He scores goals, he makes goals, he runs the midfield, and he captains.
A few years ago, Henri Lansbury was seen as the next big thing by Arsenal insiders. Writing for the Daily Telegraph, Arsenal legend Alan Smith (who I'd imagine has a good nose for talent...) described him as a player with "huge potential". Lansbury's year was the first in the academy to start at under-nine level, and he was seen as the brightest prospect of the lot. He has so far enjoyed an exceptional career in the England youth teams, and looks set to become a quality Premiership player.
Lansbury's natural position is in the centre, but he can play in a more advanced role and has frequently been deployed on the right wing. He has an athletic build, is an influential character on the pitch, can dictate passing moves, and has a keen eye for goal - essentially, the attributes of a young Steven Gerrard. At six feet, he's about three times the height of most of our midfielders, and is far more dominant physically and in the air.
This season he's been producing some excellent displays on loan at Watford, and is proving himself a real force in their midfield. Despite only turning 19 last month, he has already made fifteen league starts, setting up three and scoring two. After watching Lansbury tear the likes of Preston and Sheffield Wednesday to pieces over the last few months, Watford manager Malky Mackay has been singing his praises and is now seeking to extend his loan at Vicarage Road, which is set to expire at the end of this year.
What makes Lansbury's recent form all the more impressive is that he has bounced back from a long spell on the sidelines; he missed more than half of 2008 with glandular fever, but this doesn't seem to have stunted his development. Only a few months after his recovery, he went out on loan to Scunthorpe United, where he scored 5 goals in 17 games and became an integral part of their midfield as they achieved promotion to the Championship and reached the final of the Johnstone's Paint Trophy at Wembley.
His international record so far is hugely impressive. He captained the England Under-16s and Under-19s, reaching the final of the European Under-19 Championship this year having scored three goals in the competition. In November, only a month after his nineteenth birthday, he made his debut for the England Under-21s in their qualifier against Portugal. Aside from his captaincies, he has been a key figure throughout his time in the England youth teams: in fifteen Under-17 appearances, he scored five times; in twelve for the Under-19s, he scored seven.
Two seasons out on loan doesn't tend to be a good sign for a young English player's Arsenal career, and he's been extremely unlucky to have missed out on so much playing time in the under-18s. But Lansbury is finally beginning to get the recognition he deserves, and if his loan is extended Watford will have a real gem of a player this season.
Sunday, 27 December 2009
Cesc Breaks Villa Hearts, Then Breaks Himself: Arsenal 3 Aston Villa 0
An excellent team performance, an uncharacteristically flattering scoreline, and a leap up to second place. A great ending to a good weekend for Arsenal, although Fabregas' late knock might be a hefty price to pay.
With the captain starting on the bench, Denilson slotted straight into Cesc's role, always in the middle of everything and starting some great passing moves. He showed good commitment at one stage in the first half when he somehow managed to maintain possession on the ground, alone and surrounded by Villa players. He won a free-kick in a dangerous position on the edge of the area, with Richard Dunne having run out of ideas and thrown himself at the Brazilian; although having been handed the responsibility of taking the free-kick, Denilson thought it best to simply smack the ball straight into the wall.
When Cesc came on in the second half, it seemed a tad unfair on Denilson, but he was the only player who could feasibly be sacrificed. In any case, Cesc's impact was instant. His free-kick was absolutely perfect, squeezing over the wall and tucking itself into the near post nicely, and his celebration showed just how much he loves this club. He took his second goal superbly - he literally couldn't have placed it further from Friedel without hitting the post.
Credit for the second must also go to Armand Traore, who played a pinpoint 50-yard ball to Walcott, and to Walcott himself, who rolled a perfectly-weighted through ball into Cesc's path. Traore had a great game. He must be one of the most physically fit players at the club; he had no problem dealing with the pace of Ashley Young, and his upper body strength kept the Villa winger at bay.
Abou Diaby maintained his excellent form today - he finally looks to be making the grade. His size posed a real problem to the Villa midfield, and he was far more involved in the air than usual. He pulled off a couple moments of great skill, at one stage laying on an unmissable chance for Eduardo, which the forward promptly missed. He had gone a bit quiet towards the end of the second half, until he waltzed past the tired Villa defence and placed a great finish low into Friedel's left corner from the edge of the area.
Heskey made a nuisance of himself in the air, with most of Villa's attacks coming from his headers, but Sagna and Song coped with him well. Sagna had about as much chance of pulling off a successful cross as he has of winning the 2010 Hairstyle of the Year award, but he dealt with Villa's wide play very well and kept Milner quiet.
Gallas was slightly dodgy with some poor positioning, and his pace was no match for that of Gabriel Agbonlahor, but Thomas Vermaelen was back on form this afternoon. He showed one of the most tenacious pieces of defending by an Arsenal player since the days of Adams and Keown, shielding the ball with his entire body and shaking off a rather inappropriate attempt by Agbonlahor to mount him.
Another player to really return to form today was Manuel Almunia. He was much more assured today, dealing with almost every cross and making one of the saves of the season in the later stages when Agbonlahor looked odds-on to set up a nervy ending.
More on Cesc's injury later, but for now we can be happy after a thoroughly entertaining match at the Emirates, and an unusually clinical show in front of goal.
With the captain starting on the bench, Denilson slotted straight into Cesc's role, always in the middle of everything and starting some great passing moves. He showed good commitment at one stage in the first half when he somehow managed to maintain possession on the ground, alone and surrounded by Villa players. He won a free-kick in a dangerous position on the edge of the area, with Richard Dunne having run out of ideas and thrown himself at the Brazilian; although having been handed the responsibility of taking the free-kick, Denilson thought it best to simply smack the ball straight into the wall.
