Gooner's Diary....

....has gone to goonersdiary.blogspot.com

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

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!
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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

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.
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(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

One For You, Two For Titi

Sadly my youth wasn’t sufficiently misspent and so despite my teenage ‘barnet’ being coiffured into the obligatory wedge, the tapered ‘pegs’ and the plastic sandals, I might’ve had the look down pat, but I never actually made it north for the infamous ‘soul boy’ weekenders. Whither the Ecstasy fuelled, frozen smiles on the faces of modern day fun-seekers, when they discover there was a regiment of fashion conscious Northern ravers dancing around the clock at the Wigan Casino all-nighters, long before they were conceived.

Thirty years later I dragged my creaking middle-aged bones out of bed at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning to schlep to Wigan. Doubtless the grand old Casino is probably just another bingo hall by now. Or as is the destiny for my own beloved Highbury, perhaps it’s been redeveloped into a block of flats, filled with residents who are completely oblivious to the ghosts of the past that haunt their historic abode. But I wasn’t off on a pilgrimage of Northern Soul. I was seeking entertainment of another sort, heading for my first ever visit to the JJB, fully expecting a hearty helping of food for my footballing id.

It’s been a while since I risked my Arsenal fix on the shambolic nature of the rail network at weekends. However while there are invariably engineering works that mean you can never guarantee your arrival time, unfortunately the trains often depart on the dot. Especially when one is hoping otherwise!

Running up the escalator from the tube, I charged into Euston with my chest heaving, cursing my noxious fag habit, just as the clock ticked to the due departure time of the early train. I might’ve made it if I’d known the platform. But by the time I’d sucked in sufficient breath to enquire, it was too late and I was left wandering the station for an hour, searching for the reassuring sight of similarly tardy Gooners,

In fact I was far from alone and soon stopped fretting (and sweating!). If I was going to travel all that way, only to miss kick-off, at least I wouldn’t be alone. So I spent much of the journey recounting tales of weekend railway woes, putting the wind up those gullible Gooners who assumed they could rely on a timetable that told of an arrival in Wigan 30 minutes before KO.

They thought I’d been pulling their legs when the train arrived as predicted and after stretching mine with a brisk walk, believe it or not, I made it to the JJB just as the teams were entering the arena. I’m such a superstitious sod that I was half-tempted to lap the stadium until I was suitably late and nearly did so, in search of a matchday programme. But I soon discovered that they’d all sold out to a record 25 thousand crowd. This included a surprisingly substantial Gooner contingent, considering it was an early KO, so far from home and was live on the box.

Naturally we teased the Wigan fans that they’d “only come to see the Arsenal” and 2-0 up after only 20 minutes, we were in great humour behind our goal, with a hearty chorus suggesting the Lactics “should’ve stuck to the rugby”. However with our hapless defending, it occurred to me that the home side didn’t need any further inspiration for a fightback. The team Paul Jewell has cajoled to such lofty Premiership heights weren’t about to lie down and play dead.

It should’ve been game over when Thierry Henry established a two-goal cushion for the second time, with an absolutely unstoppable free-kick worthy of winning any game. But it seems no-one told Wigan and next thing we knew, they were once again exposing our obvious defensive frailties as Bullard (or “marathon man” according to Arsène) ensured they were breathing down our necks for the duration of the second half, by banging home Wigan’s 2nd on the stroke of half-time.

With so much disconcerting gossip about Titi’s apparent reluctance to renew his Arsenal contract, we Gooners are constantly trying to second-guess what’s going on in the head of our heaven sent striker. Perhaps more will be revealed when Henry gives a rare public interview on Parkinson next Saturday (as far as I know he hasn’t got a book to flog!).

In truth, with his vital goals (and assists), Thierry has virtually carried this Arsenal side almost single-handed over the course of the past couple of seasons. In some respects I could sympathise if he feels his brilliance is being taken for granted. In the belief that the players at Wenger’s disposal are coping admirably with the book balancing, minimum requirement of Champions League qualification, the Highbury bean counters have been guilty of putting all our fiscal eggs in the new stadium basket. Whereas if they’d been more familiar with the nuances of the beautiful game, they’d have enabled the replenishing of our squad with the sort of calibre of player Thierry’s incredible talent deserves.

I’m praying that at the end of the day Henry might put a higher value on his happiness as the biggest fish in the Arsenal pond, than on the filthy lucre others are prepared to throw his way. Sure he could end all the speculation by renewing his contract and still renege on it come the summer. Aside from committing financial suicide as far as his personal interests are concerned, I happen to think Henry would hate to be cast as such an unscrupulous scoundrel.

Perhaps I'm being naive, but horror of horrors, if Thierry does end up leaving, I don't think it’ll be because the fiscal grass at the Nou Camp is so much greener, nor do I think he'd go because of any false illusions about improving his Champions League prospects. Anyone who watched El Clasico this weekend can be sure Titi was doing likewise. It's bloomin' obvious that such an ‘artist’ is bound to sit there contemplating how much more beautiful a mark he might leave on this magical game, if given the opportunity of playing alongside similarly talented stars like Ronaldihno and Messi.

Whereas there might be times when Henry feels frustrated by the handicap of some of Highbury’s less gifted individuals. Cygan was the scapegoat on Saturday but poor Pascal was far from alone in being culpable. His unfamiliarity with the left-back role resulted in our entire defence looking decidedly ‘didgy’. They were all guilty of uncharacteristic, schoolboy errors, against what is hardly the Premiership’s greatest strikeforce. I was gobsmacked to see the likes of Campbell left for dead, after sliding in and going to ground far too easily.

