....has gone to goonersdiary.blogspot.com
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Thursday, December 08, 2005
More A 'No Contest' Than A Championship Bout
It was ironic that they wheeled out Danny Williams at half-time at THOF tonight, as I wouldn't be at all surprised if Saturday's "big fight" with Audley Harrison proves a similarly tedious, uneventful anti-climax, with each of the contestants shadow boxing their way through the evening waiting for t'other to make a fight of it!
I guess we shouldn't be too surprised, with both teams having nothing to play for. However I was very disappointed afterwards to discover that if Thierry's penalty had gone a few inches to the left, we would have joined only four other teams to ever achieve maximum points in the Champions League group stage. What's more Titi would have been one game away from setting a 22 match record for goals in successive European games (which is the sort of record you can't imagine him coming anywhere near so close to again in a hurry!)
To be honest I was so unenthralled by events out on the park, that I spent much of the match distracted by the commentary in the earpiece of my terrace tranny from the Stadium of Light. I am sure most Gooners are in unanimous agreement that this was indeed the best result of the night. Although I purposely prevented myself from getting too animated about it, as I was almost certain Utd were going to sneak a pretty typical last leap from this particular frying pan. Fergie must have had the stopwatch out standing on the touchline, as believe it or not, they were still playing six minutes of extra time in Lisbon as we left THOF.
The whistle finally blew at the Stadium of Light as we exited the Clock End concourse and I couldn't help announcing to all and sundry that the old enemy would not only be "watching Eastenders" but the entire weeks worth of soaps for the remainder of this season, as they were bounced out of Europe all together, bottom of their group. The exultant guffaws of Shadenfreude echoed along the corridor as the gleeful news spread like the loudest Chinese whisper you ever heard.
It was the sort of news you just couldn't hear enough of and absolutely every Gooner was left making their way home with huge grins across the width of their gobs! We were due to meet up for some pasta at the local Italian but I was half tempted to take a rain check, just so I could get home in time savour the Mancunian misery on the box. Actually I'd been fretting for much of the evening about forgetting my plastic, with which I was going to pay for our grub. But as it turned out, even with it pissing down, I was only too happy to have an excuse to dash back home to grab the credit card, as I was just in time to catch ol' Red Nose's melancholy requiem for the Champions League, along with the convoluted last rites for their involvement in any European competition, read by their plug ugly new skipper.
Wallowing in the Moaners misfortune reminds me of one of my dear departed old man's favourite "meises" (stories - for the uninitiated into the less globalised yiddish vocabulary) and since today would've been his birthday, you'll have to forgive me my sentimental celebration in repeating it here. Mr Cohen walks into his local bank and ask the counter staff if he can speak to Mr Hawkins the manager. "I am terribly sorry" says the teller "unfortunately Mr Hawkins passed away last week". With this news the old boy duly buggers off. But then he's in and out of his branch umpteen times the same day, on each occasion he poses the same question and it's explained to him that the manager has shuffled off this mortal coil. Eventually the counter staff loses patience "Mr Cohen, we've told you fifteen times today that sadly Mr Hawkins is dead". Upon which he chirps up "I know, but I just love to hear it!"
Now if only it was this weekend that we were travelling North with a train crammed full of Cockney Reds, instead of last week's awayday to the Reebok. What fun we'd have over the course of three hours, constantly piping up "Who'd you fancy playing come the draw Friday week for the knockout stages? Or did I ask you already!" :-)
I guess the Moaners will be joining Spurs supporters and fans of all the other clubs who've no Continental competition, in focusing on this Friday's draw for some far off footie fest in Germany this summer. I wonder how many Gooners will give a monkeys about such an irrelevant event, when we've far more important matters to focus on. Unfortunately (as far as I'm concerned), I'm led to believe that a return to Bratwurstland is probably our best bet. I know Werder Bremen banged five past Panathinaikos, but Bayern have become a bit of a bogey team. Of the six team we could draw (PSV, Real Madrid, Rangers, Bayern Munich, Werder Bremen, Benfica) there a 33 per cent chance of a German side and apparently when you look at who our prospective opponents cannot play, these odds become even greater (although I have to rely on those whose head doesn't explode when they try to contemplate the various possible permutations in the whole complicated schemozzle!)
However if I had a choice it would either be Real Madrid or Benfica. Aside from the fact that these two are I believe the most southernly possibilities and therefore perhaps offering the prospect of a jolly to slightly warmer climes, personally I've been dying to see the Arsenal play in the Bernabeu, for what feels like donkeys years, as it must be one of the few major footballing temples across the Continent that I've yet to worship the Arsenal at. And each season I've been more certain than the last that this will be my opportunity. With managerless Real Madrid hitting such a rocky patch right now, not to mention the fact that at long last, for once Lady Luck seems to be gracing us with some good favours in the Champions League, there might never be a better time for a beano in the Bernabeu.
As for Benfica, with the Stadium of Light being built by the same architects, it would be brilliant to get some idea what going to a game at our new gaff is going to be like. Better still would be an opportunity to show Utd how to do it, by blowing away their bête noire.
The consensus of opinion from the few I've broached on the subject suggests many Gooners would fancy us pulling Rangers out of the hat. I'm wondering whether this is because they're thinking it would be easy for them (or cheap?) to get to, but I would guess it might be more expensive to fly (and certainly by train!) to Glasgow, than a budget flight abroad. Moreover, although Rangers might appear a plum draw on paper, with their woeful record in Europe and their recent lamentable league form, personally I'd favour a far more glamorous opponent. I believe Rangers would be a no win situation, because we'd be expected to brush them aside and so if we manage to do so, we will hardly enhance our reputation. I also imagine we'd be likely to play down to their level, as they attempt to muscle us out of the match and clatter us out of the Champs League.
The thing is that if we are going to get anywhere in this competition, we are going to have to find the confidence to cope with proper competition and in my opinion, since we are already perceived to have progressed from the easiest group, the sooner we establish a reputation and begin scaring future opponents by blasting past some of the big guns, the better.
Meanwhile, watching from behind the goal in the Clock End, I might be slowly achieving my objective of working my way around the ground and getting a last chance to watch the Arsenal from every possible perspective at THOF.Although I was a little disappointed that my brief Clock End sojourn wasn't a little more atmospheric. Some of the Ajax coaches were arriving and parking up along Drayton Park when I passed by on my way to work this morning and so I was expecting them to sound hale and hearty, having doubtless spent the entire day oiling their vocal chords. However I was hoping the response from the home crowd would've been a little more raucous. Yet I enjoyed my participation in the Clock End choir, it certainly made a change from my West Upper solo performances.
Yet it proved a reminder why I prefer the posher seats along the side of the pitch because when it came to some post-match analysis with a few pals, I suddenly realised I didn't really have a clue that we were playing an extremely rare alternate formation. Apparently Arsène for once forsook his favoured 4-4-2, but I am not sure this was intended to be for 4-5-1. The sight of Le Prof popping out of the dug out, to repeatedly stand on the side of the pitch screaming at his charges and frantically gesturing some of them forward, this would suggest that the intention was for them to play more 4-3-3 . Although I have some sympathy for the kids at the club who've spent their entire careers at Highbury religiously schooled in the one regular Arsenal formation, only to be asked to do something completely different for their Champions League debuts!
From where we sat, all I can tell you is that in my humble opinion, apart from one suicidal pass towards the end, Phillipe Senderos looked extremely sharp. Admittedly Phillipe was clattered just prior, but whether the Swiss lad learnt his trade in French, German or Swahili, surely he would've been indoctrinated with the schoolboy commandment (I know I was) that makes passing across the face of one's own goal absolutely sacrosanct? However I'm happy Arsène has finally given Phillipe a run out. With Kolo off to the African Nations (perhaps for the entire duration of January considering the fortuitous prospects of the Les Elephantes), I've been fretting about Wenger leaving Senderos out until he's forced to bring him back, cold, without much confidence after such a long lay-off. To my mind the fact that he looks sharp as a bell, is only further argument for playing him as Campbell's partner and making use of Kolo's versatility at left-back
Sadly I didn't get to see Kerrea Gilbert's apparently impressive performance against Reading in this position (as I believe he's a RB by trade) but he also looked pretty bright tonight and unlike poor Pascal, at least Gilbert has plenty of pace to burn. Personally I'd be much happier seeing him or any sprightly youngster instead of Cygan, because at least if a kid's going to make mistakes, there's some consolation in knowing that they're hopefully going to learn from their errors. Whereas if Wenger insists on stubbornly sticking with the hapless Cygan, he's soon going to end up such a hate figure, that his career will be consigned to the same Arsenal history as Stepanovs (whatever happened to Igor?)
Arsène's other completely unfathomable preference recently has been the lack of game time given to Robin Van Persie. To my mind Robin appears to be in such an incredibly hot streak of form right now, that every ball runs his way. Whereas for example you can almost guarantee that if Dennis try's a ting against a couple of defenders, he's going to be undone by a dodgy bounce of the ball off one of the defenders shins. Whereas by contrast Van Persie appears unable to do any wrong. From what I've gleaned of such hot streaks of form, they don't last ad infinitum. If they did you can be sure the gamblers of the world would've long since broken the bank of Monte Carlo. So for gawd's sake gaffer, just play him, play him, play him! Otherwise you could end up denying him game time, just long enough for his form to take that almost inevitable dive into the doldrums. I can only imagine that Wenger's adopted this strategy of limiting Robin's pitch time, for fear of giving him his head, in case he loses it? Or at least that's my suspicion from report's of Robin's wayward nature. Hopefully Jose's injury misery will prove Van Persie's good fortune for the immediate future.
I only hope I am at St James Park to find out in person. Yet another awkward kick-off time, at the other end of the country this weekend, ensures that we Gooners can't get home the same night by public transport. I'd actually probably quite enjoy a Saturday night out in Toon Town, seeking out the company of some friendly Geordie fillies in their white stilettos and fishnet stockings (doubtless on a freezing cold night when I will be snugly ensconced in my thermals). Apparently it's just a matter of finding the handbags on the floor, to discover this hardy Toon tribe dancing around them. However I am not sure my missus would approve of this sort of nocturnal bird watching of the non-feathered variety, especially approaching Xmas, with so many likely to be lagging drunk, staggering around looking for the nearest nest. More's the point I can't afford wasting (any more of!!!) Barclaycard's bread, if they are going to cough up for our flights in February to the Continent
It's been many years since I last took a Travel Club coach and I am not sure I could bear an eleven hour round trip (all being well!) cramped up on one of these. Normally I wouldn't think twice about pootling up their in our little Fiesta, but it's beginning to show its age and not only did I hear a nasty clunk from the axle area, which would have me paranoid about schlepping to Tyneside in it, it really needs a couple of new tyres before I'd contemplate a 550 mile drive on icy winter roads.