When Cesc came on in the second half, it seemed a tad unfair on Denilson, but he was the only player who could feasibly be sacrificed. In any case, Cesc's impact was instant. His free-kick was absolutely perfect, squeezing over the wall and tucking itself into the near post nicely, and his celebration showed just how much he loves this club. He took his second goal superbly - he literally couldn't have placed it further from Friedel without hitting the post.
Credit for the second must also go to Armand Traore, who played a pinpoint 50-yard ball to Walcott, and to Walcott himself, who rolled a perfectly-weighted through ball into Cesc's path. Traore had a great game. He must be one of the most physically fit players at the club; he had no problem dealing with the pace of Ashley Young, and his upper body strength kept the Villa winger at bay.
Abou Diaby maintained his excellent form today - he finally looks to be making the grade. His size posed a real problem to the Villa midfield, and he was far more involved in the air than usual. He pulled off a couple moments of great skill, at one stage laying on an unmissable chance for Eduardo, which the forward promptly missed. He had gone a bit quiet towards the end of the second half, until he waltzed past the tired Villa defence and placed a great finish low into Friedel's left corner from the edge of the area.
Heskey made a nuisance of himself in the air, with most of Villa's attacks coming from his headers, but Sagna and Song coped with him well. Sagna had about as much chance of pulling off a successful cross as he has of winning the 2010 Hairstyle of the Year award, but he dealt with Villa's wide play very well and kept Milner quiet.
Gallas was slightly dodgy with some poor positioning, and his pace was no match for that of Gabriel Agbonlahor, but Thomas Vermaelen was back on form this afternoon. He showed one of the most tenacious pieces of defending by an Arsenal player since the days of Adams and Keown, shielding the ball with his entire body and shaking off a rather inappropriate attempt by Agbonlahor to mount him.
Another player to really return to form today was Manuel Almunia. He was much more assured today, dealing with almost every cross and making one of the saves of the season in the later stages when Agbonlahor looked odds-on to set up a nervy ending.
More on Cesc's injury later, but for now we can be happy after a thoroughly entertaining match at the Emirates, and an unusually clinical show in front of goal.
Saturday, 26 December 2009
Cesc-Pests Barcelona Finally Get a Warning
The Catalans continued to lay siege to Fortress Emirates, throwing all they could at Arsenal.
A simpering mid-interview plea from Xavi for Cesc to come and play alongside him; a reassurance to the Barcelona supporters from Joan Laporta that a bid was being prepared; a pointless Belarussian signing whose footballing services wouldn't be required, but whose close acquiantance with the playmaker could be exploited. They had every media tool available to them, and they refused to stop until they got what they wanted.
They were pressing closer now, the greasy-feathered vultures circling ever tighter. Tomas Rosicky was sobbing in a corner, Robin van Persie's new pacemaker was struggling to keep time, and Johan Djourou was trying his best to explain to Philippe Senderos what was going on.
Just when it looked like the Catalans were on the brink of smashing their way through the North Entrance, they were blinded by a dazzling light. They backed away from the doors, either shielding their eyes or diving to the ground in the vain hope of encouraging some form of punishment.
It was Peter Hill-Wood, who had emerged from the safety of the directors' box to intervene.
"I am really p****d off with Barcelona and all that nonsense," he declared.
Yes, that's right, we were finally standing up to Barcelona. The Daily Star has a record of the whole thing, minus the bits I made up.
"Cesc is on a very good, long-term contract and I don't think he has any intention of not honouring it."
Laporta was stunned. What was this word, 'honouring'?
"It is not the first time they have done this and it is a most disrespectful and tiresome thing to do. You would think there would be some action you could take against them, but I suppose you cannot stop the man shooting his mouth off. Our position, and I think Cesc's position, is very steadfast. He has been with us for seven years and there is no reason he should want to up sticks."
Steadfast? But surely Barcelona could bully him into changing his mind?
"From everything we hear he is very settled. He has a long-term contract and I see absolutely no reason why it shouldn't continue."
No reason? Laporta didn't understand. It wasn't as if Barcelona had completely overlooked him as a youngster, as if they lacked the foresight to notice his prodigious talent and do what was necessary to make him choose to stay. More importantly, how could Fabregas be settled in London - surely a Catalan could only be happy in the nationalist hotbed of FC Barcelona?
Perplexed, Laporta and his minions retreated. They had lost this battle; however, they hadn't lost the war. They'd be back soon with another desperate ploy for Cesc.
A simpering mid-interview plea from Xavi for Cesc to come and play alongside him; a reassurance to the Barcelona supporters from Joan Laporta that a bid was being prepared; a pointless Belarussian signing whose footballing services wouldn't be required, but whose close acquiantance with the playmaker could be exploited. They had every media tool available to them, and they refused to stop until they got what they wanted.
They were pressing closer now, the greasy-feathered vultures circling ever tighter. Tomas Rosicky was sobbing in a corner, Robin van Persie's new pacemaker was struggling to keep time, and Johan Djourou was trying his best to explain to Philippe Senderos what was going on.
Just when it looked like the Catalans were on the brink of smashing their way through the North Entrance, they were blinded by a dazzling light. They backed away from the doors, either shielding their eyes or diving to the ground in the vain hope of encouraging some form of punishment.
It was Peter Hill-Wood, who had emerged from the safety of the directors' box to intervene.
"I am really p****d off with Barcelona and all that nonsense," he declared.
Yes, that's right, we were finally standing up to Barcelona. The Daily Star has a record of the whole thing, minus the bits I made up.
"Cesc is on a very good, long-term contract and I don't think he has any intention of not honouring it."
Laporta was stunned. What was this word, 'honouring'?
