Forget pretty passing versus anti-football. Whether they liked it or not, and indeed whether we capitalised or not, we did dominate Chelsea. The ball spent considerably more time in their third than in ours, and it seemed as though we could have passed it around the edge of their area for weeks... albeit a bit pointlessly.
And forget Wenger's reluctance to splash out on expensive players. At least five of the regular XI who took us to the top of the table a couple of weeks ago were bought for such a relative pittance that even Portsmouth would have felt guilty had they been allowed to pursue such exploitative transfers in the recent window.
What Arsenal lacked yesterday was power, and the introduction of Nicklas Bendtner with only 25 minutes remaining made that abundantly clear. It was hardly as if we'd brought Thierry Henry on, yet he was the first Arsenal player to make the Chelsea defence worry and he was the only one who could work his way through without his team-mates surrounding him in a web of one-touch passes. Had he started, we could have turned our dominance and attractive attacking play - which in itself was a considerable improvement after our last couple of meetings with the West London outfit - into goals.
We've been losing games to powerful players like Drogba, Rooney and Ronaldo for years, and we can't keep playing the big teams without an equivalent. Abou Diaby's physical presence in the centre of the park was beneficial, and this was one of the reasons Wenger picked him; but one more player with his size and strength could have changed the game for us. Again, he didn't take over the midfield, but his physicality allowed him to make a few successful challenges and drive through with the ball at his feet. I don't know how Denilson would have contributed to our defending against yesterday's opponents, but after his performance against United I can only assume that wincing and covering his eyes might have been part of it.
In a way, yesterday was more frustrating than the United game because we really took the game to them. We were spraying passes all over the place and kept the ball for huge spells of the match, to the extent that we almost ran the game. Cesc and Nasri were freely knocking it around, and although they were often let down by Arshavin's decision-making, they stood out over the likes of Lampard and Ballack. Diaby supported his captain well in the midfield, while Song screened the defence capably.
But almost all of our players were guilty of one thing - more than ever, they just wouldn't shoot. A couple of long shots wouldn't have hurt, especially against an in-form goalkeeper who never looked like conceding from close range; and the fact that we've seen Cesc, Nasri and Arshavin all pull it off before made it still more vexing. Having accompanied us to the pub for a drink without much interest in the football, even my girlfriend ended up literally yelling at the television in a seething fit of rage after watching pass after pass come to nothing.
Efficiency was indeed the difference between the two teams. Chelsea are not only a highly athletic team, but they have the technical ability to finish off games, none more so than Didier Drogba. When they did go forward, they often hit us on the counter-attack, which used to be our hallmark - so for Arsene to complain afterwards was more than a touch unfair.
However, the hosts' superior resolve going forward was complemented by a big concern for us at the back. Sagna did well, and both of the centre-backs had good games (I couldn't believe how well Vermaelen took Florent Malouda's attempt to head his skull across the pitch), but Gael Clichy was nowhere near good enough.
The left-back had a poor first half, and was certainly accountable for the second goal. His panicked flitting back and forth between two forwards allowed them to spread out their counter-attack, and his dreadful positioning - I think Samir Nasri would have wanted his space back - left Vermaelen trying to contain his marker while covering for him.
He was also largely responsible for the first goal. Whatever possessed him to leave his position at the far post when the ball had barely left the corner flag, I couldn't quite fathom, but regardless of what is happening around your area you cannot immediately abandon your post and leave the goalkeeper exposed. Admittedly, he wasn't the only one: Vermaelen and Song let their markers go, and Fabregas wandered out of the area as it was all going on. But a player I considered to be one of the best left-backs in Europe is currently nowhere near the form he was on a couple of years ago, and he simply has to improve. The good news was that he grew into the second half, and I got the impression that Wenger had a few choice words for him during the break - however, I thought this in each of the last two games, and it's been a costly trend.
