t exist other than for the reserve games. Just imagine shortly after the war, the stiffs would pull in crowds of over 30 000 regularly. Days long gone I fear.

Anyway to return to the point.

Cliff Holton was a big lad. More, he had a shot on him that made somebody like Thierry Henry’s look a bit powder puffy. Cliff regrettably had few of TH’s skills but he could play, after a fashion, anywhere from right back to centre forward. He was part of a side that was, to be more than fair, pretty bloody in the mid 1950’s. But it pulled crowds, inevitably over 50 000 and on one particular autumn day, WBA, were the visitors.

In those days, WBA were a bloody good and attractive side…Allen and Griffin being two very sharp forwards so it was a deep breathing crowd…well over 60, 000 and packed like sardines. The crush barriers must have been doing overtime but, because Arsenal was Arsenal, as safe as the monthly safety checks could make them.

For those who don’t know what a crush barrier was, (there are plenty of photos) in brief, a 1/2 inch thickness cast iron 3 inch diameter pipe supported by two triangular supports of similar construct basically formed the barrier. These were staggered all over the terraces, facing the pitch, so when the crowd swayed, moved, tripped, stumbled, slid …all the sorts of things that standing crowds do whilst following the action, the crush barriers barriered and the folks below were uncrushed. Worked very well at the Arsenal 998 times out of 1000.

So back to Cliff and WBA. Kicking towards the Clock end, big Cliff had a chance. About 20 yards out and he meets this half volley as sweetly as a ball has ever been hit. It may well have been doing over 90 mph. Only problem was it was six feet wide of the goal and still rising as it went towards the crowd.

Do you know how quickly jam packed human beings can move when facing that? I kid you not. The ball hit empty concrete terracing….not 1 person within 5 yards of the ball. There they were packed…there they were gone. …sideways. Barriers not much use for sideways movement. ..but they did leave an unforgettable memory for we North Bankers.

And then there was Stanley Matthews….later Sir Stan….the “wizard of dribble”, by then coming up to 40 years old and Blackpool who were also a good attractive side, with Mortenson, Taylor and other quality players. Invariably they were in the top half of the table, then. Strangely, no matter how badly we were playing in the league, we always had a good feeling about Blackpool coming to Highbury. They didn’t like playing there albeit they’d beaten us in a 6^th round Cup Tie 2 years back. This day was no different…we were 3-0 up and going nicely for a change. Matthews hadn’t done much…strangely Dennis Evans who was marking him inevitably played him well.

The crowd, again in the 60,000 region was happy; for once we were going to get 2 points without too much of a panic and a lovely time was being had by all….bar the Blackpool players and supporters. Just as it should be. But a player like Matthews doesn’t get a reputation such as he had without some genius in his feet. He trapped a half volley and in the same movement, went to go inside Dennis. …and the crowd swayed inside to follow the play. Which was why we (the crowd and Dennis) were all off balance when Matthews went the other way. …and we (the crowd and Denis) all finished up on our arses!

It was the most perfect dummy and once again proved that crush barriers were fine for stopping down hill momentum but not too hot at stopping sideways.

There was an interesting footnote to that game. We were 4-0 up and the final whistle went. Every one cheered and Denis who had the ball in our penalty area, celebrating the win, walloped the ball into the net. Consternation. The whistle had come from some clown in the crowd not the ref. Goal awarded…the goal that made the difference to Blackpool finishing third (with the third prize money) and not fourth.

( Stan pursued by Bowen and Dennis)

So today we can expect an official announcement from the club which will confirm that Arsene Wenger will continue as Arsenal manager for at least a further two years. This news will be met by varying degrees of enthusiasm and disappointment across the fanbase, media and social media.

First let me try to make my feelings clear – Yabba Dabba Doo!

This is absolutely a triumph of sense over stupidity. There is no way that our greatest ever manager ,being at the helm for an extended period, can be anything but a tremendous result for the club.

Make no mistake about it, Arsene Wenger is a colossus of an elite manager. In fact he is the very epitome of “elite manager”. I believe he is every bit as good as he ever was, all this bollocks about him being past his best is just that – BOLLOCKS.