"It is not the first time they have done this and it is a most disrespectful and tiresome thing to do. You would think there would be some action you could take against them, but I suppose you cannot stop the man shooting his mouth off. Our position, and I think Cesc's position, is very steadfast. He has been with us for seven years and there is no reason he should want to up sticks."
Steadfast? But surely Barcelona could bully him into changing his mind?
"From everything we hear he is very settled. He has a long-term contract and I see absolutely no reason why it shouldn't continue."
No reason? Laporta didn't understand. It wasn't as if Barcelona had completely overlooked him as a youngster, as if they lacked the foresight to notice his prodigious talent and do what was necessary to make him choose to stay. More importantly, how could Fabregas be settled in London - surely a Catalan could only be happy in the nationalist hotbed of FC Barcelona?
Perplexed, Laporta and his minions retreated. They had lost this battle; however, they hadn't lost the war. They'd be back soon with another desperate ploy for Cesc.
Hijinks on the Aston Villa Team Bus, and a Boxing Day 'Moment'
Firstly, I hope everyone had a great day yesterday; I would like to think that I wasn't the only one who completely overdid it on the roast parsnips and pigs in blankets, and had to resort to changing into tracky bottoms halfway through the day.
Secondly, thanks to all those who commented on the Christmas Eve post, I was blown away by the response.
This weekend we'll be playing one of the toughest and most entertaining matches of the season. Exactly a year ago, we played at their place in an early six pointer for fourth place, and we blew a two goal lead in injury time. While it's a shame it won't be on Boxing Day this time around, I realise now that it probably isn't a match best viewed in the company of several relatives of varying ages.
My memories of the agonizing moment when Zat Knight scored that equaliser were roughly as follows.
When the ball hit the net, everything around me went into a blurred slow-motion. The voices of my family dropped about four octaves and became vague and distant, and like the sounds from the television, were increasingly drowned out by the thump of my quickening heartbeat. On the screen in front of me, claret and blue blotches were whirling around in celebration.
"Dave? Dave, what are you doing..."
I was slowly, and uncertainly, rising to my feet. Everything was shaking quite severely now, and sounds were becoming more and more muffled. Gradually surpassing the sound of my worryingly rapid heartbeat was a faint rumble - something was building up.
I looked down. My hands were trembling. Focusing as best I could, I could make out some concerned expressions around the room. Everyone was silent now, except for my Scouse uncle (don't worry, he married into the family), who was clenching his fists in triumph and guffawing obnoxiously at my misfortune.
I staggered forwards, keeling over from the sharp pain in my stomach. My heartbeat was becoming laboured now, as if trying desperately to force blood through a narrow gap in the copious deposits of turkey, sausage and bacon fat clogging my arteries. My body weak, I lamely threw a handful of Quality Street at my Liverpudlian tormenter and lurched towards the door. I made my way through the hall, propelling various obstacles across the carpet: Christmas presents, sleeping dogs, small children.
I soon found myself standing over my bed. My unfocused eyes rolled lethargically from side to side, seeking some defenseless inanimate object upon which I could unleash my fury. That rumbling was becoming a violent, cacophanous din, and I was shaking with rage. Spotting my pint glass, I seized it, aimed for the wall, and released.
I awoke a short while later. My limbs numb, I struggled into a sitting position on the bed and looked around. The room was fine, the pint glass intact; obviously I'd just been dreaming.
I looked at the clock on my bedside table - 8.15pm. Damn, that match did happen. Oh well, I thought, we were extremely lucky to go two goals ahead anyway. And if someone had told me at the start of the match that we'd leave Villa Park with a point, I'd probably -
Hang on, were those teardrops on my pillowcase?
Anyway, back in the real world, we face a difficult challenge against a full-strength Villa. With home advantage and Fabregas possibly back in the team, it may well be an opportunity to make a real statement of intent and give Chelsea something to worry about, but O'Neill's lot are in excellent form and will be making their way down to London tomorrow in high spirits.
I can see them now on their team bus, all excited and talking in English (it's cute how other clubs still do that), getting along ever so well. James Milner and Gabby Agbonlahor would be sat at the front just behind O'Neill, holding hands and singing bus songs; Ashley Young would probably be that compulsory hyper kid, bouncing up and down and kicking the back of the seat in front, upon which an enraged John Carew would be counting to ten and telling himself to ignore it. Brad Friedel would be psyching himself up, whooping and chanting "USA!", and sporadically grabbing his terrified team-mates and yelling things like "let's go kick some French ass!"
Richard Dunne and Curtis Davies would be playing catch with Stewart Downing's lunchbox, which his mum would have specially prepared for him. Downing would be pleading with them to give it back, tears streaming down his cheeks, until Emile Heskey selflessly intervened and retrieved it. Heskey would then ruffle the winger's hair and give him his own Penguin bar to cheer him up, and Downing would sniffle, wipe the snot away with the back of his hand, and gratefully tuck in.
As for today's matches, let's hope Chelsea and Spurs drop a couple of points - they've both got tricky away games and I reckon at least one of them will be leaving with less than three points.
Have a good Boxing Day Gooners, 'til tomorrow!
Secondly, thanks to all those who commented on the Christmas Eve post, I was blown away by the response.
This weekend we'll be playing one of the toughest and most entertaining matches of the season. Exactly a year ago, we played at their place in an early six pointer for fourth place, and we blew a two goal lead in injury time. While it's a shame it won't be on Boxing Day this time around, I realise now that it probably isn't a match best viewed in the company of several relatives of varying ages.
My memories of the agonizing moment when Zat Knight scored that equaliser were roughly as follows.