Battling it our for a half-time cuppa, amidst a dangerously dense throng that had dads hauling kids onto their shoulders in search of some oxygen, I found myself pondering Henry’s predicament. After conjuring up yet another couple of peaches in the first-half, I imagined him sitting there, wondering exactly what he has to do to win this game. As much as it pains me, I can understand his wariness until he sees which way the North London wind blows.

I asked Arsène afterwards if he’d specifically tasked Ljungberg with tracking the runs of Chimbonda, as a prelude to raising every Arsenal fans’ concerns over the patently obvious problem of Pascal being exposed for pace at left-back. Skirting around the subject with the sort of diplomatic skills that would suggest he could have a successful career running for public office, Wenger’s only concession to criticising one of his own, was his admission that he’d swapped Pires and Ljungberg around from the start, as Freddie might offer Cygan more support on that flank. I only hope that the lid has been put firmly back on the Pandora’s box of defensive frailties associated with Cygan as cover at left-back, long before the gobby Mourinho’s mob come a calling!

Wenger was almost out of the post-match press conference when he was asked if he’s still capable of being amazed by Henry’s ability. He replied “When people ask you to speak about him, I just say watch him...it’s the best you can do”. At which point a Red-Top wag piped up “Barcelona?” The rest of the media rat-pack cracked up when, quick as a flash, our glorious leader came back with “Barcelona is a city, near the sea...1.5 million people, they speak Catalan!”

Apparently none too keen with being Ernie to Arsène’s Eric, in a room full of his peers (??), the journo tried to save some face by ploughing on regardless “But what’s the fee?”

“There’s no fee. We want to keep Thierry...of course it’s your job to create a story every week but Thierry’s 18 or 19 months from the end of his contract and we want to sort that situation out as soon as we can. We’re ready and when he’s ready he will do it” intoned Le Prof.

In the words of one of his sponsor’s previous ads, please Titi “JUST DO IT!”

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Hi folks

I'll do my best to be brief (not my greatest strength :-) as I'm hoping to type up the rest of Wenger's press conference while it's still relevant. As mentioned below, the matchday programmes were all sold out by the time I got to Wigan. Although fortunately I was able to cadge a read of one on the long journey home. Yet with the extremely rare incidence of there being absolutely no past history between the two clubs, the programme was a rather light on Arsenal related details.

However I had a little chuckle when I came to the standard pages with some brief details about the principal members of the Arsenal squad. I doubt there will be many Gooners who'll recognise the player responsible for such a dodgy performance at left-back on Saturday in the following description of Pascal Cygan:
"Tall, powerful centre-half who has added further strength and leadership to the backline following his signing from Lille in July 2002. Composed in possession, dominant in the air and capable of filling in all across the back lline, Pascal remains a useful squad member. Netted twice in 4-1 win over Fulham back in August"

I don't know who the joker was that was responsible for producing this precis of Pascal's talents. True Cygan did score twice against Fulham, but in relation to Sa

turday's pitiful performance the remainder couldn't have been further from the truth. So unless he was writing tongue in cheek, I certainly won't be asking the writer for next week's lottery numbers! According to a piece in Friday's Evening Standard, apparently Arséne's faith in Cygan was due to the fact that the Frenchman started his career at left-back. It's the sort of comment I can imagine a player making merely in the hope of getting a first-team look in.

I might mention that I played a few games in goal as a youngster but I wouldn't dream of suggesting that this makes me capable of minding goal in a vital match. Moreover I don't like criticising a player for a lack of natural ability, if they've given their all, but for starters, you have to bear in mind that Cygan certainly isn't the greatest centre-back on the planet. Therefore I'm sure I can't be alone in finding it more than a little disconcerting to think that there have been coaches in Pascal's past who've suggested a change of position at some point, believing him to be more suited to centre-back than full-back!

Perhaps we should give Wenger and Cygan the benefit of the doubt, as it was his first outing in this position. Nevertheless I imagine a substantial majority of Gooners will all be hoping it was his first and last, as he certainly didn't look familiar to his new role and whether or not there's room for improvement, quite frankly he's not going to become any quicker and thus he's always going to lack the necessary pace.

The back line is the one area on the field that is most likely to suffer from sudden changes and an unfamiliar line-up, as the entire defence needs to be 100 per cent certain what all their colleagues are going to do in any given situation. As a result I thought everyone suffered on Saturday from Cygan's introduction. For example there were several instances where Cygan wandered infield, neglecting the opposition's wide man and causing indecision elsewhere for the likes of Sol and Kolo. We were left vunerable in the middle more than once, with neither of them knowing quite whether to stick or twist.

What's more even if Pascal's positional play should improve dramatically, our opponents attackers will be queuing up to dance past our leadenfooted Lurch lookalike. Additionally if Ljungberg is obliged to provide cover in this respect down our left flank in every match, we are bound to lose something offensively. Not to mention I can't quite envisage Pascal haring past Henry on the overlap! Personally I would much prefer to see Arsene experiment with either the extremely versatile Kolo, Lauren or Eboue playing in the left-back slot because at least all three of them have the advantage of natural pace

Or bearing in mind how Ashley got his big break, perhaps it's time to give one of our youngsters a bite of this cherry. At least there'd be some consolation with any resulting rickets, in knowing one of the kids would be learning from his mistakes. Whereas Pascal's probably long since reached the limits of his learning curve and even Arsene might struggle teaching this particular old dog some new tricks.

Whereas if the dubious defending by everyone in a redcurrant shirt at the JJB, left me with a few more gray hairs come the final whistle, if Arsene persists with Pascal at left-back, I'll be as bald as the slaphead Frenchman long before we're faced with the frightening prospect of Wright-Phillips prancing past him.