So if there are any Gooners who should happen to read this and are contemplating travelling to Toon town Saturday, be sure to get back to me if there's any prospect of accompanying you
Peace & Love
Bernard
I guess we shouldn't be too surprised, with both teams having nothing to play for. However I was very disappointed afterwards to discover that if Thierry's penalty had gone a few inches to the left, we would have joined only four other teams to ever achieve maximum points in the Champions League group stage. What's more Titi would have been one game away from setting a 22 match record for goals in successive European games (which is the sort of record you can't imagine him coming anywhere near so close to again in a hurry!)
To be honest I was so unenthralled by events out on the park, that I spent much of the match distracted by the commentary in the earpiece of my terrace tranny from the Stadium of Light. I am sure most Gooners are in unanimous agreement that this was indeed the best result of the night. Although I purposely prevented myself from getting too animated about it, as I was almost certain Utd were going to sneak a pretty typical last leap from this particular frying pan. Fergie must have had the stopwatch out standing on the touchline, as believe it or not, they were still playing six minutes of extra time in Lisbon as we left THOF.
The whistle finally blew at the Stadium of Light as we exited the Clock End concourse and I couldn't help announcing to all and sundry that the old enemy would not only be "watching Eastenders" but the entire weeks worth of soaps for the remainder of this season, as they were bounced out of Europe all together, bottom of their group. The exultant guffaws of Shadenfreude echoed along the corridor as the gleeful news spread like the loudest Chinese whisper you ever heard.
It was the sort of news you just couldn't hear enough of and absolutely every Gooner was left making their way home with huge grins across the width of their gobs! We were due to meet up for some pasta at the local Italian but I was half tempted to take a rain check, just so I could get home in time savour the Mancunian misery on the box. Actually I'd been fretting for much of the evening about forgetting my plastic, with which I was going to pay for our grub. But as it turned out, even with it pissing down, I was only too happy to have an excuse to dash back home to grab the credit card, as I was just in time to catch ol' Red Nose's melancholy requiem for the Champions League, along with the convoluted last rites for their involvement in any European competition, read by their plug ugly new skipper.
Wallowing in the Moaners misfortune reminds me of one of my dear departed old man's favourite "meises" (stories - for the uninitiated into the less globalised yiddish vocabulary) and since today would've been his birthday, you'll have to forgive me my sentimental celebration in repeating it here. Mr Cohen walks into his local bank and ask the counter staff if he can speak to Mr Hawkins the manager. "I am terribly sorry" says the teller "unfortunately Mr Hawkins passed away last week". With this news the old boy duly buggers off. But then he's in and out of his branch umpteen times the same day, on each occasion he poses the same question and it's explained to him that the manager has shuffled off this mortal coil. Eventually the counter staff loses patience "Mr Cohen, we've told you fifteen times today that sadly Mr Hawkins is dead". Upon which he chirps up "I know, but I just love to hear it!"
Now if only it was this weekend that we were travelling North with a train crammed full of Cockney Reds, instead of last week's awayday to the Reebok. What fun we'd have over the course of three hours, constantly piping up "Who'd you fancy playing come the draw Friday week for the knockout stages? Or did I ask you already!" :-)
I guess the Moaners will be joining Spurs supporters and fans of all the other clubs who've no Continental competition, in focusing on this Friday's draw for some far off footie fest in Germany this summer. I wonder how many Gooners will give a monkeys about such an irrelevant event, when we've far more important matters to focus on. Unfortunately (as far as I'm concerned), I'm led to believe that a return to Bratwurstland is probably our best bet. I know Werder Bremen banged five past Panathinaikos, but Bayern have become a bit of a bogey team. Of the six team we could draw (PSV, Real Madrid, Rangers, Bayern Munich, Werder Bremen, Benfica) there a 33 per cent chance of a German side and apparently when you look at who our prospective opponents cannot play, these odds become even greater (although I have to rely on those whose head doesn't explode when they try to contemplate the various possible permutations in the whole complicated schemozzle!)
However if I had a choice it would either be Real Madrid or Benfica. Aside from the fact that these two are I believe the most southernly possibilities and therefore perhaps offering the prospect of a jolly to slightly warmer climes, personally I've been dying to see the Arsenal play in the Bernabeu, for what feels like donkeys years, as it must be one of the few major footballing temples across the Continent that I've yet to worship the Arsenal at. And each season I've been more certain than the last that this will be my opportunity. With managerless Real Madrid hitting such a rocky patch right now, not to mention the fact that at long last, for once Lady Luck seems to be gracing us with some good favours in the Champions League, there might never be a better time for a beano in the Bernabeu.
As for Benfica, with the Stadium of Light being built by the same architects, it would be brilliant to get some idea what going to a game at our new gaff is going to be like. Better still would be an opportunity to show Utd how to do it, by blowing away their bête noire.
The consensus of opinion from the few I've broached on the subject suggests many Gooners would fancy us pulling Rangers out of the hat. I'm wondering whether this is because they're thinking it would be easy for them (or cheap?) to get to, but I would guess it might be more expensive to fly (and certainly by train!) to Glasgow, than a budget flight abroad. Moreover, although Rangers might appear a plum draw on paper, with their woeful record in Europe and their recent lamentable league form, personally I'd favour a far more glamorous opponent. I believe Rangers would be a no win situation, because we'd be expected to brush them aside and so if we manage to do so, we will hardly enhance our reputation. I also imagine we'd be likely to play down to their level, as they attempt to muscle us out of the match and clatter us out of the Champs League.
The thing is that if we are going to get anywhere in this competition, we are going to have to find the confidence to cope with proper competition and in my opinion, since we are already perceived to have progressed from the easiest group, the sooner we establish a reputation and begin scaring future opponents by blasting past some of the big guns, the better.
Meanwhile, watching from behind the goal in the Clock End, I might be slowly achieving my objective of working my way around the ground and getting a last chance to watch the Arsenal from every possible perspective at THOF.Although I was a little disappointed that my brief Clock End sojourn wasn't a little more atmospheric. Some of the Ajax coaches were arriving and parking up along Drayton Park when I passed by on my way to work this morning and so I was expecting them to sound hale and hearty, having doubtless spent the entire day oiling their vocal chords. However I was hoping the response from the home crowd would've been a little more raucous. Yet I enjoyed my participation in the Clock End choir, it certainly made a change from my West Upper solo performances.
Yet it proved a reminder why I prefer the posher seats along the side of the pitch because when it came to some post-match analysis with a few pals, I suddenly realised I didn't really have a clue that we were playing an extremely rare alternate formation. Apparently Arsène for once forsook his favoured 4-4-2, but I am not sure this was intended to be for 4-5-1. The sight of Le Prof popping out of the dug out, to repeatedly stand on the side of the pitch screaming at his charges and frantically gesturing some of them forward, this would suggest that the intention was for them to play more 4-3-3 . Although I have some sympathy for the kids at the club who've spent their entire careers at Highbury religiously schooled in the one regular Arsenal formation, only to be asked to do something completely different for their Champions League debuts!
From where we sat, all I can tell you is that in my humble opinion, apart from one suicidal pass towards the end, Phillipe Senderos looked extremely sharp. Admittedly Phillipe was clattered just prior, but whether the Swiss lad learnt his trade in French, German or Swahili, surely he would've been indoctrinated with the schoolboy commandment (I know I was) that makes passing across the face of one's own goal absolutely sacrosanct? However I'm happy Arsène has finally given Phillipe a run out. With Kolo off to the African Nations (perhaps for the entire duration of January considering the fortuitous prospects of the Les Elephantes), I've been fretting about Wenger leaving Senderos out until he's forced to bring him back, cold, without much confidence after such a long lay-off. To my mind the fact that he looks sharp as a bell, is only further argument for playing him as Campbell's partner and making use of Kolo's versatility at left-back
Sadly I didn't get to see Kerrea Gilbert's apparently impressive performance against Reading in this position (as I believe he's a RB by trade) but he also looked pretty bright tonight and unlike poor Pascal, at least Gilbert has plenty of pace to burn. Personally I'd be much happier seeing him or any sprightly youngster instead of Cygan, because at least if a kid's going to make mistakes, there's some consolation in knowing that they're hopefully going to learn from their errors. Whereas if Wenger insists on stubbornly sticking with the hapless Cygan, he's soon going to end up such a hate figure, that his career will be consigned to the same Arsenal history as Stepanovs (whatever happened to Igor?)
Arsène's other completely unfathomable preference recently has been the lack of game time given to Robin Van Persie. To my mind Robin appears to be in such an incredibly hot streak of form right now, that every ball runs his way. Whereas for example you can almost guarantee that if Dennis try's a ting against a couple of defenders, he's going to be undone by a dodgy bounce of the ball off one of the defenders shins. Whereas by contrast Van Persie appears unable to do any wrong. From what I've gleaned of such hot streaks of form, they don't last ad infinitum. If they did you can be sure the gamblers of the world would've long since broken the bank of Monte Carlo. So for gawd's sake gaffer, just play him, play him, play him! Otherwise you could end up denying him game time, just long enough for his form to take that almost inevitable dive into the doldrums. I can only imagine that Wenger's adopted this strategy of limiting Robin's pitch time, for fear of giving him his head, in case he loses it? Or at least that's my suspicion from report's of Robin's wayward nature. Hopefully Jose's injury misery will prove Van Persie's good fortune for the immediate future.
I only hope I am at St James Park to find out in person. Yet another awkward kick-off time, at the other end of the country this weekend, ensures that we Gooners can't get home the same night by public transport. I'd actually probably quite enjoy a Saturday night out in Toon Town, seeking out the company of some friendly Geordie fillies in their white stilettos and fishnet stockings (doubtless on a freezing cold night when I will be snugly ensconced in my thermals). Apparently it's just a matter of finding the handbags on the floor, to discover this hardy Toon tribe dancing around them. However I am not sure my missus would approve of this sort of nocturnal bird watching of the non-feathered variety, especially approaching Xmas, with so many likely to be lagging drunk, staggering around looking for the nearest nest. More's the point I can't afford wasting (any more of!!!) Barclaycard's bread, if they are going to cough up for our flights in February to the Continent
It's been many years since I last took a Travel Club coach and I am not sure I could bear an eleven hour round trip (all being well!) cramped up on one of these. Normally I wouldn't think twice about pootling up their in our little Fiesta, but it's beginning to show its age and not only did I hear a nasty clunk from the axle area, which would have me paranoid about schlepping to Tyneside in it, it really needs a couple of new tyres before I'd contemplate a 550 mile drive on icy winter roads.