When the ball hit the net, everything around me went into a blurred slow-motion. The voices of my family dropped about four octaves and became vague and distant, and like the sounds from the television, were increasingly drowned out by the thump of my quickening heartbeat. On the screen in front of me, claret and blue blotches were whirling around in celebration.
"Dave? Dave, what are you doing..."
I was slowly, and uncertainly, rising to my feet. Everything was shaking quite severely now, and sounds were becoming more and more muffled. Gradually surpassing the sound of my worryingly rapid heartbeat was a faint rumble - something was building up.
I looked down. My hands were trembling. Focusing as best I could, I could make out some concerned expressions around the room. Everyone was silent now, except for my Scouse uncle (don't worry, he married into the family), who was clenching his fists in triumph and guffawing obnoxiously at my misfortune.
I staggered forwards, keeling over from the sharp pain in my stomach. My heartbeat was becoming laboured now, as if trying desperately to force blood through a narrow gap in the copious deposits of turkey, sausage and bacon fat clogging my arteries. My body weak, I lamely threw a handful of Quality Street at my Liverpudlian tormenter and lurched towards the door. I made my way through the hall, propelling various obstacles across the carpet: Christmas presents, sleeping dogs, small children.
I soon found myself standing over my bed. My unfocused eyes rolled lethargically from side to side, seeking some defenseless inanimate object upon which I could unleash my fury. That rumbling was becoming a violent, cacophanous din, and I was shaking with rage. Spotting my pint glass, I seized it, aimed for the wall, and released.
I awoke a short while later. My limbs numb, I struggled into a sitting position on the bed and looked around. The room was fine, the pint glass intact; obviously I'd just been dreaming.
I looked at the clock on my bedside table - 8.15pm. Damn, that match did happen. Oh well, I thought, we were extremely lucky to go two goals ahead anyway. And if someone had told me at the start of the match that we'd leave Villa Park with a point, I'd probably -
Hang on, were those teardrops on my pillowcase?
Anyway, back in the real world, we face a difficult challenge against a full-strength Villa. With home advantage and Fabregas possibly back in the team, it may well be an opportunity to make a real statement of intent and give Chelsea something to worry about, but O'Neill's lot are in excellent form and will be making their way down to London tomorrow in high spirits.
I can see them now on their team bus, all excited and talking in English (it's cute how other clubs still do that), getting along ever so well. James Milner and Gabby Agbonlahor would be sat at the front just behind O'Neill, holding hands and singing bus songs; Ashley Young would probably be that compulsory hyper kid, bouncing up and down and kicking the back of the seat in front, upon which an enraged John Carew would be counting to ten and telling himself to ignore it. Brad Friedel would be psyching himself up, whooping and chanting "USA!", and sporadically grabbing his terrified team-mates and yelling things like "let's go kick some French ass!"
Richard Dunne and Curtis Davies would be playing catch with Stewart Downing's lunchbox, which his mum would have specially prepared for him. Downing would be pleading with them to give it back, tears streaming down his cheeks, until Emile Heskey selflessly intervened and retrieved it. Heskey would then ruffle the winger's hair and give him his own Penguin bar to cheer him up, and Downing would sniffle, wipe the snot away with the back of his hand, and gratefully tuck in.
As for today's matches, let's hope Chelsea and Spurs drop a couple of points - they've both got tricky away games and I reckon at least one of them will be leaving with less than three points.
Have a good Boxing Day Gooners, 'til tomorrow!
Thursday, 24 December 2009
Arsene Wenger and Edin Dzeko in 'An Arsenal Christmas Carol'
It was Christmas morning.
The sun beamed low across the thick coat of powdery, white snow enveloping the street. The air was crisp and still, and the snow remained untouched, glistening under the pure blue expanse of sky above. It was a quiet scene of seasonal tranquility.
Through the snow came the soft crunch of a young boy's footsteps. Turning the corner and passing a towering stone mansion, he nestled his head in his scarf and braced against the cold as he dragged his sled behind him, his breath forming hot, swirling clouds in the chill air.
All of a sudden, a pair of shutters flew open above him, sending a flurry of snow cascading onto the street. Startled, he looked up, only to get a faceful of powder.
Hearing high-pitched giggling above, he wiped the snow from his face to see what the commotion was all about. In the window above stood Arsene Wenger in his nightcap, uncharacteristically jolly and giving off a strange new aura of youthful exuberance.
"Say, what day is this?" the Frenchman called down to him.
The young boy sniggered, his brow twisted in bewilderment. "Why, Christmas day, Mister Wenger!"
Wenger clapped his hands, threw his head back, and emitted a hearty laugh. "Christmas day... Christmas day!" He span round in a frenzy, pressing his hand to his head and trying to gather himself together. "I haven't missed it!" he whispered. "The spirits did their work all in one evening! Well, of course they did," he mumbled, his thoughts racing, "Thank goodness!"
The boy looked utterly puzzled. Becoming slightly concerned by the old man's inane grinning and fidgeting, he interrupted. "Sir...?"
"Yes, dear boy. Do you know that butcher's round the corner, Wolfsburg's?"
"Yes, Mister Wenger."
"Splendid, dear boy, splendid!" Wenger bellowed, becoming increasingly animated. "And have you seen that enormous Bosnian copper turkey in the window?"
"Of course sir, all of London's been staring at it!"
Wenger's eyes widened, and he became more excited. "And is it still there? That dodgy fellow from Milan hasn't bought it?"
"Yes, I think it's still there, why?"
"Splendid!" Wenger chuckled, digging through the pockets of his robe. "Here, young fellow, take this money and fetch that turkey!"
He tossed a handful of coins at the boy who, overwhelmed, spilled them across the snow. He gathered them up and stood, perplexed. "Mister Wenger... this is twice what the turkey will cost!"