Anyway, the result was met with more panicking from fans and the media, but Wenger does deserve more empathy from both. Injuries have hit us hard as always - I don't need to point out that van Persie's absence has been particularly damaging, but the ongoing fitness problems of Eduardo, Nicklas Bendtner and Theo Walcott haven't done much to compensate for his loss. If one thing costs us silverware this year, it would almost certainly be the injury problem above all else, perhaps more so than the previous campaign. And yes, it would be extremely difficult, but we may well cut down the gap between ourselves and first place in the coming weeks - and even a three-point advance would make things look a lot better.
Although their aversion to shooting became infuriating at times, the team deserves credit for bringing their game to a difficult venue and playing far better than last weekend. The result wasn't much of an improvement, but a home tie against Liverpool with a much fitter line-up could be a good opportunity to bounce back.
One final note about our goalkeeper. I was disappointed with Almunia over the last two games, and I think it's time for a change between the sticks.
As is the case with several of our players at the moment, we know what he's capable of. Last season we were indebted to a run of brave, authoritative, and at times outstanding goalkeeping, without which fourth place may well have eluded our weak, limp-wristed grasp. But everytime he makes one or two mistakes, he just looks sullen and vulnerable, and his back four are losing their faith in him.
Yesterday, his confidence dropped lower in the face of a long-haired, headline-grabbing double-D than John Terry's trousers; and just like Terry's haggard, Droopy-Dog-like features, he was seriously punching above his weight. Responding to Didier Drogba's second by screaming and ducking while flailing his hands as if attempting to shoo a diseased house rat clearly set the stage for the second half, as he then dealt with what could easily have been the Ivorian's third by meekly watching it smash against the bar from the opposite side of his goal. Almunia has looked shakier than Jens Lehmann did before he lost his place in late 2007; accordingly, I think Fabianski should be given his chance against Liverpool.
Monday, 8 February 2010
Saturday, 6 February 2010
Chins up, chests out: tomorrow could go Arsenal's way
The line-up tomorrow should be an interesting one.
Wenger has a funny habit of trying to reassure himself about previous defeats, in that he will throw a trembling, traumatised youngster into the fray either against the very team that once placed him on the brink of nervous breakdown, or for the match immediately following a disastrous individual performance. He admitted this last season, and Lucasz Fabianski can attest to such a policy after several interesting outings against tomorrow's opponents. Philippe Senderos vs Didier Drogba is a prime example.
For this reason, there's a small chance we will see a change in goalkeeper. In the last month, Almunia has picked nearly as many balls out of his net as Vanessa Perroncel has picked naive Chelsea players to exploit, and Wenger might "keep the faith" and hope that he can return to form at the right time. On the other hand, Fabianski has some critics (largely Chelsea fans and those who watch the odd big game from time to time) to silence, and I wouldn't be surprised if the boss was at least considering a change.
In the last few days, Wenger has repeatedly stated that Abou Diaby 'might' be back from fitness, and seems to have attached as much importance to his availability as to that of Vermaelen this time last week. Diaby is another who has a messy history against Chelsea, but he has both matured and bulked up this season and I can see him making a big contribution if he starts tomorrow. If he doesn't make it, then hopefully feeling the colossal Frenchman's breath down his neck will motivate Denilson to improve on last week - or just not respond to losing possession by running slower than Tom Huddlestone after a Sunday roast.
That aside, the player who could make a real difference tomorrow is Nicklas Bendtner.
Over the last year he has been effective down either flank, but he's made it perfectly clear that he prefers the central position and is admirably confident that he will make it as a true striker. This will be a big chance, and I think he could take it; the team has sorely lacked variety up front without him and van Persie, something which it will need more than ever tomorrow. Giving a new dimension to our crafty passing moves and using his size, aerial ability and strength to compete with his markers, he could tear between John Terry and the rest of his defence nearly as effectively as a manipulative French hostess in a ₤400-to-use-the-toilet London nightclub.