So if there are any Gooners who should happen to read this and are contemplating travelling to Toon town Saturday, be sure to get back to me if there's any prospect of accompanying you
Peace & Love
Bernard
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
We All Agree….(well everyone accept Arsène!)
Standing opposite the Reebok Stadium late Saturday afternoon, in a lengthy queue at Horwich Parkway station, with it raining cats and dogs and with the Trotters' fans merrily taking the Mickey, I was relieved not to be one of the "cockney bastards" mentioned in their misogynistic ditty. Otherwise, after such a disheartening performance, I might indeed have been dashing home to "bash the missus"!
I thought I'd seen the last of the pestering text messages from one of my Tottenham pals, when we leapfrogged them in the league a couple of weeks back. I'd bid their challenge adieu with the response "See ya, wouldn't want to be ya!" But waiting in a queue which wasn't dissipating, with the freezing rain dripping down my neck, as I fretted about making it to Manchester in time to catch a connecting train that would get me back to London some 5 hours later, my mood wasn't improved when the bleep on the phone announced the arrival of his "Check the tables" text which confirmed my worst fears.
Mind you there's some silver lining to slipping back behind Spurs in the league, as this merely gives us another opportunity to gloat when we snuff out their renewed glimmer of hope. Although such thoughts were of little consolation on such a gloomy Lancashire evening. I've been following Arsenal long enough to suffer the slings and arrows of football's outrageous fortunes with good grace. Thus it wasn't so much the bad result against Bolton which bothered me so, but the marrowless manner of the defeat, as we buckled with a whimper instead of a cry.
"Be first" is customarily one of my initial cries of encouragement. Yet such good advice evidently fell on deaf ears on Saturday. We endured a first-half where we struggled to get past the halfway line, against a Bolton side that bettered us with their work-rate, hunger and commitment. In fact my best hope was that the Trotters might struggle to maintain this intensity for the entire 90. And this appeared to be the case as the Arsenal came back into the match after the break. But no sooner had we begun to impose our superior ball skills, than the head of steam we were building evaporated completely, with Arsène's absolutely baffling substitutions.
As far as I'm concerned Dennis Bergkamp will always be one of the greatest ever players to don the red & white. Nevertheless I couldn't possibly fathom Wenger's justification for removing Robin Van Persie, who, with 7 goals in 7 games, is in the best form of his brief career and replacing him with Bergkamp, who hasn't found the back of a Premiership net all season. What's more Lauren was probably the best of a bad bunch before the break. At right-back, Ralphie's probably the
only member of our back-line who's far enough away from the hapless Pascal Cygan that he hasn't been affected by the sort of collywobbles that are responsible for the calamitous defending on the other side of the park.
Perhaps Arsène was hoping that with the enthusiasm and fearlessness of youth, Manny Eboué might inject a little inspiration. Yet I wouldn't have thought there's an Arsenal fan on this planet who felt the answer to our problems was more attacking instincts on our RIGHT flank. You won't catch me chortling again in future when Le Prof claims not to have seen an incident on the pitch. The evidence of the past couple of weeks would suggest that Wenger's not merely visually challenged, but that he suffers from completely myopic blind spots as far as his bald countryman's incompetence as cover at left-back is concerned.
Time was when the disaster of going 2-0 down away from home would have most Gooners glued to their seats, in the hope of savouring the prospect of an enthralling fight-back. Whereas they were departing the Reebok in their droves, long before the final whistle. There's a surfeit of talent in this Arsenal side, capable of turning it on when the going is good. But for some time now we've been bemoaning the absence of that vital backbone of players (no matter what nationality!) capable of rolling their sleeves up and inspiring their colleagues to battle their way back into a game. Consequently, almost from the moment Arsène made his meshugana 70th minute substitutions on Saturday, instead of roaring them on to at least try and rescue some pride, sadly both the Arsenal's fans and players alike appeared to be enveloped by a miserable air of resignation.
With a copper hollering at us not to rush and high-spirited Wanderers' fans questioning his confident contention "You'll all get on", mercifully we were eventually getting excruciatingly intimate with some of the Trotters on a train to Manchester. The steamed up windows in a carriage full of damp and sodden passengers, ensured that we were pulling into the station before it dawned on us that this wasn't Piccadilly. Desperate to make it onto a train home before the match ended at Old Trafford, we dived into a taxi for a dash across town.
It was bad enough that the "dry" train to London prevented many from drowning their sorrows. But at least we avoided the prospect of angry Gooners venting their frustrations in an inevitable contretemps with the hordes of jubilant Cockney Reds who'd accompanied us on our outward journey.
I'd spent much of the previous week in bed, after being struck down by a particularly virulent bug. As a result I really should've remained at home in the warm. Taking three points from the Reebok would've been well worth a relapse. Yet I ended up feeling foolish after risking my health for that load of old tosh. Still I couldn't resist masochistically enduring the highlights replayed on a recording of MOTD. I sat there wondering if the likes of Gilberto was similarly unable to slip into the welcoming arms of Morpheus until he'd analysed his woeful performance. I somehow doubt it!
To be honest, until Hansen tore him to bits in his TV analysis, I didn't think Cygan had that bad a game. Like every other Gooner I sat there groaning, as the ball seemed to constantly gravitate towards him. Yet in truth this was probably due to the fact that the bald defender was at least doing his best, while some of his teammates were patently guilty of hiding. However, as sympathetic as I may be to the centre-back's "fish out of water" plight, by half-time I was considering passing the hat around to pay a Wanderers' player to put Pascal out of action for a few weeks, or at least until after Chelsea's visit.
Cygan's lack of pace and the fact that he has the turning circle of an oil tanker are only compounding our defensive problems. However with the same unshakeable conviction that's been the foundation stone for his success, Arsène appears to stubbornly refute the possibility that Pascal not only lacks the attributes necessary to play at left-back, but that his inclusion as cover in this position is destabilising the entire team. Personally I don't think he's doing his compatriot any favours. We've seen far worse centre-backs in the Arsenal squad over the years. But Cygan is fast becoming such a scapegoat for the fans and a subject for so much ridicule, that the poor feller will soon have no future at the club, because he'll be unplayable in any position.
Meanwhile I've been going greyer by the week watching our opponents target our obvious weakness on this flank. By the time Mourinho brings his Blues to Highbury with the prospect of Duff, Robben and Wright-Phillips tearing past the leaden-footed lummox, I will undoubtedly be as bald as the slaphead himself!
________________________________________________________________
Hi Folks
Fulminating the entire length of a four hour train ride back from Bolton, I was fit to burst by the time I'd got home and endured a replay of the highlights on MOTD. However I was glad I resisted the temptation to grab my laptop and vent my fury there and then, or else this would've undoubtedly resulted in one interminable whinge.
Hopefully some 48 hours later I'm able to put Saturday's match into some perspective. There are some Gooners who will contend that the defeat against Bolton has put the kibbosh on any remaining pretensions of recapturing the Premiership title and who believe that Arsène is only really interested in the one silver pot which contines to elude him.
Ever since Dennis Bergkamp poked home a 90th minute get-out-of-jail card for the ten man Arsenal, against the Swiss minnows in our first European match, I've fancied that in a season when we are least favoured for success by the pundits, maybe, just maybe Lady Luck might favour us with the sort of good fortune which could surprise a few people. However considering how elusive success is in the Champions League, when all hopes in the knockout stages can disappear up in smoke with one dodgy performance, personally I feel it would be a bit foolish for us to forget the Premiership and dump all our hopes in the Champions League basket
Hopefully Saturday's match might prove the sort of timely kick up the backside we've required in seasons past, when it's taken just such a thoroughly comprehensive lesson for us to realise the hard way that you can never expect to earn the points in the Premiership simply for turning up!
It is true that Bolton deserve the plaudits for putting us under the cosh but I find it a bit of a wind up reading all the OTT reports on Sam Allardyce's side remarkable achievement. When in truth the team Wenger put out on Saturday were so devoid of the necessary desire that non-league Tamworth would've probably given us a pasting. In all the remarks I've read lauding Bolton's Vieira mark II, everyone seems to have neglected to mention that their man-mountain Abdoulaye Faye was competing against Cesc Fabregas, the smallest kid on the pitch, when he headed home their first goal!
It was the same against Boro and West Brom, when the media sung the home side's praises for putting one over on the Premiership aristocrats. Obviously I will take it all back if Chelsea go to the Reebok and are similarly undone, or if Bolton come anywhere close to beating the Blues. But I rather suspect the inadequacies of our performance will only be truly revealed when Mourinho's mob make a mockery of Sam Allardyce's simplistic tactics, by matching the home side for work rate and taking all three points without much problem.
Meanwhile it was actually a relief watching MOTD and I just pray Wenger will have heard the post-match comments of Hansen and Lawrensen. If he did, we can but hope that he realises when it comes to his belief that the bald-headed one can play at left-back, contrary to his contention, our Highbury king is indeed as nude as the day he was born. They pointed out the obvious alternative and almost every Gooner I speak to wonders why Wenger appears to be so reluctant to bring back Senderos alongside Campbell and move the versatile and pacy Kolo Touré to left-back
He gave Lauren a brief try in Switzerland the other week and although Ralphie appeared a little uncomfortable at this point in time I'd jump for joy if he played absolutely anyone in the left-back position, instead of having the whole team unnerved by Cygan's flapping "fish out of water" impersonation.
The saddest fact is that in truth poor Pascal doesn't deserve anything like the disapprobation he's bound to be receiving from some of THOF's more fickle fans. I only hope his English isn't up to understanding some of the stick he must be suffering, or that there's an extremely thick skin under that shiny pate. Playing out on the wing, I dread to think of the "f**k off and die" type delightful suggestions being screamed at him by some of THOF's more critical Neanderthals
These days it seems as if there's a "you pays your money, you says what you feel" type attitude amongst many punters on the terraces. Personally I'm a firm believer that it's a big mistake for loyal Gooners to lambast anyone wearing the red & white, as it's hardly likely to encourage them to try harder. But for heaven's sake it's decidedly unfair to dish it out to a player for his lack of g-d given ability, when he's grafting his socks off and obviously trying his best.
I'm not saying I wasn't secretly hoping Cygan would get sent off on Saturday, or that I wasn't cursing under my breath every time the bald headed berk went anywhere near the ball. But in such circumstances when his confidence is taking such a battering, while the poor geezer is wearing the shirt, he needs all the support he can get!