"Keep the rest for your trouble. Hurry now!"
"Y-Yes, sir!" the boy grinned, scrabbling to put the money in his pocket and grabbing his sled.
"Dear boy?"
The boy turned. "Yes sir?"
"Merry Christmas," Wenger beamed, a sickly-sweet smile spreading across his face.
"Merry Christmas, Mister Wenger!" the boy shouted, scurrying down the street as quickly as he could.
And so that afternoon, the good people of Highbury feasted together thanks to the generosity of a reformed Arsene Wenger. He had been visited in the night by the Ghosts of Christmas Past (David Dein), Present (Ivan Gazidis) and Future (Stan Kroenke), and would never return to his miserly old ways.
Understandably, the locals were perplexed by his change in behaviour, but no one questioned it; they simply ate and drank to their hearts' content. Even Senderos was allowed to join in. He got terribly excited, making far too much noise with his party blower and laughing uproariously at all of the Christmas cracker jokes, but he tired himself out quite quickly and was the first to be put to bed. Arshavin wasn't allowed too much food, of course, because everyone knew how he would get if he started putting on holiday weight. And at one stage Almunia spilled the roast potatoes, but Song was, as always, on hand to tidy up the mess.
They all returned to their respective homes content that night, with their bellies filled and their hearts warmed. They had endured a difficult year, but they were feeling confident about the next one. All because Arsene had splashed out on the prize Bosnian turkey.
And Tiny Tomas didn't die after all.
Merry Christmas Gooners!
The sun beamed low across the thick coat of powdery, white snow enveloping the street. The air was crisp and still, and the snow remained untouched, glistening under the pure blue expanse of sky above. It was a quiet scene of seasonal tranquility.
Through the snow came the soft crunch of a young boy's footsteps. Turning the corner and passing a towering stone mansion, he nestled his head in his scarf and braced against the cold as he dragged his sled behind him, his breath forming hot, swirling clouds in the chill air.
All of a sudden, a pair of shutters flew open above him, sending a flurry of snow cascading onto the street. Startled, he looked up, only to get a faceful of powder.
Hearing high-pitched giggling above, he wiped the snow from his face to see what the commotion was all about. In the window above stood Arsene Wenger in his nightcap, uncharacteristically jolly and giving off a strange new aura of youthful exuberance.
"Say, what day is this?" the Frenchman called down to him.
The young boy sniggered, his brow twisted in bewilderment. "Why, Christmas day, Mister Wenger!"
Wenger clapped his hands, threw his head back, and emitted a hearty laugh. "Christmas day... Christmas day!" He span round in a frenzy, pressing his hand to his head and trying to gather himself together. "I haven't missed it!" he whispered. "The spirits did their work all in one evening! Well, of course they did," he mumbled, his thoughts racing, "Thank goodness!"
The boy looked utterly puzzled. Becoming slightly concerned by the old man's inane grinning and fidgeting, he interrupted. "Sir...?"
"Yes, dear boy. Do you know that butcher's round the corner, Wolfsburg's?"
"Yes, Mister Wenger."
"Splendid, dear boy, splendid!" Wenger bellowed, becoming increasingly animated. "And have you seen that enormous Bosnian copper turkey in the window?"
"Of course sir, all of London's been staring at it!"
Wenger's eyes widened, and he became more excited. "And is it still there? That dodgy fellow from Milan hasn't bought it?"
"Yes, I think it's still there, why?"
"Splendid!" Wenger chuckled, digging through the pockets of his robe. "Here, young fellow, take this money and fetch that turkey!"
He tossed a handful of coins at the boy who, overwhelmed, spilled them across the snow. He gathered them up and stood, perplexed. "Mister Wenger... this is twice what the turkey will cost!"
"Keep the rest for your trouble. Hurry now!"
"Y-Yes, sir!" the boy grinned, scrabbling to put the money in his pocket and grabbing his sled.
"Dear boy?"
The boy turned. "Yes sir?"
"Merry Christmas," Wenger beamed, a sickly-sweet smile spreading across his face.
"Merry Christmas, Mister Wenger!" the boy shouted, scurrying down the street as quickly as he could.
And so that afternoon, the good people of Highbury feasted together thanks to the generosity of a reformed Arsene Wenger. He had been visited in the night by the Ghosts of Christmas Past (David Dein), Present (Ivan Gazidis) and Future (Stan Kroenke), and would never return to his miserly old ways.
Understandably, the locals were perplexed by his change in behaviour, but no one questioned it; they simply ate and drank to their hearts' content. Even Senderos was allowed to join in. He got terribly excited, making far too much noise with his party blower and laughing uproariously at all of the Christmas cracker jokes, but he tired himself out quite quickly and was the first to be put to bed. Arshavin wasn't allowed too much food, of course, because everyone knew how he would get if he started putting on holiday weight. And at one stage Almunia spilled the roast potatoes, but Song was, as always, on hand to tidy up the mess.
They all returned to their respective homes content that night, with their bellies filled and their hearts warmed. They had endured a difficult year, but they were feeling confident about the next one. All because Arsene had splashed out on the prize Bosnian turkey.
And Tiny Tomas didn't die after all.
Merry Christmas Gooners!
Wednesday, 23 December 2009
Nasty Nick and Nasri, and Kroenke's Wild West Scene that Never Happened
It's emerged this evening that the FA are charging both Arsenal and Hull for the melee on Saturday - a fair reaction I suppose, and I'd imagine that Hull will have more to worry about. Although you can never really be sure when the FA comes wading in on its high horse, shouting "children are watching, think of the children" and indiscriminately throwing bans and fines in all directions. I wouldn't be surprised if they followed this up by placing William Gallas, who pointedly refrained from joining in the fun, first in the firing line.