John Obi Mikel might be rushed back from his post-ACN rest to fill the holding role in Michael Essien's absence, which could be glorious news for us. Whenever Fabregas has faced the holding midfielder, he seems to have been able to spray passes around without too much obstruction, and with Lampard now fronting their central diamond he won't be able to sit deeper and run the midfield like he did during that shocker at the Emirates last May. Furthermore, their right-back could be the 'weak link' out of the opposition back four; and if Arshavin is deployed down the left, he could be particularly deadly.
With Eduardo injured, the front three will definitely change. Both Nasri and Arshavin might start, but the final place should go to either Bendtner or Walcott. In any case, this is the first XI I think could get something out of the game, and one which may well be identical to the one we see at 4pm tomorrow:
Almunia
Sagna
Clichy
Gallas
Vermaelen
Song
Diaby
Fabregas
Nasri
Arshavin
Bendtner
With as much of a like-for-like swap up front as possible, this is virtually a full-strength team. With Walcott back to some form of fitness, we've got the option of letting him rip down the right-wing and reminding everyone of what he's capable of; the Chelsea players could see Ashley Cole more flustered than the last time he picked up a bill and saw the service charge. The bench should also look a bit more dependable this time round, with Rosicky, Ramsey and Eboue all in contention.
Stay optimistic Gooners - these boys have it in them to pull off a surprise.
Wenger has a funny habit of trying to reassure himself about previous defeats, in that he will throw a trembling, traumatised youngster into the fray either against the very team that once placed him on the brink of nervous breakdown, or for the match immediately following a disastrous individual performance. He admitted this last season, and Lucasz Fabianski can attest to such a policy after several interesting outings against tomorrow's opponents. Philippe Senderos vs Didier Drogba is a prime example.
For this reason, there's a small chance we will see a change in goalkeeper. In the last month, Almunia has picked nearly as many balls out of his net as Vanessa Perroncel has picked naive Chelsea players to exploit, and Wenger might "keep the faith" and hope that he can return to form at the right time. On the other hand, Fabianski has some critics (largely Chelsea fans and those who watch the odd big game from time to time) to silence, and I wouldn't be surprised if the boss was at least considering a change.
In the last few days, Wenger has repeatedly stated that Abou Diaby 'might' be back from fitness, and seems to have attached as much importance to his availability as to that of Vermaelen this time last week. Diaby is another who has a messy history against Chelsea, but he has both matured and bulked up this season and I can see him making a big contribution if he starts tomorrow. If he doesn't make it, then hopefully feeling the colossal Frenchman's breath down his neck will motivate Denilson to improve on last week - or just not respond to losing possession by running slower than Tom Huddlestone after a Sunday roast.
That aside, the player who could make a real difference tomorrow is Nicklas Bendtner.
Over the last year he has been effective down either flank, but he's made it perfectly clear that he prefers the central position and is admirably confident that he will make it as a true striker. This will be a big chance, and I think he could take it; the team has sorely lacked variety up front without him and van Persie, something which it will need more than ever tomorrow. Giving a new dimension to our crafty passing moves and using his size, aerial ability and strength to compete with his markers, he could tear between John Terry and the rest of his defence nearly as effectively as a manipulative French hostess in a ₤400-to-use-the-toilet London nightclub.
John Obi Mikel might be rushed back from his post-ACN rest to fill the holding role in Michael Essien's absence, which could be glorious news for us. Whenever Fabregas has faced the holding midfielder, he seems to have been able to spray passes around without too much obstruction, and with Lampard now fronting their central diamond he won't be able to sit deeper and run the midfield like he did during that shocker at the Emirates last May. Furthermore, their right-back could be the 'weak link' out of the opposition back four; and if Arshavin is deployed down the left, he could be particularly deadly.