Lets consider for a moment who wanted him out.

We can start with the easy and obvious target, the absolute melts on AFTV. Seriously, just look at and listen to this shower of Muppets. I seriously doubt any of them could tie their own shoelaces, and they must surely have supervised meal times.  They have consistently embarrassed the lot of us by association to the club. They claim Arsenal are mocked by fans of other clubs, well too right they are, and they are the main reason. People defend Robbie, saying he gives the fans a “voice”, but he doesn’t, he give a select few idiots a platform. He cultivated the stupidity, it’s his garden, they are his weeds. He could have taken AFTV in any direction, but he chose to make it The Jeremy Kyle Show.

The vast majority of Arsenal bloggers haven’t helped either. These special leaders of opinion have taken every opportunity to show us how smart they are and how stupid Arsene and the board are.  They spout their expert opinions on failures in tactics formation, fitness, players, finance, well everything really, and most of them are doing it for no other reason than to let the readers know how much they understand about football. The problem is it actually shows anyone with an ounce of sense the very opposite. They know nothing worthwhile. Nothing. Zilch !

Podcasters, see above, except they love the sound of their own voices as well. Again, I have to say “most of them” As with bloggers,  there are some rare exceptions to the rule.

Pundits?!?!?! . We are served up with what can only be described as a bunch of tossers that think management is “paint by number” . Forget Arsene for a moment and see how they have now collectively decided Pep doesn’t understand English football. The qualification for the job appears to be that they once played football and are incapable of actually doing a job in management. Their stupidity is without bounds . To be fair, they get nothing right, it’s just we notice their crapness more when they speak about our own specialised subject. The Arsenal.

Twitter super fans. These might just be the worst of the lot, they are known for nothing in life apart from their hatred of Arsene Wenger. They are an embarrassing stain on Arsenal’s underpants.

Just watch them all start playing the victims now and claiming they did it for the love of the club. Well no, they did it because they are no marks that saw an opportunity to become somebodys. And guess what? They will all be fuming because the club has recognised they are nobodies and ignored their pathetic drivel. I don’t care how many readers, listeners of followers they have, they are important only in their own minds and to the sheeple that are stupid enough to be led by the nose and accept the bilge they spew.

Where do we go from here then? Do we say “let’s forget that they did everything possible to destroy our season and move on” ? Well no, because they won’t move on, they are defined by the toxic atmosphere they created. They are nothing without it. They will cling to it like Ishmael clinging to the wreckage of their sunken protests. There is no point offering an olive branch because they don’t want to grasp it.

All we can do is try to ignore them. Those that backed the manager and those that respectfully wanted a change can come together. The decision has been made. Lets move along together, And here is the important part – Give the club and the team the best atmosphere to thrive in.

Just last Saturday we got a glimpse of what the team is capable of. We saw Arsene’s vision of how he want’s his team to play. We have won 3 trophies in the 4 years since spending restrictions were loosened. But we are told we are regressing. Bloody hell. It makes my head spin.

I got asked a question on twitter (loaded of course) it was “do you really think Wenger will win the PL in the next 2 years”. My answer is no, I don’t believe he will. But what I do believe is Arsene gives us the best chance to defy the odds and win it. We might spend £100m in this window, but City (for example) with one of the best managers in the world. with a squad already packed full of hugely expensive players, will spend £300m. So I “expect” a team like them to win it. But I hope our continuity and the brilliance of Arsene can do the business.

It’s clear there has been a disagreement at board level about something. However Arsene is unlikely to either tell us about it or allow anyone else to do so. Whatever it was Arsene has prevailed. There will be no Director of Football selecting transfers and deciding who should be sold, sense has won the day and whatever faults Kroenke might have he has backed the proven winner. There may be casualties, but at least we can be confident that when push comes to shove, Stan knows what is in the best interests of our great club. And that is Arsene Wenger, all day, every day and twice on match days.

That’s it then, everyone that can come behind the manager, players and club have this opportunity to do so. We should take it and ignore the proven failures that refuse to want to support unconditionally.

Did I mention I was happy?