Regarding Nasri's stamp, I'm a bit surprised by the reaction from other Arsenal fans. While it certainly wasn't the worst thing a footballer has ever done, as some would have us believe, it was unnecessary and dirtier than I'd expected from one of our players, and others shouldn't be condoning it. Having said that, the Hull players weren't exactly cherubs. Nick Barmby threw a Napoleonic fit, Richard Garcia was the drama queen at the centre of it all, and Stephen Hunt had that "time to inflict some brain damage" look in his eyes.
Anyway, the biggest concern today is Stan Kroenke being only 17 shares away from the takeover threshold.
He's done this all very stealthily, and being a member of the board already he won't be ruffling too many feathers. It won't be the takeover I imagined a couple of years ago when this all began. He was meant to strut into the Arsenal saloon, his head down and his ten-gallon hat covering his features. Diaby would be passed out on the bar, Old Man Lehmann and Gallas would be sat in the corner playing cards, and Fabregas would be womanising at a table of fawning southern belles. When Kroenke's presence was felt, two of the women (Walcott and Denilson) would run shrieking out the door, and the place would fall deathly quiet. Wenger and Dein would be sat at the middle table, right in Kroenke's eyeline; the two parties would stare at one another, and before Dein could stand up and utter his line ("Well, well, looky here" or something of that nature) Senderos would break the silence by screaming "It's Silent Stan!" This would trigger a solid five minutes of gunfire and pandemonium, and Senderos would be the first to die.
It seems like he'll be hoping for a takeover by the start of next season; maybe he's hoping to get control of the Arsenal Gunners before the January Draft, although I can't imagine that having any impact on our transfer activity. As long as Usmanov doesn't get his fat, greasy hands on the club and destroy everything, I suppose I can tolerate Kroenke.
---
Regarding Nasri's stamp, I'm a bit surprised by the reaction from other Arsenal fans. While it certainly wasn't the worst thing a footballer has ever done, as some would have us believe, it was unnecessary and dirtier than I'd expected from one of our players, and others shouldn't be condoning it. Having said that, the Hull players weren't exactly cherubs. Nick Barmby threw a Napoleonic fit, Richard Garcia was the drama queen at the centre of it all, and Stephen Hunt had that "time to inflict some brain damage" look in his eyes.
Anyway, the biggest concern today is Stan Kroenke being only 17 shares away from the takeover threshold.
He's done this all very stealthily, and being a member of the board already he won't be ruffling too many feathers. It won't be the takeover I imagined a couple of years ago when this all began. He was meant to strut into the Arsenal saloon, his head down and his ten-gallon hat covering his features. Diaby would be passed out on the bar, Old Man Lehmann and Gallas would be sat in the corner playing cards, and Fabregas would be womanising at a table of fawning southern belles. When Kroenke's presence was felt, two of the women (Walcott and Denilson) would run shrieking out the door, and the place would fall deathly quiet. Wenger and Dein would be sat at the middle table, right in Kroenke's eyeline; the two parties would stare at one another, and before Dein could stand up and utter his line ("Well, well, looky here" or something of that nature) Senderos would break the silence by screaming "It's Silent Stan!" This would trigger a solid five minutes of gunfire and pandemonium, and Senderos would be the first to die.
It seems like he'll be hoping for a takeover by the start of next season; maybe he's hoping to get control of the Arsenal Gunners before the January Draft, although I can't imagine that having any impact on our transfer activity. As long as Usmanov doesn't get his fat, greasy hands on the club and destroy everything, I suppose I can tolerate Kroenke.
---
Thursday, 17 December 2009
Don't Panic
Make no mistake, Turf Moor is a tricky place to go this season. Burnley have won most of their home league games (including their matches against Man Utd, Everton and Sunderland) and have only lost there against Wigan. To win a championship, a team needs to win matches like this - however, this was the kind of match that we would have lost a year ago, especially with Cesc out for the second half, so, disappointing as it is to leave with one point, we should keep in mind that it really could have been worse.
Alex Song was yet again far better than most of the team, second only to the captain. He (not Diaby) was the physical presence we needed against a strong Burnley team, and his authority grew after Cesc's withdrawal. Vermaelen and Gallas, on the other hand, were looking a bit dodgy again, and Sagna struggled against the in-form Chris Eagles; fortunately for us, Owen Coyle doesn't seem to have been following Silvestre's career path of late and ensured that his team's attacks tried their utmost best to avoid our sturdy 4th choice left-back. Arshavin didn't contribute as much as he should have, and Walcott was really disappointing again.
Almunia's form has nose-dived lately, which is seriously worrying. He was on great form last year but has been wildly inconsistent since the summer, and has been poor in the last few matches. He made an horrific error last night and was extremely lucky that the resulting goal didn't stand, and his panicked flapping whenever a cross has reached his box has generally filled me with terror. This might be the time to reward Fabianski for his recent performances with a couple starts over Christmas.
The good news is that Cesc won't be out for too long (at least according to Wenger) - on the evidence of last night, we seriously need him in away matches. The last thing we want after finally getting recognition as title contenders is for another of our key players to be out for ages. But for the meantime, I suppose there's always column inches to fill and flames to fan, so step forward Joan Laporta, who has been reassuring the Barcelona fans that a bid will be prepared for Fabregas in a few months' time.
I'm getting sick and tired of our players being used as pawns in the Barcelona club election campaigns. We should be looking into whether we have grounds to lodge a formal complaint with FIFA, because this cannot be legal. We've been bullied by Barca and Real in the past, but this Fabregas situation is becoming harrassment.