To my mind if I was going to have a go at anyone at the Reebok, it was Gilberto who was perhaps the most guilty candidate. Was that really a World Cup winner commiting the schoolboy error of giving the ball away over in the corner, when even I know he should've stuck it in row Z (although perhaps he wouldn't have felt the need to be there in the first place if he had more faith in the full-back?). However out loud, I would only ever encourage the most slovenly Arsenal player merely to pull their socks up.
I only hope we don't have to experience a repeat against Chelsea of the sort of 6-1 embarrasment we endured at Old Trafford before Arsène admits the error of his ways and Cygan's career ends up ditched in the same scapegoat dustbin where Wenger dumped Igor Stepanovs!
Meanwhile no matter how tirelessly Henry worked to try and rescue a result, there was no mistaking his head dropping at one stage. I happened to freeze frame the Sky Plus gadget on Thierry's face after Bolton's keeper fingertipped his fabulous shot on to the post and prevented Pires from tapping home the rebound. The exasperated expression on our captain's face spoke volumes! I'm sure Henry's not by nature the sort of arrogant player who would dream of dissing his team mates, but if I had to put his melancholy mush into words it might say "Am I really expected to remain at the Arsenal merely to waste my gifts with weekly recue missions to compensate for the regular cock-ups of some of my infinitely less talented team mates"!
Barcelona appear to be the team of the moment if you want to wallow in some of the world's best fantasy football. With all the rumours about Thierry's imminent departure from THOF in the summer, if I'm watching Barca's weekly appearances on Sky wondering what incredible feats Titi might accomplish if he was being fed by the likes of Messi, Deco and Ronaldihno, surely Thierry must be equally curious?
Whatever the case, no matter how tirelessly Titi continues to graft in the Arsenal's cause, it's enough that his broad shoulders have to carry the goal scoring weight of putting more in the opposition's net than we keep conceding each week. I swear I visibly saw these sag on Saturday, as Thierry trudged back up field after coming back to help out at yet another Bolton set-piece. It's too much to expect him as captain to carry the moral of the entire team as well. Once more we were crying out at the Reebok for the sort of leader who's capable of putting fire in the bellies of the Arsenal's troops from back to front, bellowing at the team mates before him, instead of captain who spends most of the 90 with his back to his colleagues, only capable of trying to inspire them to match his effort.
Still a decent result against the Dutch on Wednesday and doubtless it will all be sweetness and light again. Although with no trains back from Newcastle next Saturday night, it's going to take a much more committed performance to persuade me to drive all the way to Toon town and back
I say bring on the trip to Doncaster Rovers as I can't think of a more punishing reality check for some of our prima donnas
Peace & Love
Bernard
E-mail to: LondonN5@gmail.com
I thought I'd seen the last of the pestering text messages from one of my Tottenham pals, when we leapfrogged them in the league a couple of weeks back. I'd bid their challenge adieu with the response "See ya, wouldn't want to be ya!" But waiting in a queue which wasn't dissipating, with the freezing rain dripping down my neck, as I fretted about making it to Manchester in time to catch a connecting train that would get me back to London some 5 hours later, my mood wasn't improved when the bleep on the phone announced the arrival of his "Check the tables" text which confirmed my worst fears.
Mind you there's some silver lining to slipping back behind Spurs in the league, as this merely gives us another opportunity to gloat when we snuff out their renewed glimmer of hope. Although such thoughts were of little consolation on such a gloomy Lancashire evening. I've been following Arsenal long enough to suffer the slings and arrows of football's outrageous fortunes with good grace. Thus it wasn't so much the bad result against Bolton which bothered me so, but the marrowless manner of the defeat, as we buckled with a whimper instead of a cry.
"Be first" is customarily one of my initial cries of encouragement. Yet such good advice evidently fell on deaf ears on Saturday. We endured a first-half where we struggled to get past the halfway line, against a Bolton side that bettered us with their work-rate, hunger and commitment. In fact my best hope was that the Trotters might struggle to maintain this intensity for the entire 90. And this appeared to be the case as the Arsenal came back into the match after the break. But no sooner had we begun to impose our superior ball skills, than the head of steam we were building evaporated completely, with Arsène's absolutely baffling substitutions.
As far as I'm concerned Dennis Bergkamp will always be one of the greatest ever players to don the red & white. Nevertheless I couldn't possibly fathom Wenger's justification for removing Robin Van Persie, who, with 7 goals in 7 games, is in the best form of his brief career and replacing him with Bergkamp, who hasn't found the back of a Premiership net all season. What's more Lauren was probably the best of a bad bunch before the break. At right-back, Ralphie's probably the
only member of our back-line who's far enough away from the hapless Pascal Cygan that he hasn't been affected by the sort of collywobbles that are responsible for the calamitous defending on the other side of the park.
Perhaps Arsène was hoping that with the enthusiasm and fearlessness of youth, Manny Eboué might inject a little inspiration. Yet I wouldn't have thought there's an Arsenal fan on this planet who felt the answer to our problems was more attacking instincts on our RIGHT flank. You won't catch me chortling again in future when Le Prof claims not to have seen an incident on the pitch. The evidence of the past couple of weeks would suggest that Wenger's not merely visually challenged, but that he suffers from completely myopic blind spots as far as his bald countryman's incompetence as cover at left-back is concerned.
Time was when the disaster of going 2-0 down away from home would have most Gooners glued to their seats, in the hope of savouring the prospect of an enthralling fight-back. Whereas they were departing the Reebok in their droves, long before the final whistle. There's a surfeit of talent in this Arsenal side, capable of turning it on when the going is good. But for some time now we've been bemoaning the absence of that vital backbone of players (no matter what nationality!) capable of rolling their sleeves up and inspiring their colleagues to battle their way back into a game. Consequently, almost from the moment Arsène made his meshugana 70th minute substitutions on Saturday, instead of roaring them on to at least try and rescue some pride, sadly both the Arsenal's fans and players alike appeared to be enveloped by a miserable air of resignation.
With a copper hollering at us not to rush and high-spirited Wanderers' fans questioning his confident contention "You'll all get on", mercifully we were eventually getting excruciatingly intimate with some of the Trotters on a train to Manchester. The steamed up windows in a carriage full of damp and sodden passengers, ensured that we were pulling into the station before it dawned on us that this wasn't Piccadilly. Desperate to make it onto a train home before the match ended at Old Trafford, we dived into a taxi for a dash across town.
It was bad enough that the "dry" train to London prevented many from drowning their sorrows. But at least we avoided the prospect of angry Gooners venting their frustrations in an inevitable contretemps with the hordes of jubilant Cockney Reds who'd accompanied us on our outward journey.
I'd spent much of the previous week in bed, after being struck down by a particularly virulent bug. As a result I really should've remained at home in the warm. Taking three points from the Reebok would've been well worth a relapse. Yet I ended up feeling foolish after risking my health for that load of old tosh. Still I couldn't resist masochistically enduring the highlights replayed on a recording of MOTD. I sat there wondering if the likes of Gilberto was similarly unable to slip into the welcoming arms of Morpheus until he'd analysed his woeful performance. I somehow doubt it!
To be honest, until Hansen tore him to bits in his TV analysis, I didn't think Cygan had that bad a game. Like every other Gooner I sat there groaning, as the ball seemed to constantly gravitate towards him. Yet in truth this was probably due to the fact that the bald defender was at least doing his best, while some of his teammates were patently guilty of hiding. However, as sympathetic as I may be to the centre-back's "fish out of water" plight, by half-time I was considering passing the hat around to pay a Wanderers' player to put Pascal out of action for a few weeks, or at least until after Chelsea's visit.
Cygan's lack of pace and the fact that he has the turning circle of an oil tanker are only compounding our defensive problems. However with the same unshakeable conviction that's been the foundation stone for his success, Arsène appears to stubbornly refute the possibility that Pascal not only lacks the attributes necessary to play at left-back, but that his inclusion as cover in this position is destabilising the entire team. Personally I don't think he's doing his compatriot any favours. We've seen far worse centre-backs in the Arsenal squad over the years. But Cygan is fast becoming such a scapegoat for the fans and a subject for so much ridicule, that the poor feller will soon have no future at the club, because he'll be unplayable in any position.
Meanwhile I've been going greyer by the week watching our opponents target our obvious weakness on this flank. By the time Mourinho brings his Blues to Highbury with the prospect of Duff, Robben and Wright-Phillips tearing past the leaden-footed lummox, I will undoubtedly be as bald as the slaphead himself!
________________________________________________________________
Hi Folks
Fulminating the entire length of a four hour train ride back from Bolton, I was fit to burst by the time I'd got home and endured a replay of the highlights on MOTD. However I was glad I resisted the temptation to grab my laptop and vent my fury there and then, or else this would've undoubtedly resulted in one interminable whinge.
Hopefully some 48 hours later I'm able to put Saturday's match into some perspective. There are some Gooners who will contend that the defeat against Bolton has put the kibbosh on any remaining pretensions of recapturing the Premiership title and who believe that Arsène is only really interested in the one silver pot which contines to elude him.
Ever since Dennis Bergkamp poked home a 90th minute get-out-of-jail card for the ten man Arsenal, against the Swiss minnows in our first European match, I've fancied that in a season when we are least favoured for success by the pundits, maybe, just maybe Lady Luck might favour us with the sort of good fortune which could surprise a few people. However considering how elusive success is in the Champions League, when all hopes in the knockout stages can disappear up in smoke with one dodgy performance, personally I feel it would be a bit foolish for us to forget the Premiership and dump all our hopes in the Champions League basket
Hopefully Saturday's match might prove the sort of timely kick up the backside we've required in seasons past, when it's taken just such a thoroughly comprehensive lesson for us to realise the hard way that you can never expect to earn the points in the Premiership simply for turning up!
It is true that Bolton deserve the plaudits for putting us under the cosh but I find it a bit of a wind up reading all the OTT reports on Sam Allardyce's side remarkable achievement. When in truth the team Wenger put out on Saturday were so devoid of the necessary desire that non-league Tamworth would've probably given us a pasting. In all the remarks I've read lauding Bolton's Vieira mark II, everyone seems to have neglected to mention that their man-mountain Abdoulaye Faye was competing against Cesc Fabregas, the smallest kid on the pitch, when he headed home their first goal!
It was the same against Boro and West Brom, when the media sung the home side's praises for putting one over on the Premiership aristocrats. Obviously I will take it all back if Chelsea go to the Reebok and are similarly undone, or if Bolton come anywhere close to beating the Blues. But I rather suspect the inadequacies of our performance will only be truly revealed when Mourinho's mob make a mockery of Sam Allardyce's simplistic tactics, by matching the home side for work rate and taking all three points without much problem.