Arse_or_Brain writes;

It is fitting with all the talk of players turning up for big games that Steww and Andy have produced some excellent pieces in the last two days, in fact in a difficult season all the writers this year have been fantastic bringing their own particular expertise to look at the issues from slightly different angles.
Being positive gooners it is difficult to admit before a game you think there is only a small chance of winning, even if you know your team have the potential to beat anyone on their day. The magnitude of this victory has not been realised amongst the media and the dark parasites of the ARSENAL following, to lose three centre backs and a left back in the week leading up to the final would destroy most teams, add that to the fact you would be playing the newly crowned champions of the hardest league in the world seemed to make the task impossible. When you look back at the game and realise the 2-1 score flattered Chelski and in reality the ref could had disallowed the goal and we still could of walked of at half time three or four up.

Again and again when our historic manager and his current team are slagged off or are pegged back they find the resolve to come through and show the top, top quality many deny they have. To see the most rubbished duo Ramsey and Giroud again win the cup for their Manager and our famous club would make a better film than Leicester.

 
I screamed so hard yesterday and went through the ringer during the ninety minutes so much I was  physically drained and felt crap when I got up this morning. When you invest not money but heart into something, see it struggle and then win against all odds the feeling is ecstasy. It is what is missing from those who believe buying your way to pots is the only route to football happiness. They are wrong, missing the point and denying themselves football heaven which is achievable by any club at any level and the reason why we have ninety-two professional clubs and an amazing amateur league, reserve and youth league. The chance of that football heaven is why they are all so amazingly supported.

I thought that the 79 final was the greatest ever but to honest it was the final minutes yesterday however was awesome. Our club is in great hands our team is still top quality, this site has held together many friends from all over the place when we felt a little blue,

I love Positively ARSENAL I love the ARSENAL COYG.

Good morning Positive fans (and friends),

Every one of you saw the game. Every one of you was delighted to see us take hold of the initiative from the opening moments of the game and barely relinquish that vice like grip until the 94 minute. There was no trace of nerves. There was no inkling that our back three had not played together 40 times this season, a model of concentration, a pattern of clockwork efficiency. The sneering references to Granit Xhaka as the season’s worst purchase confined forever to the dustbin of media punditry. And Alexis ? He may stay, he may go, but I can recall no player savaging the opposition at Wembley with such persistence and inexhaustible imagination. Mesut “disappears” in big games …… “Nickin’ a living” ?!?! You will have your own favourites and moments of the day. And yes it really could have been 5 or 6 goals.

It was a tense afternoon, no point in denying it. The first time since the 80’s that we have gone into a domestic Final as the clear under-dogs. Every one of you then watched our players cavort, our fans scream with joy, and saw that Arsene had grown six inches in the space of 24 hours. Football that we could enjoy, a victory to be relished. Every one of you was as proud as I was. The record is set down, forever.

Is there more to say ? Probably not but I am in the mood.

Of our opponents ? I do not think Chelsea were that bad. While they had played far fewer games than us this season I think the had emptied their ‘tank’ over the League season. They did not have it in them for one more battle and Wembley is a big pitch with no corners to hide in. I thought Pedro was good and so, in his own lunatic way, was Diego. I shall miss the ugly, cheating, vicious bastard for reasons I don’t understand myself. Victor Moses’ red card was a pleasure in itself. No Chelsea fan I know, or even have read on social media, had any doubts that it was the right decision and the proper punishment. May the force be with the referees in the opening weeks of next season.

One thing that did strike me yesterday, during the game and with about 10 minutes to go, 22 superb athletes who have each invested years of their lives to be here today, looking at the stadium, the fans, pacing my domestic technical area, frantic, feeling the tension, feeling the COMMITMENT. Whatever I pay for this, whatever anyone pays for this, for all its faults – it is WORTH IT!!

I attach below a copy of a picture I have had in the desk draw for a while. It is Avenell Road before an Arsenal and Spurs game in 1948. It occurred to me, in the light of Stew’s references to the unbroken line of the fan, and of era and fashion, success and failure being twin imposters, and Gf60s earliest attendance, it is best out of the desk draw today.

I shall leave it there. I suspect we have a busy week so enjoy your Sunday.