---
Alex Song was yet again far better than most of the team, second only to the captain. He (not Diaby) was the physical presence we needed against a strong Burnley team, and his authority grew after Cesc's withdrawal. Vermaelen and Gallas, on the other hand, were looking a bit dodgy again, and Sagna struggled against the in-form Chris Eagles; fortunately for us, Owen Coyle doesn't seem to have been following Silvestre's career path of late and ensured that his team's attacks tried their utmost best to avoid our sturdy 4th choice left-back. Arshavin didn't contribute as much as he should have, and Walcott was really disappointing again.
Almunia's form has nose-dived lately, which is seriously worrying. He was on great form last year but has been wildly inconsistent since the summer, and has been poor in the last few matches. He made an horrific error last night and was extremely lucky that the resulting goal didn't stand, and his panicked flapping whenever a cross has reached his box has generally filled me with terror. This might be the time to reward Fabianski for his recent performances with a couple starts over Christmas.
The good news is that Cesc won't be out for too long (at least according to Wenger) - on the evidence of last night, we seriously need him in away matches. The last thing we want after finally getting recognition as title contenders is for another of our key players to be out for ages. But for the meantime, I suppose there's always column inches to fill and flames to fan, so step forward Joan Laporta, who has been reassuring the Barcelona fans that a bid will be prepared for Fabregas in a few months' time.
I'm getting sick and tired of our players being used as pawns in the Barcelona club election campaigns. We should be looking into whether we have grounds to lodge a formal complaint with FIFA, because this cannot be legal. We've been bullied by Barca and Real in the past, but this Fabregas situation is becoming harrassment.
---
Monday, 14 December 2009
Four to the Floor
What a weekend: we're genuinely back in the title race, Chelsea's defence is crumbling, United are looking weak, Liverpool are in crisis... and the scum made fools of themselves at home to Wolves.
Wenger finally unleashed the tirade those players have needed for so long. It must have been like seeing a 6th form Chemistry teacher finally lose it; after years of trying to control misbehaving, underachieving kids and dealing with one distraction after another, the pressure finally got to him. Having to tell Senderos every five minutes to stop picking his nose or chewing gum in lessons; constantly needing to clean up the mess made by Manuel Almunia; trying to break up knife fights possibly initiated by Mark Randall; with all that and Cesc's phone constantly going off with texts from his mates in the Spanish class down the hall, no one could have blamed him for laying into them for fifteen minutes.
He had every reason to criticise at half-time - unlike the Chelsea or United matches, he had literally no one to turn on except for the players, who were being well and truly outclassed. We were lucky it was only 1-0, particularly after Gallas got away with a pretty clear penalty shout (although Liverpool should have been called offside before the play got that far) and Torres had placed a sitter right into Almunia's arms. Immediately after half-time, the boys looked sharper and played as if for their careers.
Arshavin really stepped up a gear. He closed down the Liverpool centre backs, covered all the ground that an out-of-sorts Theo Walcott failed to cover, and got himself involved in every play. His finish was simply sublime, and showed how he turn a game on its head with a moment of magic having been reasonably quiet beforehand. Fabregas kept himself so busy during the second half that, for once, he actually looked a bit tired towards the end. Armand Traore, after several dodgy performances in recent weeks, played very well, using his strength and pace to restrict Liverpool's right side to crosses from deep.
Alex Song was impeccable. Even in the first half when our defending was generally clumsy and his more experienced counterparts were making mistakes, he remained composed and often bailed the others out. At one point, Gallas got himself in a bind and found himself scrabbling wildly to clear the ball; unfazed, Song rolled his eyes, jogged back, calmly took the ball off him and walked it to safety. He has become a remarkably consistent player and has proved himself among a very small number of Arsenal players who can be expected to put in their very best week in, week out.
The midfield played well as a unit, with Fabregas and Denilson showing an almost telepathic understanding with Nasri in the later stages with some clever passing near the corner flag. Nasri is in great shape after the long lay-off, and is looking much faster - if he stays fit, he could be a vital player for us.
There are a few problems to address if we're to really go for it this season. Almunia looked a bit dodgy, and every single cross that came in worried me. The Liverpool goal wasn't really the fault of anyone in particular, but he might have handled it better rather than presenting them with a rebound. Walcott was fairly unhelpful, constantly losing possession and not looking confident at all, although he did cause problems for Glen Johnson and was in the right position to panic him and Carragher into giving us a hand. Vermaelen's marking worried me - he gave his opponents far too much room, and could easily have given them a free header before we equalised. But all of these problems seemed to have been more evident in the first half, and Wenger's words may well have gone some way towards dealing with them.
Anyway, we have plenty to be positive about this week. Burnely away will be tricky, but a good result at Turf Moor would be a strong signal to the rest of the Top Four, whoever the new number four may be...
---
Wenger finally unleashed the tirade those players have needed for so long. It must have been like seeing a 6th form Chemistry teacher finally lose it; after years of trying to control misbehaving, underachieving kids and dealing with one distraction after another, the pressure finally got to him. Having to tell Senderos every five minutes to stop picking his nose or chewing gum in lessons; constantly needing to clean up the mess made by Manuel Almunia; trying to break up knife fights possibly initiated by Mark Randall; with all that and Cesc's phone constantly going off with texts from his mates in the Spanish class down the hall, no one could have blamed him for laying into them for fifteen minutes.
He had every reason to criticise at half-time - unlike the Chelsea or United matches, he had literally no one to turn on except for the players, who were being well and truly outclassed. We were lucky it was only 1-0, particularly after Gallas got away with a pretty clear penalty shout (although Liverpool should have been called offside before the play got that far) and Torres had placed a sitter right into Almunia's arms. Immediately after half-time, the boys looked sharper and played as if for their careers.