Meanwhile it was actually a relief watching MOTD and I just pray Wenger will have heard the post-match comments of Hansen and Lawrensen. If he did, we can but hope that he realises when it comes to his belief that the bald-headed one can play at left-back, contrary to his contention, our Highbury king is indeed as nude as the day he was born. They pointed out the obvious alternative and almost every Gooner I speak to wonders why Wenger appears to be so reluctant to bring back Senderos alongside Campbell and move the versatile and pacy Kolo Touré to left-back
He gave Lauren a brief try in Switzerland the other week and although Ralphie appeared a little uncomfortable at this point in time I'd jump for joy if he played absolutely anyone in the left-back position, instead of having the whole team unnerved by Cygan's flapping "fish out of water" impersonation.
The saddest fact is that in truth poor Pascal doesn't deserve anything like the disapprobation he's bound to be receiving from some of THOF's more fickle fans. I only hope his English isn't up to understanding some of the stick he must be suffering, or that there's an extremely thick skin under that shiny pate. Playing out on the wing, I dread to think of the "f**k off and die" type delightful suggestions being screamed at him by some of THOF's more critical Neanderthals
These days it seems as if there's a "you pays your money, you says what you feel" type attitude amongst many punters on the terraces. Personally I'm a firm believer that it's a big mistake for loyal Gooners to lambast anyone wearing the red & white, as it's hardly likely to encourage them to try harder. But for heaven's sake it's decidedly unfair to dish it out to a player for his lack of g-d given ability, when he's grafting his socks off and obviously trying his best.
I'm not saying I wasn't secretly hoping Cygan would get sent off on Saturday, or that I wasn't cursing under my breath every time the bald headed berk went anywhere near the ball. But in such circumstances when his confidence is taking such a battering, while the poor geezer is wearing the shirt, he needs all the support he can get!
To my mind if I was going to have a go at anyone at the Reebok, it was Gilberto who was perhaps the most guilty candidate. Was that really a World Cup winner commiting the schoolboy error of giving the ball away over in the corner, when even I know he should've stuck it in row Z (although perhaps he wouldn't have felt the need to be there in the first place if he had more faith in the full-back?). However out loud, I would only ever encourage the most slovenly Arsenal player merely to pull their socks up.
I only hope we don't have to experience a repeat against Chelsea of the sort of 6-1 embarrasment we endured at Old Trafford before Arsène admits the error of his ways and Cygan's career ends up ditched in the same scapegoat dustbin where Wenger dumped Igor Stepanovs!
Meanwhile no matter how tirelessly Henry worked to try and rescue a result, there was no mistaking his head dropping at one stage. I happened to freeze frame the Sky Plus gadget on Thierry's face after Bolton's keeper fingertipped his fabulous shot on to the post and prevented Pires from tapping home the rebound. The exasperated expression on our captain's face spoke volumes! I'm sure Henry's not by nature the sort of arrogant player who would dream of dissing his team mates, but if I had to put his melancholy mush into words it might say "Am I really expected to remain at the Arsenal merely to waste my gifts with weekly recue missions to compensate for the regular cock-ups of some of my infinitely less talented team mates"!
Barcelona appear to be the team of the moment if you want to wallow in some of the world's best fantasy football. With all the rumours about Thierry's imminent departure from THOF in the summer, if I'm watching Barca's weekly appearances on Sky wondering what incredible feats Titi might accomplish if he was being fed by the likes of Messi, Deco and Ronaldihno, surely Thierry must be equally curious?
Whatever the case, no matter how tirelessly Titi continues to graft in the Arsenal's cause, it's enough that his broad shoulders have to carry the goal scoring weight of putting more in the opposition's net than we keep conceding each week. I swear I visibly saw these sag on Saturday, as Thierry trudged back up field after coming back to help out at yet another Bolton set-piece. It's too much to expect him as captain to carry the moral of the entire team as well. Once more we were crying out at the Reebok for the sort of leader who's capable of putting fire in the bellies of the Arsenal's troops from back to front, bellowing at the team mates before him, instead of captain who spends most of the 90 with his back to his colleagues, only capable of trying to inspire them to match his effort.
Still a decent result against the Dutch on Wednesday and doubtless it will all be sweetness and light again. Although with no trains back from Newcastle next Saturday night, it's going to take a much more committed performance to persuade me to drive all the way to Toon town and back
I say bring on the trip to Doncaster Rovers as I can't think of a more punishing reality check for some of our prima donnas
Peace & Love
Bernard
E-mail to: LondonN5@gmail.com
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Never Mind The Pascal, Feel The Van Persie
In the many marvelous montages seen on the TV over the course of an emotional weekend for football, we were reminded of the brilliant, many would say the greatest talent ever to grace the beautiful game. Much in the same way the Real Madrid fans stood and applauded Ronaldhino last weekend, after their team had been torn asunder by their despised rivals' star striker, George Best played football with a joie de vivre which transcended petty partisan passions.
I retain foggy childhood memories of being allowed to stay up past my bedtime to watch the black & white TV pictures of Man Utd beating Benfica in extra-time in '68. Sadly the old grey matter is far too addled to recall other individual games. Yet I've still got the matchday programme to prove that I was among 60,000 Highbury punters who saw Bestie score in a 2-2 draw the following year.
It's a pity they've yet to discover a data recovery service for the corrupted mind, as there is for clapped out computers. Although if this was possible, while I'd love to peruse my own live recollections of Pele's favourite footballer, in a massive list of long since forgotten matches, the following season's encounter would probably appear a little higher. How amazing it'd be to revisit John Radford's hat-trick, from a 9 year old's rapt perspective, as Bertie Mee's spirited side started out on a remarkable road to repeating Spurs Double feat of a decade earlier, with Frank McLintock & co. frustrating Sir Matt Busby's famous triumvirate of Best, Law and Charlton, in a 4-0 thrashing.
Poor Georgie's premature passing inspired plenty of nostalgic reminiscing. Collecting dust in a cupboard with my most precious programmes are all my Soccer Star annuals from that era. Standing on the threshold of virtual reality gaming, kids today will find it hard to understand the endless hours of entertainment we once had, collecting, swapping and proudly preening over a completed collection of frigid little pictures of First Division footballing faces.
Watching the wonderful clips of the Belfast boy's bedazzling ball skills, brought home another difference between now and then. Best appeared to have this amazing balance, which enabled him to remain on his feet despite a veritable barrage of bellicose invitations to bite the dust - and boy did defenders like Chopper Harris hack at him back then!
However by and large these were far more innocent times, when the British game remained fairly honest compared to the cynical brand of football played on the continent. We'd yet to be infected by the diving disease and all the other conniving shenanigans that were soon to become so much more commonplace, as the world grew smaller and the game in this country became increasingly cosmopolitan.
I wouldn't dare to suggest our football was played by angels who wouldn't dream of dropping in the box to con a pen out of a gullible ref. But as we witnessed in the way George would ride challenges, it wasn't always an instinctive action of first resort to try and fool the officials, when faced with the alternative prospect of carving out a half-decent opportunity.
Thus on a day when football fans around the country paid homage, following the demise of the fifth Beatle, at Highbury it was wonderful to witness a 20-year old Dutch prodigy unwittingly rage against the dying of Bestie's light with virtually the last kick against Blackburn.
Some of us are wondering if Wenger might be worried about a volatile Robin Van Persie losing the run of himself, without a tight rein being kept on his burgeoning star status. Otherwise what possible reason could there be for leaving a player who's performing at his peak, cooling his heels on the bench on Saturday; to be replaced by the cultured but ageing Dennis Bergkamp, who hasn't found the back of a Premiership net all season. Robin's struck such a rich vein of form right now that Wenger should really be making the most of it while it lasts
The young Dutch pretender only got a look-in for the last few minutes, as Wenger wound down the clock. So he wasn't about to waste his one solitary opportunity, in pursuit of a mere free-kick. Receiving the ball out wide on the right wing, he controlled it with his first touch and took two Rovers players out of the game with his second, leaving both for dead, as he darted between them.
I've grown accustomed to laughing at the gamut of theatrical routines. From the sublime to the ridiculous, it's strange that refs are so easily suckered, when such shoddy play-acting is so obvious to all and sundry in the stands. Still it's always a wind up, wondering what might've been, if only they'd stayed on their feet and played out the move.
Over time I've taught myself to make light of such footballing frustrations. If I was to constantly go 'meshuga' during every match, like Busta Blood-vessel, the Arsenal loony who sits a few rows behind us, with the bulging blue veins on his forehead fit to burst, as he bellows out such niceties at the officials as "I hope your mother dies of cancer", I'd be foaming at the mouth so frequently nowadays, that my heart would've long since given up the ghost and it'd be me greeting George at the heavenly gates.
Doubtless in other circumstances our hotheaded striker might've reacted to Robbie Savage's red rag, by rolling on the deck feigning agony. But with only minutes in which to make an impression on this match and the confidence of a player whose radar is unerringly locked on to finding the back of the net, there was only one thought in Robin's mind.
Some might argue that there's already little to choose between Savage and Cheetah. While others might suggest that this is an insult to the intelligence of Tarzan's chimp. Yet I suppose Rover's midfield raver didn't take too kindly to Van Persie making even more of a monkey of him. Despite Van Persie's relatively innocuous position out wide, Savage made at least two desperate last lunges at his legs. With Best like balance, Robin somehow managed to ride the attempts to take his legs away and before anyone, least of all Brad Friedel, had time to realise his intent, he'd released a thunderbolt that arched its way goalwards from an acute angle and in off the far post.
It's a bit rich coming from one who's typically tardy arrival resulted in me running up the steps to catch a replay of Fabregas' 4th minute opener on the big screens. But I pity the poor part-timers who slipped away early to try and beat the traffic and missed such a poignant tribute to the master.
_______________________________________________________________
(forgive me but I started writing this on Monday, after the Blackburn game and before Reading and after a decidedly unwanted introduction to a particularly nasty bug, I've only just got around to finishing on the eve of our trip to the Reebok)
Hi Folks
If the object of leaving Robin Van Persie out of Saturday's starting line-up was an attempt to rein in the Dutch youngster, it appears Wenger wasn't the only one, Amazingly for once I've also managed to rein in my wordy tendencies to present the editor at the Examiner with an extremely rare example of a piece which meets their requirements almost exactly.
Although as a result you are likely to bear the brunt with a War & Peace like preamble because there are so many other topics to comment on that I couldn't include below.
Subsequent to Thierry Henry and Robert Pires combining to score a sensational second goal against Rovers which was almost as beautiful in its simplicity, as Van Persie's third was in its utter brilliance, I was eagerly looking forward to a rare public performance from the great man later the same night on Parkinson. I was nonethless a bit baffled by Henry's decision to appear in such a public forum, considering how little we see of his utterly charming character off the football pitch.