Ironically there was another piece in the Wigan programme in which centre-back Henchoz had written his thoughts on "How to keep Thierry Henry quiet" Talk about tempting fate! Perhaps Henchoz should have deferred to his highly educated captain and defensive partner, Arjan De Zeeuw, who came out with some particularly insightful and magnanimous post-match comments. When questioned about Henry and the talk of Barca's interest in our star striker he revealed:

"It would be a massive loss to Arsenal and to football in this country if he left next summer.....He apologised to me when I was booked for what was a rash challenge but which didn't hurt him at all. He came over and said, 'I'm sorry, I didn't want to make a meal of it or get you booked'. He's not that type of player anyway. He is one of the more honest players around. People think he is arrogant, because of the way he carries himself, but he's not like that at all. At the end of the game he said we were a bit unlucky, and genuinely he is a nice guy. The problem is he does try to lure you into a feeling of well-being, and then sprints away to score a goal, before jogging back and saying, 'Sorry mate.' But the one thing he is not is a stitch-up merchant."

On the face of it, taken in isolation, Thierry's stern faced posturing subsequent to another oh so special free-kick, could be interpreted as arrogant, but in context he was just taking the piss out of Graham Poll, as we discovered later. Perhaps it was as a result of allowing Titi to pull a fast one with a quick free-kick against Chelsea and receiving some flak for the resultant goal, that Poll chose to be more pedantic and made Henry wait for the whistle on this occasion. So after the ball nestled in the back of the net, having glanced in off the post with pinpoint accuracy and sufficient pace to slide past the despairing fingertips of Filan, I guess Thierry couldn't resist turning to Poll to enquire "Is that enough?" (I assume meaning, whether he'd waited long enough).

Savouring the fact that we'd scored three seemingly effortless goals, as I read on the train home about Wigan's amazing recent defensive record and how they'd previously maintained a clean sheet during eight and a half hours of football (up until they encountered the Arsenal!), in the absence of any past matches with the Gunners to write about in the programme, there was mention of our one and only previous outing to play Wigan Borough. According to the newspaper clipping this took place in the climate of the post first World War depression, back in May 1921.

You'd be amazed what minutae one can find to occupy the mind on a tediously long train journey back to London, but it sure beat the details about the modernisation of Virgin trains printed in the freebie 'in-flight' magazine, as I discovered:
"In spite of the fact that spending money is scarce in the town, close upon 3,000 paid for admission. It was decided after kick-off to throw open the gates and several hundred miners and other unemployed were admitted. A percentage of the gate money was earmarked for local unemployment district funds, while collections for similar objects were made at the ground"

I certainly can't envisage any circumstances in which the money grabbing businesses that have become of our modern footballing institutions, would throw open their gates for the sake of such a socially charitable cause in these mercenary times

Better get on if I'm going to type up the press conference before we play Thun (or before my back refuses to let me remain at the computer any longer)

Peace & Love
Bernard


E-mail to: LondonN5@gmail.com

Never Mind Blowing, We’d Better Be Up For Bursting Some Bubbles This Weekend

Our club has offered reduced prices for Carling Cup matches in recent years. Yet after seeing the sensational 46,000 odd turn out for the last round in Sunderland, it’s great that the Arsenal have followed suit for our subsequent 4th round fixture against Reading. While they might not have instituted the admirable ‘kids for a quid’ scheme which inspired a full-house at the Stadium of Light, ticket prices of £20/10 for adults and £10/5 for kids will not only guarantee that Highbury is also heaving on the night, but for many Gooners it results in a rare chance of being able to afford to introduce their offspring to the joys of live footie.

This and the opportunity to witness the development of some of our much vaunted youngsters in a competitive environment are my customary reasons for hoping that we might progress in this particular tournament. I sincerely hope my fears prove unfounded, that ex-Arsenal trainee, Steve Sidwell could be inspired to come back and haunt us with Reading, as I’ve cause more than ever this year to hope for continued Carling Cup success.

One of the missus’ sisters was over from Dublin to meet our newborn grandson the other week. Cliona’s trip came with the added bonus of being able to use my seat for the Sparta Prague game, as I was fortunate to be offered a spare ticket in the East Lower, by a Gooner who I’d done a similar favour for in the past. However usually it’s only Carling Cup games that present an opportunity to sit somewhere other than our habitual marvellous Highbury pitch, as they are the only matches not included in our season tickets. So I’m hoping that our ongoing involvement in this competition might present me with the chance to work my way around the Home of Football, bidding a personal adieu to our ancient home, from each and every perspective the grand old stadium has to offer.

If this game should be televised, be sure to keep and eye out for us. On Friday I purchased two ten quid seats in the very front row of the North Bank, right behind the goal. And if the match goes to penalties, I’ll probably be the meshugana dropping my trousers, in my efforts to distract the Reading players!

Twenty quid for the two of us to watch a football match. If only the beautiful game was always so fairly priced, within reach of the average person’s pockets, as opposed to the extortionate140 quid we pay for our highly privileged Highbury pitch at every other match. Mind you if I’d dallied any longer over deciding where to sit, I’d have been forced to pay a fifty quid surcharge for our North Bank seats. My delight at bagging two together as close to the play as possible, immediately turned to dismay when to my horror, I turned around to find a traffic warden hovering around my motor.

There’s been such a furore in recent times over the despicable way in which local councils have abused parking regulations, merely as a means of raising revenue, with wardens indiscriminately taxing the public as they issue tickets willy-nilly, that these council employees now all appear to have been issued with digital cameras. Mercifully on this occasion I was back in my car and long gone before this warden was able to whip out his camera. In this respect I’m all for this new policy. In the past it would’ve been “sorry pal I’ve already written the ticket” and suddenly I would’ve had a whole lot more riding on what should otherwise be a rare unruffled Arsenal encounter.