With Eduardo injured, the front three will definitely change. Both Nasri and Arshavin might start, but the final place should go to either Bendtner or Walcott. In any case, this is the first XI I think could get something out of the game, and one which may well be identical to the one we see at 4pm tomorrow:
Almunia
Sagna
Clichy
Gallas
Vermaelen
Song
Diaby
Fabregas
Nasri
Arshavin
Bendtner
With as much of a like-for-like swap up front as possible, this is virtually a full-strength team. With Walcott back to some form of fitness, we've got the option of letting him rip down the right-wing and reminding everyone of what he's capable of; the Chelsea players could see Ashley Cole more flustered than the last time he picked up a bill and saw the service charge. The bench should also look a bit more dependable this time round, with Rosicky, Ramsey and Eboue all in contention.
Stay optimistic Gooners - these boys have it in them to pull off a surprise.
Thursday, 4 February 2010
Are there more secrets to come out before Arsenal play Chelsea?
(Fictional)
With moments to go before kick-off, Stamford Bridge was rocking. Harry J Allstars were playing over the tannoy, and the sizeable, facially deformed beasts in the home stand were shuffling their elephantine feet and clapping out of time. In the away end, the Arsenal fans were chanting about the delights of being a Gooner, and politely informing their hosts that the West London club lacked any real history.
Beneath the stands, the teams were preparing for their crunch match.
Carlo Ancelotti strolled into the home dressing room and clapped his hands. "Right-ah, listen up. We will go over the game plan once more-ah, and then we will be ready. Defenci, what do you do?"
He turned to the back-four, who were sat together on the near bench.
Ricardo Carvalho was smiling absently back at him, his hairline receding by the second and stray hairs floating delicately around his shoulders in a dark, fluffy cloud. In stark contrast, Branoslav Ivanovic was glaring at the floor, his eyes twitching maniacally and his lip curling as he struggled to remember his instructions. Ashley Cole was busy raiding his team-mates' lockers for spare change, and John Terry seemed preoccupied with his phone.
Ancelotti cleared his throat. "John?"
Terry looked up. "Oh, sorry boss. I was just texting Joe's w... my wife, to make sure she got to the stadium okay."
Ancelotti clapped his hands. "Pay attention! So, defenders -"
"Mister Ancelotti," a muffled voice interrupted.
The players turned to see Frank Lampard in the corner of the dressing room, struggling to speak as his podgy fingers frantically crammed a double cheeseburger into his mouth. Smears of ketchup, mayonnaise and grease adorned his cheeks and chin, and crumpled fast food wrappers were littered across his wide lap. Rolls of blubber were spilling out of his overly tight shirt, and his arm flab quivered wildly as he raised his other hand.
"When we have a late kick-off, what time's dinner again?"
Frustrated, Ancelotti glanced at the clock and held both hands out. "We haven't got time for this. Now listen -"
"Do my cornrows look okay?" Florent Malouda enquired, inspecting his reflection in the industrial amounts of hair wax oozing down Michael Ballack's forehead.
Ancelotti continued, raising his voice. "Please, will you all -"
"Mister Ancelotti, maybe Paolo play today?" Ferreira smiled hopefully, knocking his knees together and twiddling his thumbs.
"That's enough!" Ancelotti bellowed. "Listen to me!"
But no sooner had he caught their attention than the referee knocked on the door and stuck his head in. "The Arsenal players are waiting, you're late."
The Chelsea players headed for the door, stretching their upper bodies and psyching themselves up. Terry and Ivanovic heaved Lampard's wobbling, whale-like frame towards the tunnel, while Ashley Cole hastily poured his findings into his locker and scurried after them, a few remaining coins jingling in his shorts.
His players stampeding past him, Ancelotti stood on his toes and called out last-minute instructions. "Two of you stick to Fabregas at all times! And remember, Didier - if in doubt, fall and shout!"
Petr Cech strapped on his gloves and lumbered towards the door, his long arms lolling at his sides.
Ancelotti rushed after him and waved his arms. "Petr! Watch out for-"
Cech's head smashed into the doorframe. The goalkeeper keeled over, grasping his helmet and shouting Czech obscenities. "I be fine, I be fine," he spluttered, staggering dazedly into the tunnel.