After all, it wasn't as if the French maestro had a new book or DVD to flog. But it soon became apparent that Titi had only agreed to appear, in an honorable attempt to publicise his earnest endeavours to promote racial tolerance. To be honest, I was left feeling more than a little disappointed. Thierry's particular interview was far too brief and it focused almost exclusively on a topic, which although extremely admirable, isn't exactly top of my list of what I'd like to hear Thierry talk about.
You have to wonder, of the millions who tuned into Parkie last Saturday, how many of them were looking forward to hearing from ex-Coronation Street actress Sarah Lancashire, or loony ex-game show host turned luvvie Matthew Kelly. At least Stevie Wonder was the sort of class act who deserved to share such prestigious billing with the world's best footballer
I'm assuming that Titi's people only agreed to the appearance on Parkie, on the explicit agreement that this would be the main topic of discussion and that he wouldn't have to face any awkward questions about his future. However I'm sure I sensed Thierry bristle somewhat with Parkie's totally unnecessary repetition of the "Black Sh*t" quote from the Spanish manager, which to my mind was a distasteful example of Parkie pandering to the sensationalist style of a TV station beholden to its commercial sponsors. I'm actually in the wrong even to be including the neanderthal Spaniard's racist remarks here, in a forum of a mere few hundred, let alone Parkie giving the comments of such an ignorant human being, airspace in front of an audience of millions!
Moreover I'm certain Thierry didn't take too kindly to Parkie's amusing reaction to his tale of being spat on, which certainly wasn't a laughing matter when the Frenchman was being covered in disgusting spittle. What was Parkinson thinking with his utterly insensitive chuckling about such a disgusting incident, right at a time when the brother of Man City footballer Joey Barton was about to be sentenced to 18 years in prison for the totally unprovoked racist attack on Anthony Walker ?
I always think it's impossible to compare different footballers, let alone footballers from different eras. I know I saw George Best play live, but sadly I can't distinguish any childhood memories apart from those mentioned below, from the many wonderful clips we've seen on the TV over the years - of which my absolute favourite is the one from the match between Northern Ireland v USSR. It reminds me of the famous "no mas" fight between Sugar Ray Leonard and Duran, with Bestie having taunted the life out of the Ruskie defenders and standing there like a matador with both hands out at his side, waving on the opposition to come and try and get the ball off him, pure magic.
George was undoubtedly one of the greatest ever gods to grace out footballing temples. Just as Liam Brady was one of the most artistic ball players I've ever witnessed and perhaps Dennis Bergkamp has demonstrated the greatest footballing brain, the fruits of which we've enjoyed in recent years. Nevertheless, of all the players (the memory of whom remains fresh in my mind - unlike my clouded childhood reminiscences), there has been no one I've been fortunate to watch play live who has Henry's ability to take my breath away and leave me completely dumbstruck with quite such regularity, with the balletic, panther like athletic grace he displays with the ball at his feet
Thus I felt it was almost a complete waste to finally get such a stupendous perfomer in front of a TV camera, for once with some breath left to speak (unlike his occasional, oxygen defficient and all too brief post match comments) and utterly fail to explore any of the qualities which combine to make this footballer tick. Instead of which Parkinson focused almost exclusively on the sad aspects of "monkey noises" and the like which reflect so badly on those societies as a whole who are tacitly complicit in their refusal to address such problems. In my eyes not only was this a dreadful waste but it was "not respect"!
Parkie's solitary probing question was a hypothetical, whereby he enquired of Titi whether he'd want to play before some of the racist crowds found on the continent in particular Spain, Thierry replied that it didn't stop him signing for Juve previously
Henry qualified this by saying "that doesn't mean I am going to leave Arsenal!"
However unfortunately my feeling about this is that the one conclusion we can draw from his comments to date, are that he is definitely considering his options. If Titi had already made his mind up that he's definitely not leaving the Arsenal in the summer, I believe he would've put all the rumours to rest once and for all by coming out and reassuring Gooners the world over by confirming that he's not going anywhere.
Henry strikes me as the honorable sort of person who just couldn't do this unless it was gospel and so sadly I think his silence speaks volumes. The one other thing which was apparent in this interview was the life-changing effect of fatherhood. It could be that this change in Thierry's circumstances might well be responsible for him having a far more selfish outlook, as far as the best interests of his family are concerned.
Personally I'm hoping (praying!) that Thierry suffered his first injury in a good while and with all that spare time on his hands, he could've been chatting to his pal Patrick and the green eyed monster might've raised it's ugly head, as Paddy tried to convince him how much greener the grass was, playing far less games, for so much more money, without half the weight of responsibility, playing for a team where perhaps it doesn't matter nearly so much as it does at THOF. I can but cling to some optimistic speculation that at the end of the day he's just going to use his great bargaining position, in order to leverage both the best possible deal to stay at THOF and for the club to prove their ambitions match his
However Henry might continue to be happy as Larry at Highbury and perhaps it will be a huge wrench to part company with his mentor, Le Prof, but I can fully appreciate that he might be prepared to make some personal sacrifice to leave this comfort zone, as the biggest fish in the Arsenal pond, if he's been made the sort of offer he can't refuse to play elsewhere.
It might be hard for us to comprehend that the sort of telephone number type wages he's earning each week at Highbury and the even bigger ones being bandied about on the continent, can make that much difference. After all, how much can you spend in one lifetime? Yet you have to bear in mind the ephemeral nature of a footballer's career, with two-thirds of their life occurring after their retirement.
Sitting here, reflecting on the subject, it would seem stark raving bonkers for Titi to want to go abroad and entertain some of the racists he'd find on the terraces there - not that they're extinct here, sadly, as some would have us believe, but mercifully in most cases these days, peer pressure from the majority ensures that such disgusting antics won't be tolerated on the terraces, although some would suggest that labelling Damien Duff a gypo, with the "where's your caravan" taunts is no less a racist crime? - when Henry can virtually name his price at THOF. However when you consider how huge Beckham's global profile has become since his move to Real Madrid, in truth Thierry would probably be mad to turn down the sort of total income he could attract in wages, sponsorship, advertising etc, for a mere couple of seasons, scoring goals on the Continent. What's more with his daughter being so young, it's probably now or never, with regard to being able to move without having a detrimental effect on her education etc.
Whereas often it's the footballer's wives wanting warmer climes, we can but hope that Henry's English missus might be a homegirl who has a yen for fry-ups rather than continental brekkies? Time will tell but I do fear the worst. From the way one of the journo's tried to ellicit some info from Wenger at the Wigan press conference, he was speaking as if it's already a done deal!
Although a friend of a friend who found themselves eating at a dinner with Wenger and his wife a few weeks back asked Arsene the all important question and was told Thierry is going nowhere this summer. But you never know, this might just be wishful thinking on Wenger's part, as in his place I wouldn't want to entertain the prospect of losing the best striker on the planet. I get the distinct feeling that Arsene will continue to deny that Thierry is considering leaving the Arsenal, right up until the dreadful day might dawn (heaven forfendf!). It's probably the worst case scenario in view of the club's promotion plans for all those expensive seats at the new stadium. "Que sera, sera" as someone once sang, but whatever transpires, as awful a prospect as it might be to consider an Arsenal side without Henry, we have to feel incredibly privileged that such an unbelievable artist has graced us with his breathtaking talents, week in, week out, these past few years.
Apparently on the same evening Arsene confirmed that controlling Van Persie is a bit of a problem and that Chelsea's conduct in the whole tapping up affair with Ashley Cole was even worse than was reported in the paper.
Meanwhile it's Wenger's implausible deniability on another subject which is of more immediate concern. Arsene seems to have this problem entertaining the prospect that he might be wrong when it comes to certain decisions. I get the feeling that the more Pascal Cygan gets slated about his total incompetence as temporary cover at left-back, the more Arsene is going to try to prove otherwise
It seems as plain as the nose on Wenger's face that absolutely anyone with a little more pace than the flat-footed Pascal, would have a better chance of doing the job. And while it was worrying watching our nervous defence try to cope with the leaden footed lump on the left flank against the likes of Wigan and Blackburn, we're all bloody terrified at the prospect of Duff, Wright-Phillips and Robben tearing past him if Arsene persists with the poor Pascal for Chelsea's visit in a couple of weeks. If I've gone even more grey enduring the decidedly dodgy defending of the past few weeks, I'll be as bald as the slaphead himself by the time the Blues get here!
Unfortunately the only thing likely to change Wenger's mind in the meantime, is if the hapless Pascal is patently responsible for us dropping points against Bolton or Newcaslte. I've always felt Cygan has just about been able to cope at centre back in the slower paced Champions League games but is soon exposed in the far more frenetic Premiership. Thus it's going to be extremely painful travelling to Bolton and Newcastle with Allardyce and Souness bound to target this obvious week spot, as we suffer a player on the flank with the turning circle of an oil tanker. While there aren't too many alternative options, personally I would prefer Campbell and Senderos in the middle, with Kolo and Lauren at full-back. However I'd happily accept absolutely anyone playing there with more pace than Pascal. I'd even prefer to see one of the youngsters given their big chance because at least then, if mistakes are made, at least we'd have the consolation of knowing the lad was learning from them. Whereas there can't be much left to teach the current old dog who's covering at left back.
I feel sorry for Cygan really, because so long as he's giving of his all, it's hard to give him personal stick for a lack of g-d given speed and natural ability. But to my mind, just by the fact that Wenger admitted he played Freddie on that flank against Wigan because he's more defensively minded, this suggest to me that Arsene has already admitted that Pascal just ain't up to the job!
But then who are we to argue with Le Boss? It's not the first time Arsene has stuck to his guns in the face of almost total contradiction from both Gooners and media alike. If many of us had had our own way we would have long since given up on Jose Reyes. After arriving on the Arsenal scene with a massive splas. with his amazing performance against Chelsea, it was almost all downhill, to the point where Reyes reported to be dreadfully homesick and nearly everyone at Highbury, bar Wenger, had given up hope.
I know the deal for Reyes was exagerrated in the press, in as much as we'd have to win the Premiership, the Champions League and the World Cup for Jose to cost all of the£20 odd million transfer fee reported, yet my feeling at the time was that Wenger had made such a substantial investment in the Spanish winger that he couldn't afford to be proved wrong. It was my firm belief back then when Jose couldn't put a foot right that if he'd not been such an expensive purchase, Arsene would have long since dropped him
However he continued to show faith in Jose and has eventually been proved right as the Spaniard finally seems to have turned the corner and has begun to come to terms with the Premiership. I only hope Wenger's judgement is proved correct , even in the face of such unanimous opinion that Pascal ain't up to the left-back job
Meanwhile I finished the following piece on Monday and promptly came down with a dreaded lurgy which proved so bad, that not only did I not get around to sending this out until tonight (Friday), but I also failed to be able to drag myself out of my pit and around to the Reading game on Tuesday (missing my first game this season).