Personally I’ve always contended that good PR aside, this reduction in ticket prices is sound economics. It doesn’t take a genius to sense a relatively urgent need for some regeneration of the Gooner audience. You only have to look around you at Highbury to appreciate the rapidly advancing average age. Most fans will confirm that although they might’ve once been somewhat dispassionate armchair viewers, you only have to savour the sensory overload of a single draught from the fountain of that live matchday atmosphere as a child to be intoxicated for life. Thus any one-off reduction in ticket revenues must be negligible, compared to the vast sums accrued over the course of a lifetime of replica shirts sales etc. etc. from those addicts hooked by their first Highbury hit.

Most other times I understand it takes military planning to obtain a general sale seat at Highbury, three months in advance of matches. Taking the kids is out of the question unless you can afford to pay full whack, as apparently it’s almost impossible to acquire any seats in our fun-sized family enclosure. At the AGM our bean counting MD was touting the fact that this will be increased to 4,500 at our marvellous new gaff (no one’s paying me to advertise an Arabic airline!). Yet to my mind its incredibly disappointing to think that less than 10% of the 60k capacity will be available as concession tickets.

The scissors principle of supply and demand was about the only topic that stuck during 2 years tedious study of economics. I therefore assume the club are disinclined to cater for kids, when they can flog the same seats at full price. Far be it from me to preach treason but if a fallow period on the pitch for the Arsenal was reflected in row upon row of vast empty spaces at our beautiful new stadium, at least this might come with the consolation of a child friendly pricing policy in order to fill all the seats vacated by the fair-weather fans.

It’s sad to think of generations of kids whose experience of live football is limited to perhaps an annual treat. They’ll know little of the joys of the sanctity of a football stadium on a Saturday afternoon, where a kid can participate in their parent’s effing and blinding at the officials, without any recrimination. Moreover there’s not much that can compare with the sort of bonding experience of the unbridled celebrations that accompany a great goal. Nor can there exist any more ‘quality time’ than sharing the traditional derby day battering of Tottenham.

The fondest memories of my suburban childhood back in the early 70s are related to the footballing rituals I shared with my own dear departed dad. He was a fan of the game, rather than just a devotee of the Gunners. So whether it was to White Hart Lane, or to Highbury, it always made my weekend when at Saturday lunchtime he’d suggest we stroll down to the main road, to wait for a passing acquaintance on route to the ground, to stop and give us a lift.

I pity the poor modern day progeny who’ll never get to experience the thrill of such spontaneous hedonism. A goalless draw was no disaster back then, as there was always next week. Whereas I guess kids these days spend months hoping that their heroes won’t be injured or suspended for their annual Highbury high and that they’re guaranteed some goals with their gold dust ticket.

Meanwhile those who schlepped to Switzerland on Saturday certainly weren’t disappointed. It made a pleasant change to actually find myself enjoying an England encounter. I was just disappointed the Argies’ side didn’t include the latest prodigy to inherit the Maradonna mantle, Barca’s in form Messi. While Sven left out Sol, elsewhere in the Alps, Senderos was scoring again with his bonce as the Swiss battled it out with the Turks in a crucial World Cup play-off.

For fans of clubs whose players are scattered to all four corners of the planet during these International breaks, it’s like watching an impending train wreck. Having already endured the sight of Clichy limping off at the Lane on Friday night as the French U21s drew with England and after Van Persie did himself a mischief in training with the Dutch, I found myself holding my breath every time Henry went anywhere near the ball in a fairly vigorous friendly between France and Germany.

At this crucial period, when our finely tuned star turns are stretching every last sinew in their efforts to impress their national coaches and bag a precious World Cup berth, you just pray that by the time the last stragglers report back to London Colney at the end of the week, the Arsenal aren’t going to end up bearing the brunt of all their International exertions. After all I certainly don’t expect us to finally burst the Wigan bubble just by turning up!

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Hi Folks

I sat down to write my diary missive early Monday morning, before dashing off to earn some proper money and after such a great game between England and the Argies on Saturday and with Ireland having dropped off the International map with their unfortante World Cup exit, it proved a particularly awkward task. Writing this piece primarily for an Irish paper (well actually don't tell the sports editor, but in truth I'm writing with all you folk in mind and I'm just fortunate to be receiving some meagre recompense for my efforts at the same time!) I'd win few friends in the Emerald Isle if I produced a 1000 words on the World Cup prospects of the country that was responsible for so much misery over there. In the interests of diplomacy (not to mention self-preservation), I avoided the subject all together, apart from tacking on a couple of paragraphs towards the end, which I wouldn't be surprised to find edited out of the final version.

I'm the first to admit that for the most part, I consider International football little more than a nuisance that so often causes far too much disturbance as far as the Arsenal are concerned. Nevertheless when the time comes, doubtless I'll be glued to events in Germany next summer and there's no denying that I sat here savouring the last few minutes of Saturday's tasty appetiser with audible delight. No matter where your loyalties lie, I challenge any true lover of the beautiful game to remain impervious to the increasingly precocious talents of Wayne Rooney.

It's just amazing to think that all those who stand to profit from the potential feelgood factor of the forthcoming World Cup, all the businessmen, the governnent even, and basically most of the population of this country, they are all going to become increasingly dependent on the continued fitness and mental stability of one wayward young Scouser. Such is Wayne's importance that sod such trifles as the prospects of Man Utd, or the arguments over locking terrorists up for 90 days, if Tony Blair really wants to ensure his popularity, he should be passing a law to wrap Rooney up in cotton wool for the next six months.

Meanwhile I'll be tuning into the friendly between Italy and the Ivory Coast tonight, praying that Kolo Touré can contain some of his customary exuberrance. As I write, I'm not sure if he'll be joined on the pitch by his Arsenal colleague, right-back Manny Eboué, but with our defence for Saturday's match already depleted by injuries to our two recognised left-backs, Ashley Cole and Gael Clichy, we could well do without any further worries.