The players lined up alongside the visitors, jumping up and down on the spot and flexing their necks. Malouda conversed with some of the French players, while Ashley Cole avoided making eye-contact with his former team-mates and picked distractedly at the wall.
"John," Drogba whispered, as Terry walked past to take his position at the front. He grabbed the captain by the arm and took him aside. "I just thought you should know, if you are anxious about the whole Vanessa thing... You are not alone. I had a fling with her too."
Terry was incredulous. "What?!"
"Yes," Drogba whispered. "I saw her for a while. Some of the others did too. So don't let it get to you today, worry about it another time. We need the three points."
"But... how did this come about?"
Drogba looked around to make sure none of the Arsenal players were listening. Samir Nasri, who had clearly been eavesdropping, nervously averted his gaze and suddenly took great interest in the sponsor's logo on his shirt.
The striker turned back to his captain. "We spent an evening in, just doing each other's ponytails and making luck bracelets, and it just sort of... happened. It lasted a few weeks and we got a bit serious." He sighed, a look of longing in his eyes. "We were meant to go diving in the Seychelles. But someone else moved in on her and it never happened."
Ashley Cole stuck his head out from behind Terry, an obnoxious smirk spreading across his face. "Yeah, sorry Drog," he sneered in a caustic tone. "That was me."
John Terry raised an eyebrow, amazed by the extent of her promiscuity within the Chelsea circle. "And where did you take her, Ashley?"
"We went to this restaurant on the edge of town..." Cole's smug expression faded, and his eyes glazed over with nostalgia. "We had a proper candle-lit dinner. She looked... gorgeous. We drank wine and laughed for hours, and afterwards I took her dancing. We came back through the city centre in a limo and looked at all the lights along the Thames."
The tunnel had fallen silent. Terry and Drogba exchanged sceptical glances, while the Arsenal players sniggered. Even Mikael Silvestre seemed to have clocked what was going on, and guffawed dopily at the end of the queue.
"Just kidding," Cole grinned impishly. "I took her to the training ground caff for free with my members' card. I made her pay for the taxi though."
(Just a bit of fun, Chelsea fans! Again, this is fictional - as far as I'm aware, neither Didier Drogba nor Ashley Cole has had any sort of relationship with Vanessa Perroncel. Still, you never know...)
With moments to go before kick-off, Stamford Bridge was rocking. Harry J Allstars were playing over the tannoy, and the sizeable, facially deformed beasts in the home stand were shuffling their elephantine feet and clapping out of time. In the away end, the Arsenal fans were chanting about the delights of being a Gooner, and politely informing their hosts that the West London club lacked any real history.
Beneath the stands, the teams were preparing for their crunch match.
Carlo Ancelotti strolled into the home dressing room and clapped his hands. "Right-ah, listen up. We will go over the game plan once more-ah, and then we will be ready. Defenci, what do you do?"
He turned to the back-four, who were sat together on the near bench.
Ricardo Carvalho was smiling absently back at him, his hairline receding by the second and stray hairs floating delicately around his shoulders in a dark, fluffy cloud. In stark contrast, Branoslav Ivanovic was glaring at the floor, his eyes twitching maniacally and his lip curling as he struggled to remember his instructions. Ashley Cole was busy raiding his team-mates' lockers for spare change, and John Terry seemed preoccupied with his phone.
Ancelotti cleared his throat. "John?"
Terry looked up. "Oh, sorry boss. I was just texting Joe's w... my wife, to make sure she got to the stadium okay."
Ancelotti clapped his hands. "Pay attention! So, defenders -"
"Mister Ancelotti," a muffled voice interrupted.
The players turned to see Frank Lampard in the corner of the dressing room, struggling to speak as his podgy fingers frantically crammed a double cheeseburger into his mouth. Smears of ketchup, mayonnaise and grease adorned his cheeks and chin, and crumpled fast food wrappers were littered across his wide lap. Rolls of blubber were spilling out of his overly tight shirt, and his arm flab quivered wildly as he raised his other hand.