You had to know I was sick when, with the game not even being shown live on the box, or any live commentary on the radio, it's a helluva wind up when you can hear the stadium announcer through our open windows and even worse when you hear the obvious roar of a goal going in and you have to wait for the radio to tell you who's scored. What's more, with the rare opportunity to sit elsewhere other than our season tickets, I was really looking forward to the possibility of perhaps hugging Van Persie from a seat in the front row of the North Bank, just beside the goal.
I guess it would have been a bit of a wind up with both first half goals going in at the Clock End, I believe, and only a decent view of Lupoli's third, but I'm dead relieved we beat Reading and we might yet have the prospect of a home draw in the next round, so I can bid a personal farewell to the North Bank. With three ex-Arsenal players returning with Reading, I was convinced the likes of Sidwell, Harper and Stack were going to come back to haunt us. Yet it seems the kids did more than alright and so "big respek to the yout". Although they are gonna have to do a whole lot better if I am to get anywhere near achieving my objective of working my way around to say a personal farewell to every stand in THOF!
Mercifully I've just recovered from this bout of a dreadfully nasty lurgy just in time for the weekend and after three days in bed, I am currently sitting here wondering if I am actually mad enough to schlep all the way up to Bolton tomorrow. Assuming I don't oversleep in the morning, I think we all know the answer to that one! To miss one game was bad enough. Thankfully we won, as otherwise it would've been all my fault. But to miss two in a row would be sacrilege and would be asking for trouble. Bolton always seem to save their most obdurate performances for our visit to the Reebok and so I'm assuming we're going to need all the help we can get including my contribution of some doughty decibels :-)
I'd certainly risk a little relapse for the sake of three points at the Reebok tomorrow. Although the longer the season goes on without Mourinho's mob giving us a glimmer of hope by dropping the odd point, the more daunting the chase appears. We could certainly do with their aura of invincibility taking a little battering before they get to THOF in a couple of weeks, but I'll sure settle for the 'baby step' of beating them that day
But if I don't put a sock in it soon, I'll have no chance of getting up in time to catch a train to darkest Lancashire
Peace & Love
Bernard
e-mail to: londonN5@gmail.com
I retain foggy childhood memories of being allowed to stay up past my bedtime to watch the black & white TV pictures of Man Utd beating Benfica in extra-time in '68. Sadly the old grey matter is far too addled to recall other individual games. Yet I've still got the matchday programme to prove that I was among 60,000 Highbury punters who saw Bestie score in a 2-2 draw the following year.
It's a pity they've yet to discover a data recovery service for the corrupted mind, as there is for clapped out computers. Although if this was possible, while I'd love to peruse my own live recollections of Pele's favourite footballer, in a massive list of long since forgotten matches, the following season's encounter would probably appear a little higher. How amazing it'd be to revisit John Radford's hat-trick, from a 9 year old's rapt perspective, as Bertie Mee's spirited side started out on a remarkable road to repeating Spurs Double feat of a decade earlier, with Frank McLintock & co. frustrating Sir Matt Busby's famous triumvirate of Best, Law and Charlton, in a 4-0 thrashing.
Poor Georgie's premature passing inspired plenty of nostalgic reminiscing. Collecting dust in a cupboard with my most precious programmes are all my Soccer Star annuals from that era. Standing on the threshold of virtual reality gaming, kids today will find it hard to understand the endless hours of entertainment we once had, collecting, swapping and proudly preening over a completed collection of frigid little pictures of First Division footballing faces.
Watching the wonderful clips of the Belfast boy's bedazzling ball skills, brought home another difference between now and then. Best appeared to have this amazing balance, which enabled him to remain on his feet despite a veritable barrage of bellicose invitations to bite the dust - and boy did defenders like Chopper Harris hack at him back then!
However by and large these were far more innocent times, when the British game remained fairly honest compared to the cynical brand of football played on the continent. We'd yet to be infected by the diving disease and all the other conniving shenanigans that were soon to become so much more commonplace, as the world grew smaller and the game in this country became increasingly cosmopolitan.
I wouldn't dare to suggest our football was played by angels who wouldn't dream of dropping in the box to con a pen out of a gullible ref. But as we witnessed in the way George would ride challenges, it wasn't always an instinctive action of first resort to try and fool the officials, when faced with the alternative prospect of carving out a half-decent opportunity.
Thus on a day when football fans around the country paid homage, following the demise of the fifth Beatle, at Highbury it was wonderful to witness a 20-year old Dutch prodigy unwittingly rage against the dying of Bestie's light with virtually the last kick against Blackburn.
Some of us are wondering if Wenger might be worried about a volatile Robin Van Persie losing the run of himself, without a tight rein being kept on his burgeoning star status. Otherwise what possible reason could there be for leaving a player who's performing at his peak, cooling his heels on the bench on Saturday; to be replaced by the cultured but ageing Dennis Bergkamp, who hasn't found the back of a Premiership net all season. Robin's struck such a rich vein of form right now that Wenger should really be making the most of it while it lasts
The young Dutch pretender only got a look-in for the last few minutes, as Wenger wound down the clock. So he wasn't about to waste his one solitary opportunity, in pursuit of a mere free-kick. Receiving the ball out wide on the right wing, he controlled it with his first touch and took two Rovers players out of the game with his second, leaving both for dead, as he darted between them.
I've grown accustomed to laughing at the gamut of theatrical routines. From the sublime to the ridiculous, it's strange that refs are so easily suckered, when such shoddy play-acting is so obvious to all and sundry in the stands. Still it's always a wind up, wondering what might've been, if only they'd stayed on their feet and played out the move.
Over time I've taught myself to make light of such footballing frustrations. If I was to constantly go 'meshuga' during every match, like Busta Blood-vessel, the Arsenal loony who sits a few rows behind us, with the bulging blue veins on his forehead fit to burst, as he bellows out such niceties at the officials as "I hope your mother dies of cancer", I'd be foaming at the mouth so frequently nowadays, that my heart would've long since given up the ghost and it'd be me greeting George at the heavenly gates.
Doubtless in other circumstances our hotheaded striker might've reacted to Robbie Savage's red rag, by rolling on the deck feigning agony. But with only minutes in which to make an impression on this match and the confidence of a player whose radar is unerringly locked on to finding the back of the net, there was only one thought in Robin's mind.
Some might argue that there's already little to choose between Savage and Cheetah. While others might suggest that this is an insult to the intelligence of Tarzan's chimp. Yet I suppose Rover's midfield raver didn't take too kindly to Van Persie making even more of a monkey of him. Despite Van Persie's relatively innocuous position out wide, Savage made at least two desperate last lunges at his legs. With Best like balance, Robin somehow managed to ride the attempts to take his legs away and before anyone, least of all Brad Friedel, had time to realise his intent, he'd released a thunderbolt that arched its way goalwards from an acute angle and in off the far post.
It's a bit rich coming from one who's typically tardy arrival resulted in me running up the steps to catch a replay of Fabregas' 4th minute opener on the big screens. But I pity the poor part-timers who slipped away early to try and beat the traffic and missed such a poignant tribute to the master.
_______________________________________________________________
(forgive me but I started writing this on Monday, after the Blackburn game and before Reading and after a decidedly unwanted introduction to a particularly nasty bug, I've only just got around to finishing on the eve of our trip to the Reebok)
Hi Folks
If the object of leaving Robin Van Persie out of Saturday's starting line-up was an attempt to rein in the Dutch youngster, it appears Wenger wasn't the only one, Amazingly for once I've also managed to rein in my wordy tendencies to present the editor at the Examiner with an extremely rare example of a piece which meets their requirements almost exactly.
Although as a result you are likely to bear the brunt with a War & Peace like preamble because there are so many other topics to comment on that I couldn't include below.
Subsequent to Thierry Henry and Robert Pires combining to score a sensational second goal against Rovers which was almost as beautiful in its simplicity, as Van Persie's third was in its utter brilliance, I was eagerly looking forward to a rare public performance from the great man later the same night on Parkinson. I was nonethless a bit baffled by Henry's decision to appear in such a public forum, considering how little we see of his utterly charming character off the football pitch.
After all, it wasn't as if the French maestro had a new book or DVD to flog. But it soon became apparent that Titi had only agreed to appear, in an honorable attempt to publicise his earnest endeavours to promote racial tolerance. To be honest, I was left feeling more than a little disappointed. Thierry's particular interview was far too brief and it focused almost exclusively on a topic, which although extremely admirable, isn't exactly top of my list of what I'd like to hear Thierry talk about.
You have to wonder, of the millions who tuned into Parkie last Saturday, how many of them were looking forward to hearing from ex-Coronation Street actress Sarah Lancashire, or loony ex-game show host turned luvvie Matthew Kelly. At least Stevie Wonder was the sort of class act who deserved to share such prestigious billing with the world's best footballer
I'm assuming that Titi's people only agreed to the appearance on Parkie, on the explicit agreement that this would be the main topic of discussion and that he wouldn't have to face any awkward questions about his future. However I'm sure I sensed Thierry bristle somewhat with Parkie's totally unnecessary repetition of the "Black Sh*t" quote from the Spanish manager, which to my mind was a distasteful example of Parkie pandering to the sensationalist style of a TV station beholden to its commercial sponsors. I'm actually in the wrong even to be including the neanderthal Spaniard's racist remarks here, in a forum of a mere few hundred, let alone Parkie giving the comments of such an ignorant human being, airspace in front of an audience of millions!
Moreover I'm certain Thierry didn't take too kindly to Parkie's amusing reaction to his tale of being spat on, which certainly wasn't a laughing matter when the Frenchman was being covered in disgusting spittle. What was Parkinson thinking with his utterly insensitive chuckling about such a disgusting incident, right at a time when the brother of Man City footballer Joey Barton was about to be sentenced to 18 years in prison for the totally unprovoked racist attack on Anthony Walker ?
I always think it's impossible to compare different footballers, let alone footballers from different eras. I know I saw George Best play live, but sadly I can't distinguish any childhood memories apart from those mentioned below, from the many wonderful clips we've seen on the TV over the years - of which my absolute favourite is the one from the match between Northern Ireland v USSR. It reminds me of the famous "no mas" fight between Sugar Ray Leonard and Duran, with Bestie having taunted the life out of the Ruskie defenders and standing there like a matador with both hands out at his side, waving on the opposition to come and try and get the ball off him, pure magic.