The most frightening aspect to our injury woes is the prospect that Wenger might be considering playing the hapless Pascal Cygan in their place. Assuming Kolo comes back to Highbury fit and healthy after his exertions for Les Elephantes, personally I'd prefer to see him played at left-back, with Campbell and Senderos in the centre, while our hapless bald Lurch remains where he can do least harm, keeping the bench warm.

I was surprised Arsene didn't give the Phillipe a run-out at some point against Sunderland. In all honesty I can't see Wenger as a vindictive sort, yet there have been times in the past when a player's made a crucial mistake which has cost us points and has subsequently disappeared out of the picture completely for a time, as if serving his punishment. Considering Senderos started the season as a mainstay of the team, with Sol somewhat marginalised, it's easy to make similar assumptions about the Swiss lad's absence in recent weeks. Perhaps Senderos was responsible for lapses in concentration which contributed to a couple of woeful results on the road. But it's wrong that he should be the scapegoat for what were the whole team's failings.

Still I happen to believe that Campbell's return couldn't have been more timely. After starting the season without both Vieira and Campbell and with the lightweight likes of such relative schnips as Fabregas, Flaminin and Pires, this distinct lack of stature suddenly meant that we weren't nearly such an imposing proposition for many of our opponents. Thus I am sure Sol's return made an important difference as you can imagine his physical presence having an impact even before a ball was kicked, just standing in the tunnel.

However I'm certain it won't be long before Campbell is crocked again. Personally I believe Sol's reached a stage where he is sufficiently injury prone that we will be lucky if he's available for 50 per cent of the season. What's more I firmly believe that Senderos happens to be about the only player in the current Arsenal squad with the genuine character traits of true captain material and while sadly Sol might have reached the point in the cycle of his career where it's all downhill, hopefully Senderos will prove to be the future

Moreover, with the Ivory Coast one of the firm favourites for the African Nations Cup, you have to bear in mind that we are likely to lose Kolo (and Eboue?) come January for what could prove to be an extended run for Les Elephantes in this competition. As a result, to my mind it would be much better to bring Senderos back in now, rather than being forced to to throw him to the lions at a later date, coming back at a crucial stage with little competitive match practice. We saw evidence on Saturday from Wayne Bridge of the potential risks of giving a run out to a rusty player when the pressure is on and who knows what long-term damage might be done if Senderos should be found wanting in similar circumstances.

I've not seen for myself how Senderos played against Turkey in the play-offs, but to my mind if he's capable of contributing to Switzerland's inclusion in the World Cup, then providing he doesn't come back knackered, Wigan should hold no fears for him.

Who would've possibly imagined back in August that we'd be going to the JJB this weekend, worried about how we're going to stop the mighty Wigan from scoring! As one James Greaves might say "It's a funny old game"

Peace & Love
Bernard

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e-mail to: londonN5@gmail.com

Wanna Buy Any Second-hand Telescopes?

It seemed that just when the tabloid sheep should've been writing about Chelsea's perceived wobble in Europe and the Worthless Cup, the Blues' shrewd manager found a means by which he was able to deflect attention from his team, as the entire media world focused on the arrogant one's barney with Wenger. I can see no other explanation for his unwarranted outburst.

I'm not sure whether it reflects on the smutty minds of the readers or the writers? But the 'red tops' back page rat-pack are invariably true to their scurrilous rodent traits, sprinting straight up the drainpipe of a story with the slightest hint of salacious undertones. Neither Wenger, nor myself will ever forget the attempted character assassination on his arrival at the club. Supposedly it was a money motivated Spurs supporter in the City who dreamt up the despicable paedophile slur, in an effort to affect the Arsenal's share price. I happened to be walking past Highbury that very day and I've vivid memories of the shameful way the journos hounded Pat Rice along Avenell Road, trying in vain to hassle Arsène's assistant into slipping up, with the slightest substantiation of the sick rumours "Come on Pat, you must've travelled on scouting trips with him"!

In light of these disgraceful first experiences with the dregs of British tabloid journalism, within days of taking the Arsenal job, I wouldn't have been surprised if Wenger had packed his bags and headed straight back to the relative tranquillity of Japan. Meanwhile Mourinho might've been wise to bear this backdrop in mind, before opening his big gob.

Arsène is no more interested in Chelsea than the millions of other aficionados of the beautiful game. We've all been scanning the Blue horizon in hope of the first signs of some fallibility. It just so happens that our manager is being asked to give his opinion on the subject on a more regular basis. What's more, if Arsène's a voyeur, doesn't that make Chelsea's manager an exhibitionist? Besides with Mourinho's supposed 120 page dossier, you have to wonder exactly who's "voyeuring" who - also can it be mere coincidence that he only mentioned this detailed record after Arsène raised the possibility of litigation)!

There's been some speculation as to why an inoffensive Arsène arouses so much animosity amongst some of his peers. Perhaps it's a businesslike approach that precludes him from exchanging social pleasantries over a glass of post-match vino. Although having witnessed the team's awayday routine, I envisage a far more pragmatic excuse, in Wenger not wanting to keep an entire coach load of the Arsenal contingent waiting to commence their tiring return journey, while he quaffs wine with his opposite number.

Personally I feel some of his fellow managers have the needle, due to the fact that they fail to command the same sort of reverence amongst the media that's afforded to Arsène. While the majority of managerial press conferences are informal, jocular affairs, Wenger's scientific and somewhat professorial demeanour engenders a scholastic aura, whereby the journos seem to think they might have something to learn from Arsène's insights. It might not be apparent in their columns, but there's no mistaking the contrasting way in which Wenger's press conferences are conducted in a teacher/pupil type atmosphere.