"When we have a late kick-off, what time's dinner again?"
Frustrated, Ancelotti glanced at the clock and held both hands out. "We haven't got time for this. Now listen -"
"Do my cornrows look okay?" Florent Malouda enquired, inspecting his reflection in the industrial amounts of hair wax oozing down Michael Ballack's forehead.
Ancelotti continued, raising his voice. "Please, will you all -"
"Mister Ancelotti, maybe Paolo play today?" Ferreira smiled hopefully, knocking his knees together and twiddling his thumbs.
"That's enough!" Ancelotti bellowed. "Listen to me!"
But no sooner had he caught their attention than the referee knocked on the door and stuck his head in. "The Arsenal players are waiting, you're late."
The Chelsea players headed for the door, stretching their upper bodies and psyching themselves up. Terry and Ivanovic heaved Lampard's wobbling, whale-like frame towards the tunnel, while Ashley Cole hastily poured his findings into his locker and scurried after them, a few remaining coins jingling in his shorts.
His players stampeding past him, Ancelotti stood on his toes and called out last-minute instructions. "Two of you stick to Fabregas at all times! And remember, Didier - if in doubt, fall and shout!"
Petr Cech strapped on his gloves and lumbered towards the door, his long arms lolling at his sides.
Ancelotti rushed after him and waved his arms. "Petr! Watch out for-"
Cech's head smashed into the doorframe. The goalkeeper keeled over, grasping his helmet and shouting Czech obscenities. "I be fine, I be fine," he spluttered, staggering dazedly into the tunnel.
The players lined up alongside the visitors, jumping up and down on the spot and flexing their necks. Malouda conversed with some of the French players, while Ashley Cole avoided making eye-contact with his former team-mates and picked distractedly at the wall.
"John," Drogba whispered, as Terry walked past to take his position at the front. He grabbed the captain by the arm and took him aside. "I just thought you should know, if you are anxious about the whole Vanessa thing... You are not alone. I had a fling with her too."
Terry was incredulous. "What?!"
"Yes," Drogba whispered. "I saw her for a while. Some of the others did too. So don't let it get to you today, worry about it another time. We need the three points."
"But... how did this come about?"
Drogba looked around to make sure none of the Arsenal players were listening. Samir Nasri, who had clearly been eavesdropping, nervously averted his gaze and suddenly took great interest in the sponsor's logo on his shirt.
The striker turned back to his captain. "We spent an evening in, just doing each other's ponytails and making luck bracelets, and it just sort of... happened. It lasted a few weeks and we got a bit serious." He sighed, a look of longing in his eyes. "We were meant to go diving in the Seychelles. But someone else moved in on her and it never happened."
Ashley Cole stuck his head out from behind Terry, an obnoxious smirk spreading across his face. "Yeah, sorry Drog," he sneered in a caustic tone. "That was me."
John Terry raised an eyebrow, amazed by the extent of her promiscuity within the Chelsea circle. "And where did you take her, Ashley?"
"We went to this restaurant on the edge of town..." Cole's smug expression faded, and his eyes glazed over with nostalgia. "We had a proper candle-lit dinner. She looked... gorgeous. We drank wine and laughed for hours, and afterwards I took her dancing. We came back through the city centre in a limo and looked at all the lights along the Thames."
The tunnel had fallen silent. Terry and Drogba exchanged sceptical glances, while the Arsenal players sniggered. Even Mikael Silvestre seemed to have clocked what was going on, and guffawed dopily at the end of the queue.
"Just kidding," Cole grinned impishly. "I took her to the training ground caff for free with my members' card. I made her pay for the taxi though."
(Just a bit of fun, Chelsea fans! Again, this is fictional - as far as I'm aware, neither Didier Drogba nor Ashley Cole has had any sort of relationship with Vanessa Perroncel. Still, you never know...)
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