George was undoubtedly one of the greatest ever gods to grace out footballing temples. Just as Liam Brady was one of the most artistic ball players I've ever witnessed and perhaps Dennis Bergkamp has demonstrated the greatest footballing brain, the fruits of which we've enjoyed in recent years. Nevertheless, of all the players (the memory of whom remains fresh in my mind - unlike my clouded childhood reminiscences), there has been no one I've been fortunate to watch play live who has Henry's ability to take my breath away and leave me completely dumbstruck with quite such regularity, with the balletic, panther like athletic grace he displays with the ball at his feet
Thus I felt it was almost a complete waste to finally get such a stupendous perfomer in front of a TV camera, for once with some breath left to speak (unlike his occasional, oxygen defficient and all too brief post match comments) and utterly fail to explore any of the qualities which combine to make this footballer tick. Instead of which Parkinson focused almost exclusively on the sad aspects of "monkey noises" and the like which reflect so badly on those societies as a whole who are tacitly complicit in their refusal to address such problems. In my eyes not only was this a dreadful waste but it was "not respect"!
Parkie's solitary probing question was a hypothetical, whereby he enquired of Titi whether he'd want to play before some of the racist crowds found on the continent in particular Spain, Thierry replied that it didn't stop him signing for Juve previously
Henry qualified this by saying "that doesn't mean I am going to leave Arsenal!"
However unfortunately my feeling about this is that the one conclusion we can draw from his comments to date, are that he is definitely considering his options. If Titi had already made his mind up that he's definitely not leaving the Arsenal in the summer, I believe he would've put all the rumours to rest once and for all by coming out and reassuring Gooners the world over by confirming that he's not going anywhere.
Henry strikes me as the honorable sort of person who just couldn't do this unless it was gospel and so sadly I think his silence speaks volumes. The one other thing which was apparent in this interview was the life-changing effect of fatherhood. It could be that this change in Thierry's circumstances might well be responsible for him having a far more selfish outlook, as far as the best interests of his family are concerned.
Personally I'm hoping (praying!) that Thierry suffered his first injury in a good while and with all that spare time on his hands, he could've been chatting to his pal Patrick and the green eyed monster might've raised it's ugly head, as Paddy tried to convince him how much greener the grass was, playing far less games, for so much more money, without half the weight of responsibility, playing for a team where perhaps it doesn't matter nearly so much as it does at THOF. I can but cling to some optimistic speculation that at the end of the day he's just going to use his great bargaining position, in order to leverage both the best possible deal to stay at THOF and for the club to prove their ambitions match his
However Henry might continue to be happy as Larry at Highbury and perhaps it will be a huge wrench to part company with his mentor, Le Prof, but I can fully appreciate that he might be prepared to make some personal sacrifice to leave this comfort zone, as the biggest fish in the Arsenal pond, if he's been made the sort of offer he can't refuse to play elsewhere.
It might be hard for us to comprehend that the sort of telephone number type wages he's earning each week at Highbury and the even bigger ones being bandied about on the continent, can make that much difference. After all, how much can you spend in one lifetime? Yet you have to bear in mind the ephemeral nature of a footballer's career, with two-thirds of their life occurring after their retirement.
Sitting here, reflecting on the subject, it would seem stark raving bonkers for Titi to want to go abroad and entertain some of the racists he'd find on the terraces there - not that they're extinct here, sadly, as some would have us believe, but mercifully in most cases these days, peer pressure from the majority ensures that such disgusting antics won't be tolerated on the terraces, although some would suggest that labelling Damien Duff a gypo, with the "where's your caravan" taunts is no less a racist crime? - when Henry can virtually name his price at THOF. However when you consider how huge Beckham's global profile has become since his move to Real Madrid, in truth Thierry would probably be mad to turn down the sort of total income he could attract in wages, sponsorship, advertising etc, for a mere couple of seasons, scoring goals on the Continent. What's more with his daughter being so young, it's probably now or never, with regard to being able to move without having a detrimental effect on her education etc.
Whereas often it's the footballer's wives wanting warmer climes, we can but hope that Henry's English missus might be a homegirl who has a yen for fry-ups rather than continental brekkies? Time will tell but I do fear the worst. From the way one of the journo's tried to ellicit some info from Wenger at the Wigan press conference, he was speaking as if it's already a done deal!
Although a friend of a friend who found themselves eating at a dinner with Wenger and his wife a few weeks back asked Arsene the all important question and was told Thierry is going nowhere this summer. But you never know, this might just be wishful thinking on Wenger's part, as in his place I wouldn't want to entertain the prospect of losing the best striker on the planet. I get the distinct feeling that Arsene will continue to deny that Thierry is considering leaving the Arsenal, right up until the dreadful day might dawn (heaven forfendf!). It's probably the worst case scenario in view of the club's promotion plans for all those expensive seats at the new stadium. "Que sera, sera" as someone once sang, but whatever transpires, as awful a prospect as it might be to consider an Arsenal side without Henry, we have to feel incredibly privileged that such an unbelievable artist has graced us with his breathtaking talents, week in, week out, these past few years.
Apparently on the same evening Arsene confirmed that controlling Van Persie is a bit of a problem and that Chelsea's conduct in the whole tapping up affair with Ashley Cole was even worse than was reported in the paper.
Meanwhile it's Wenger's implausible deniability on another subject which is of more immediate concern. Arsene seems to have this problem entertaining the prospect that he might be wrong when it comes to certain decisions. I get the feeling that the more Pascal Cygan gets slated about his total incompetence as temporary cover at left-back, the more Arsene is going to try to prove otherwise
It seems as plain as the nose on Wenger's face that absolutely anyone with a little more pace than the flat-footed Pascal, would have a better chance of doing the job. And while it was worrying watching our nervous defence try to cope with the leaden footed lump on the left flank against the likes of Wigan and Blackburn, we're all bloody terrified at the prospect of Duff, Wright-Phillips and Robben tearing past him if Arsene persists with the poor Pascal for Chelsea's visit in a couple of weeks. If I've gone even more grey enduring the decidedly dodgy defending of the past few weeks, I'll be as bald as the slaphead himself by the time the Blues get here!
Unfortunately the only thing likely to change Wenger's mind in the meantime, is if the hapless Pascal is patently responsible for us dropping points against Bolton or Newcaslte. I've always felt Cygan has just about been able to cope at centre back in the slower paced Champions League games but is soon exposed in the far more frenetic Premiership. Thus it's going to be extremely painful travelling to Bolton and Newcastle with Allardyce and Souness bound to target this obvious week spot, as we suffer a player on the flank with the turning circle of an oil tanker. While there aren't too many alternative options, personally I would prefer Campbell and Senderos in the middle, with Kolo and Lauren at full-back. However I'd happily accept absolutely anyone playing there with more pace than Pascal. I'd even prefer to see one of the youngsters given their big chance because at least then, if mistakes are made, at least we'd have the consolation of knowing the lad was learning from them. Whereas there can't be much left to teach the current old dog who's covering at left back.
I feel sorry for Cygan really, because so long as he's giving of his all, it's hard to give him personal stick for a lack of g-d given speed and natural ability. But to my mind, just by the fact that Wenger admitted he played Freddie on that flank against Wigan because he's more defensively minded, this suggest to me that Arsene has already admitted that Pascal just ain't up to the job!
But then who are we to argue with Le Boss? It's not the first time Arsene has stuck to his guns in the face of almost total contradiction from both Gooners and media alike. If many of us had had our own way we would have long since given up on Jose Reyes. After arriving on the Arsenal scene with a massive splas. with his amazing performance against Chelsea, it was almost all downhill, to the point where Reyes reported to be dreadfully homesick and nearly everyone at Highbury, bar Wenger, had given up hope.
I know the deal for Reyes was exagerrated in the press, in as much as we'd have to win the Premiership, the Champions League and the World Cup for Jose to cost all of the£20 odd million transfer fee reported, yet my feeling at the time was that Wenger had made such a substantial investment in the Spanish winger that he couldn't afford to be proved wrong. It was my firm belief back then when Jose couldn't put a foot right that if he'd not been such an expensive purchase, Arsene would have long since dropped him
However he continued to show faith in Jose and has eventually been proved right as the Spaniard finally seems to have turned the corner and has begun to come to terms with the Premiership. I only hope Wenger's judgement is proved correct , even in the face of such unanimous opinion that Pascal ain't up to the left-back job
Meanwhile I finished the following piece on Monday and promptly came down with a dreaded lurgy which proved so bad, that not only did I not get around to sending this out until tonight (Friday), but I also failed to be able to drag myself out of my pit and around to the Reading game on Tuesday (missing my first game this season).
You had to know I was sick when, with the game not even being shown live on the box, or any live commentary on the radio, it's a helluva wind up when you can hear the stadium announcer through our open windows and even worse when you hear the obvious roar of a goal going in and you have to wait for the radio to tell you who's scored. What's more, with the rare opportunity to sit elsewhere other than our season tickets, I was really looking forward to the possibility of perhaps hugging Van Persie from a seat in the front row of the North Bank, just beside the goal.
I guess it would have been a bit of a wind up with both first half goals going in at the Clock End, I believe, and only a decent view of Lupoli's third, but I'm dead relieved we beat Reading and we might yet have the prospect of a home draw in the next round, so I can bid a personal farewell to the North Bank. With three ex-Arsenal players returning with Reading, I was convinced the likes of Sidwell, Harper and Stack were going to come back to haunt us. Yet it seems the kids did more than alright and so "big respek to the yout". Although they are gonna have to do a whole lot better if I am to get anywhere near achieving my objective of working my way around to say a personal farewell to every stand in THOF!
Mercifully I've just recovered from this bout of a dreadfully nasty lurgy just in time for the weekend and after three days in bed, I am currently sitting here wondering if I am actually mad enough to schlep all the way up to Bolton tomorrow. Assuming I don't oversleep in the morning, I think we all know the answer to that one! To miss one game was bad enough. Thankfully we won, as otherwise it would've been all my fault. But to miss two in a row would be sacrilege and would be asking for trouble. Bolton always seem to save their most obdurate performances for our visit to the Reebok and so I'm assuming we're going to need all the help we can get including my contribution of some doughty decibels :-)
I'd certainly risk a little relapse for the sake of three points at the Reebok tomorrow. Although the longer the season goes on without Mourinho's mob giving us a glimmer of hope by dropping the odd point, the more daunting the chase appears. We could certainly do with their aura of invincibility taking a little battering before they get to THOF in a couple of weeks, but I'll sure settle for the 'baby step' of beating them that day
But if I don't put a sock in it soon, I'll have no chance of getting up in time to catch a train to darkest Lancashire
Peace & Love
Bernard
e-mail to: londonN5@gmail.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