Myself I've always believed that the nuances of the game are hardly a Gordian knot. To the contrary, football's greatest exponents are often only at their very best when performing with a simplistic grace. There was no escaping the sense that our encounter with Sunderland at Highbury was merely an hors d'oeuvres to Sunday's Mancunian main course. However we blew away the bottom feeding Black Cats with the sort of crisp incisive ball skills that left Sky's Andy Gray with the impression that "Arsenal are back in business".

Meanwhile Sunderland slug it out, struggling to preserve their precious pitch on the Premiership gravy train, Surely the Wearsiders would give their right arms to be enjoying the sort of artistry we Gooners get to witness on such a regular basis. Thus it was understandable that their fans felt the need to taunt us "2-0 and you still don't sing!" Although having finally found some form, few will appreciate that it's far too easy to become blasé about our fabulous football. At times, even I've sat back in absolute awe of some of the best football I've seen and forgotten to show my appreciation.

There was a moment during the game when we all managed to make some noise, as every Gooner in the ground gave thanks for the greatest (certainly the most entertaining) player on the planet. Henry received the ball in the area, with his back to goal and with sufficient space and time to turn and slot. A mundane player would've concentrated on merely securing a more comfortable goal margin. Whereas Titi had to attempt the extraordinary, flicking the ball up and executing a brilliant bicycle kick. He was only the width of a post away from scoring the goal of the season. Apparently the Frenchman's philosophy is why should he simply put the ball in the back of the net, when there's the possibility of conjuring up something far more special. We're often accused of failing to kill off weaker opposition, but we can hardly complain when this inability proves quite so pleasurable.

A Sky engineer was due round here on Sunday to install a new digibox and I was fretting that he might interfere with my afternoon's viewing. I can't ever recall feeling quite so much nervous anticipation about a game that didn't involve the Arsenal. Mercifully our TV was back up and running in time to enjoy the big match. Although "endure" would be far more apt, what with Utd hanging on for grim death during the last half hour. If our poor pooch, Treacle, wasn't already sufficiently freaked out by firework bangs, my bellowing at Utd to at least try and retain possession instead of hoofing the ball straight back to the Blues, had her cowering in a corner.

The greatest advantage Mourinho has over the competition is a subs bench stuffed with players capable of having an impact in most cases. By contrast, despite the fact that Utd had completely run out of steam following their first-half efforts, Fergie didn't have sufficient faith in his substitutes to bring on some fresh legs. I've not stopped drinking since Poll blew the final whistle, in an effort to wash away the bitter taste that stuck in my craw after cheering the Moaners on to a memorable victory.

When our Invincibles set their 49 game unbeaten run, many fans imagined we'd never see the like again. It would've been awful if the Blues had eradicated our amazing record quite so soon. However sadly I'm unable to swallow the bunkum that this one bad result has blown the title race wide open. Unfortunately, in truth Mourinho has so much strength in depth that even over the course of our marathon season, it's hard to envisage many more teams managing to triumph over them. Unless the Toon can turn the Blues' blip into a fully fledged crisis in the following match, for the moment I'm just happy that the fat lady has been thwarted from clearing her throat and that at least the Blues have been prevented from turning the title race into a boring procession just yet.
________________________________________________________________


Hi folks

It was positively barmy on Sunday, thinking of all the billions of football fans around the globe settling down in front of their TVs to cheer Utd on to beating Chelsea. Especially all of us Gooners.

Obviously in the interests preventing Chelsea from disappearing out of sight and ensuring that the title race doesn't turn into one of the most boring in the history of the Premiership, it was perfectly understandable that we were all hoping for Utd to do everyone a favour by exposing a chink in Chelsea's vulcanised armour. More's the point, I would have been devastated if the incredible achievement of the Arsenal's Invincibles had been cheapened if Chelsea had managed to steal our thunder only a couple of seasons after we'd rewritten the record books.

However unless you believe the wheels are about to come off the Abramovich bandwagon and like me, you can't imagine more than a couple of Premiership sides with sufficient 'cahones' to take points off the current title holders, in truth, from a less emotive and more pragmatic perspective, we Gooners might have benefited more by avoiding a truce with our more traditional enemy in the hope of seeing Utd get well and truly stuffed.

My feeling is that Utd's narrow victory will eventually only delay the inevitable and hopefully maintain some interest in domestic matters until after Xmas. If this should prove to be the case, then it's probably far more likely that we will end up battling with the Moaners at the tail end of the season for the consolation prizes, in the hope that our players might be able to prevent a shortened summer break and the possibility of having to come back early to play a problematic Champions League qualifier.

Nevertheless I can't honestly imagine that there were many Gooners capable of considering Sunday's encounter in Manchester from such a detached and dispassionate point of view, as myself included, we were all desperate to see Mourinho's mob taken down a peg or two and our record remaining intact.

We'll have to wait to discover if Chelsea's defeat is going to have a serious psychological impact on their confidence and whether the extra week, with the break for Internationals, is going to compound this effect by giving them time to brood on it, or give them all a better chance to get it out of their system

The thing is that from what we saw of the match on TV, it wasn't as if Chelsea were exactly overrun at Old Trafford. Utd only managed to achieve a modicum of success by running their socks off in the first-half and as the reds began to flag after the break, they really struggled to hang onto their single goal lead.

In fact as Mourinho attempted to rescue a result with his substitutions, it was very strange to see Fergie standing on the sidelines, his side so obviously struggling to hold back the Blue tide, yet apparently completely impotent, unable to call on the services of any substitutes who might have an impact on proceedings by re-establishing control of the game. To my mind with his inaction, it was as if old red nose was utterly resigned to the fact that Utd do not possess sufficient strength in depth to dominate Mourinho's men. If you ever needed it, Fergie standing there with gritted teeth, his arms folded across his chest, feeling absolutely helpless, was all the confirmation required of the changing of the Premiership guard

By contrast while Sean Wright-Phillips might have proved somewhat ineffective when he came on, the introduction of Gudjohnsen appeared to give Chelsea the impetus which nearly resulted in a different outcome all together - I am sure I wasn't the only one who was convinced it was going to prove a total tease as fate intervened with a last gasp equaliser?

In fact the Icelander was sufficiently impressive that I began to have some appreciation why Mourinho chose to play him on his own up front against Betis. Watching Chelsea's defeat in the Champions League earlier in the week, I questioned Mourinho's managerial acumen. On the back of a dreadful start to the season for Betis that has left them in the bottom four of La Liga, it seemed as if Mourinho had made a right ricket by giving the Spaniards battered confidence a leg-up with his unambitious line-up. For by the time he brought on Drogba and Duff after the break, Betis' first-half performance had restored some of their confidence and inspired enough belief for them to be able to hang on for a victory.

At the time my feeling was that Mourinho had made a mistake by failing to capitalise on the Spaniards fragile confidence and going for their throat. However it's all too easy for me to berate Mourinho's managerial ability with the benefit of hindsight and having witnessed Gudjohnsen's impact in the second half on Sunday, I am not quite so scathing about his part in Chelsea's European mishap.

Apart from the pure pleasure of witnessing the Portuguese manager's frustrated features in the dug-out on Sunday, another good side to this game as far as the Gunners are concerned, could be the fact Utd won't gain much confidence from this result to build on because they were so patently second best to the Blues for most of the time after the break.

However you never know in this game of ours and if Fergie is still worth his salt, he'll convince his squad to forget the fragile manner of their victory and focus on the psychological effect of putting one over on the Blues. While if it was down to wishful thinking, we'd be hearing the sound of Abramovich's crumbling house of cards as I type. Yet it's wrong to compare the end of Chelsea's unbeaten run to ours because they are far from like for like. If Mourinho wanted he could probably replace all eleven who played on Sunday with hungry, fresh faces of proven ability who'd probably show little sign of any ill effects against the Toon from the club's three dodgy results.

Sadly Arsène was in a much tighter pickle, tortured by trying to pick up the moral of same dozen players over the course of several weeks, without the luxury of an experienced replacement breathing down each of their necks. What's more I can't quite recall Utd struggling against us as we threatened to overrun them. So I'd be highly surprised if this suspect result materialises into Mourinho's downfall. You can but hope!

I texted the Utd fan who writes for the Examiner on Friday, with my best wishes for his team to stuff Chelsea. He might not have thought Utd had a hope, but I had this inkling they might get something from the game. I just felt that the big-headed likes of Ferdinand and Rooney wouldn't have fancied meeting up for the England game, having merely rolled over and handed bragging rights to Lampard and Terry.

Although I imagine Ferdinand's almost faultless performance must be cause for much frustration. Personally I have no qualms when a player has a bad game, or a bad run of games, as everyone is entitled to a dip in form. However if Ferdinand was capable of raising his game for Chelsea's visit, it would suggest that his previous inconsistencies are a result of a lack of focus that reflects in his basic motivation.

Then again Ferdinand is no more guilty of having his head turned from producing the sort of 100 per cent concentration required on a football pitch these days, than any of the other multi-millionaire youngsters in the modern game. Myself I've almost been glad that Ashley Cole got a knock, as it's given us a chance to see Gael Clichy again.

Talk in the West Upper on Saturday suggested that according to someone who bumped into his agent, Ashley Cole's transfer to Real next summer is already a done deal. This doesn't surprise me in the least, as ever since the fall-out from the tapping up affair, my feeling has been that whilst the club wasn't going to be dictated to by the media, Ashley had burnt his bridges at THOF beyond repair. I don't mean to sound smug, but I suggested back then that they might have come to some arrangement, whereby if Cole agreed to keep his head down below the media scandal parapets and his nose clean for another season, he'd be allowed his extremely lucrative transfer come the summer, by mutual agreement.

You only have to see Ashley's bright white pearlers smiling out from the pages of another glitzy (tacky, more like!) spread in Hello magazine to appreciate that he's now a long way from the young lad who was steeped in the Arsenal tradition ever since he was in short pants. There was a time when there was no mistaking the Martin Keown style, never say die attitude in everything Ashley did in an Arsenal shirt. It left one utterly convinced that there remained at least one homegrown player on the pitch capable of inspiring his colleagues with a commitment which positively shouted that the outcome of our matches meant as much to him as it does to those of us on the terraces.

Some Gooners have contradicted the fact that I've questioned Ashley's motivation in recent times, by reminding me of specific incidents in certain matches this season. However I've felt that this is merely evidence of Ashley trying to maintain his claim to his "best left-back" moniker for more selfish reasons, either because he didn't fancy being shown up by some younger whipper-snapper, or perhaps because there's a World Cup coming up and he's wanted to catch Sven's eye in the stands. My belief is that the fact that such instances have stood out, when in the past Cole's entire game was similarly committed, this is evidence in itself of his waning hunger to graft for the good of "the team".

By contrast, Gael Clichy might've taken a few games to get the defensive rust out of his system (since reserve team football just doesn't have anywhere near the same intensity) but to my mind it would be a great pity if no sooner has he begun to find some form, than he's sent straight back to the stiffs. Personally I find it a refreshing change to find myself watching a player who's hunger cannot be questioned and who, if anything, is guilty of being a little too over enthusiastic. Thus so long as Gael continues to keep up his end, in a winning side, I for one hope Ashley doesn't just walk back into the side when fit but is forced to earn the right to wear the shirt. Especially when you consider that it's one of the few positions where we've genuine competition for places.


When the subject of Cole cropped up, my immediate neighbour in the West Upper suggested that Real would be offering us a straight swap with Baptista. I've not really seen enough of "the Beast" to decide whether it would be a good deal. I believe he's injured at the moment but from the Madrid matches he's been involved in which I've managed to catch, I have to admit that I've not been overly impressed with the Brazilian. With his size, pace and apparent limited ball control, he reminds me of a high-powered Emil Heskey, but perhaps this is unfair as Real have hardly been setting any fires and according to some folks, they've been playing Baptista out of position

However much Ashley's success has left him feeling he's little to prove any more, my biggest concern if he should depart, is that we might end up ever further from having that crucial core of home grown players. Arsène suggested at the AGM that the only way the club can compete with Chelsea is by developing the number of players produced on the Arsenal production line and I am all for this argument. Yet as we've seen at other clubs over the years, homegrown players capable of mounting a creditable challenge for first team selection tend to come in cycles.

We've had a pretty barren spell in recent times with Brady's boys. Wenger might disagree in public, but my contention is that youngsters like Touré, Fabregas, Senderos and Eboué ain't exactly engrained with the Arsenal spirit, having only arrived at the club relatively recently (although it must be said the they've all showed signs of being made of the "right stuff")

As we walked back from THOF a couple of weeks back, we were discussing forthcoming away matches. Obviously leaving the pooch on her own for long periods is a problem that prevents us both going but Ró was contemplating why it is that she's lost some of her enthusiasm in recent times for schlepping all over the country. It's certainly not down to the quality of entertainment on offer. No she believes that it might be the fact that there are no longer many players in the Arsenal squad that she can relate to.

This is a modern day malaise, that in these mercenary times doesn't just affect the Arsenal. However Ró received her Gooner education during a period when we were blessed with a hard-core backbone including the likes of WWW, Merson and our dinosaur back five. Whereas nowadays she looks at the back of the matchday programme and wonders who amongst the current squad is going to reproduce the sort of empathy we once knew, whereby there was no question of Martin Keown trotting straight off the pitch without connecting with us Gooners. You only had to take one look at Plug's ugly mush to know it meant as much to him as it does to us.

I am not saying that there aren't plenty of spirited players in the current Arsenal squad. For example one get the feeling that someone like Kolo would continue running until he dropped because he's so determined to avoid defeat and unlike the rich rat-pack which included the likes of Jenas and Dyer, there's no sense that Kolo has become the "big I am" who no longer appreciated quite how privileged he is to be getting paid such fortunes for a job we'd all do for free (or happily pay huge amounts for an opportunity to appear in red & white).

Nevertheless Touré didn't spend all his formative years at THOF and so when he's running his socks off, I can't help but wonder if he's motivated by far higher principles such as providing future security for his family first and foremost, rather than Kolo feeling such a responsibility to his Arsenal kith and kin that he's prepared to sacrifice himself for "the team". If the sort of players conjured up in my romantic imagination still exist, you couldn't possibly imagine them handing over potentially costly possession as they jump three foot in the air to avoid a hefty challenge. Nor would they be tentative going into a slide tackle, with the Arsenal coming a poor second behind the possibility that they might be risking their future earning potential, or the option of lucrative transfer prospects with the risk of an injury.

As a result, I guess when Ró is wondering whether she wants to bother schlepping hundreds up miles up north, or whether I should flog her ticket, it's hard to feel motivated if you get the feeling that many of our players might not be making the trip if they weren't receiving massive remuneration

I guess this is just something we are going to have to come to terms with all the more in the future as the trend for changing teams more often than ones underpants continues. Still it would certainly help to make us all feel a whole lot more secure and their team mates might be suitably inspired, if they were trotting out alongside at least a couple of youngsters who've been at the club since they were bairns and who've been indoctrinated (brainwashed!) with the sort of principles that they put the Arsenal before everything and only know how to play with 100 per cent commitment.

There is no real secret to Wigan's surprising success. They've been promoted into a Premiership that is extremely mediocre, apart from (hopefully!) a couple of teams and have therefore managed to achieve marginal victories, against sides that simply lack sufficient focus to endure, when faced with the sort of team spirit and togetherness that Paul Jewell has managed to inspire amongst his squad full of relative journeymen.

Everton's yo-yo period has proved that there's a fine line between relative success and abject failure and doubtless the Wigan bubble will also burst at some point. But that doesn't mean less tenacious teams that include any half-hearted players won't be caught with their pants down at the JJB

Meanwhile I'm absolutely fed up with these international breaks, especially when they fall just as we begin to find some form. I wonder how many of the Wigan players will be disappearing off to all four corners of the planet during the next couple of weeks. Instead of which Jewell will probably have most of his squad for the entire fortnight, to attempt to plot the downfall of team which will be arriving at the JJB, some with long flights still in their legs and other nursing knocks received in games where they might have been trying just a little too hard to secure highly prized places in a World Cup squad.

In what other "business" in the world would someone be allowed to borrow a multi-million pound asset every few weeks, expect you to continue paying for the upkeep whilst they use and abuse the finely tuned specimen, before sending back your broken down property for you to pay for the repairs which might just get your most crucial resource up and running again, just in time for the next loan request. You'd think anyone was downright potty to put up with such a preposterous situation?

Personally I'm a bit peeved to have discovered the U21 encounter between England & France U21 is taking place at WHL on Friday, as it clashes with dinner at my Ma's. Otherwise I would've avoided withdrawals from my footie fix, by enjoying my birthday watching Clichy & co perform in a rare, stress free 90 minutes. It's also a pity that there isn't a single Arsenal player involved for the home side

Since I still haven't been able to twist my Ma's arm, by persuading her that she can't live without un ugly satellite dish on the side of her precious abode (honest Mum, they are tiny and decidedly unobtrusive these days :-), I won't even be able to watch the game on the box. Ho hum I guess I will just have to settle for the chicken soup and some birthday cake instead

Big Love
Bernard


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