Arshavin really stepped up a gear. He closed down the Liverpool centre backs, covered all the ground that an out-of-sorts Theo Walcott failed to cover, and got himself involved in every play. His finish was simply sublime, and showed how he turn a game on its head with a moment of magic having been reasonably quiet beforehand. Fabregas kept himself so busy during the second half that, for once, he actually looked a bit tired towards the end. Armand Traore, after several dodgy performances in recent weeks, played very well, using his strength and pace to restrict Liverpool's right side to crosses from deep.
Alex Song was impeccable. Even in the first half when our defending was generally clumsy and his more experienced counterparts were making mistakes, he remained composed and often bailed the others out. At one point, Gallas got himself in a bind and found himself scrabbling wildly to clear the ball; unfazed, Song rolled his eyes, jogged back, calmly took the ball off him and walked it to safety. He has become a remarkably consistent player and has proved himself among a very small number of Arsenal players who can be expected to put in their very best week in, week out.
The midfield played well as a unit, with Fabregas and Denilson showing an almost telepathic understanding with Nasri in the later stages with some clever passing near the corner flag. Nasri is in great shape after the long lay-off, and is looking much faster - if he stays fit, he could be a vital player for us.
There are a few problems to address if we're to really go for it this season. Almunia looked a bit dodgy, and every single cross that came in worried me. The Liverpool goal wasn't really the fault of anyone in particular, but he might have handled it better rather than presenting them with a rebound. Walcott was fairly unhelpful, constantly losing possession and not looking confident at all, although he did cause problems for Glen Johnson and was in the right position to panic him and Carragher into giving us a hand. Vermaelen's marking worried me - he gave his opponents far too much room, and could easily have given them a free header before we equalised. But all of these problems seemed to have been more evident in the first half, and Wenger's words may well have gone some way towards dealing with them.
Anyway, we have plenty to be positive about this week. Burnely away will be tricky, but a good result at Turf Moor would be a strong signal to the rest of the Top Four, whoever the new number four may be...
---
Sunday, 13 December 2009
'The Gooner Review 08-09' Reviewed
After some Spurs fan at the Post Office tried his very best to get in the way, I finally received the screener for the Gooner Review 08-09 this week, just in time to post a quick review before the UK orders deadline tomorrow.
I found the DVD entertaining and, above all, a comforting reminder that there were others suffering with me last year. It was a bit like watching a support group; an arena where everyone felt comfortable talking about a turbulent relationship they couldn't escape, with a moody, temperamental idol who was ignoring them and possibly hiding something from them.
But it also reassured me that there are others who have faith in the boss. Bob Wilson's account of the infamous shareholders meeting shows how the media can manipulate the smallest incident into an hysterical story, and interviews with fans on the street gave me hope that Wenger's contribution to the club over the years hasn't been forgotten.
The film features celebrity Gooners such as Clive and Joe Swift, Judge Jules and Shovell from M People, and is presented by comedian Paul Kaye. Each represent their own variety of fan: Shovell is the enthusiastic, boyish supporter; Judge Jules the purist; Clive Swift the old-school, no-nonsense traditionalist. There are also interviews with several football correspondents (including Amy Lawrence from the Guardian) and a couple of Arsenal legends, most notably Wilson, whose charity is receiving 100% of all profits from the Review. Consequently, there is a wide range of opinions and the film doesn't take on any particular mindset.
The Review is essentially a countdown of the top ten issues of the season, as voted by the fans. These include the captaincy situation and the signing of Andrey Arshavin, and some of the guests provide some interesting related stories. A couple of clips of Wenger in press conferences give him a chance to fight his corner, and a players' perspective from the likes of Perry Groves gives a new take on issues such as the Eboue booing. A notable shortcoming is the lack of footage, but blame the Premier League for that - they won't let businesses make money from their content, and apparently they won't let charities either...
For a diehard Gooner, this is great viewing. It won't appeal to fairweather fans, or those who prefer to simply watch the football; but the more obsessive supporter may actually prefer this to the official end of season DVD, particularly as the most important parts of the latter would be about as enjoyable as a car crash.
If you're struggling with a present for someone who's already been given half of the club gift shop over the last couple Christmases, I'd recommend giving this DVD. To see more information and to buy the film, pop over to http://www.thegoonerreview.com/. Remember, tomorrow's your last chance to place an order.
Here's hoping this afternoon at Anfield will provide some positive material for the 09-10 Review!
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Friday, 11 December 2009
First to Finish, Last to Start
We can be pleased after a solid performance from the kids on Wednesday night, but ironically the biggest concerns were with two of the players who are already considered part of the first team squad - one of whom has just signed a new deal.
Vela's finishing was woeful, and it's becoming clear that he needs a bigger presence alongside him in the front three. He's played at his best when accompanied by Van Persie or Bendtner, and this season seems to have fit in better on the left side rather than the centre. He certainly lacks confidence without a more experienced strike partner. But I still understand Wenger's faith in him, and we've seen what the little guy can do, so I'm pleased he's been given a new contract. It's great that despite currently being on the fringes of the team, he trusts Wenger and knows that he will get the first team football he needs (hint to Fran...)
Walcott was a constant threat to the Olympiakos defence with his pace, but his first touch was seriously lacking. We can probably put that down to rustiness, but he should have done more with a couple of great Ramsey through balls. He tried one pass to Ramsey about five minutes after everyone watching (including the opposition defence) had anticipated it; this was one of several moments which suggested he's not ready to play on the left wing yet. I would have been interested in seeing Walcott moved to the middle and Vela shifted to his left, as I think Walcott might have made a better target for Ramsey and Merida's clever passes. In any case, he was far more assured when he played on the right, where he can rely on speed and can cross on his stronger foot without cutting back.
Frustratingly for someone who wishes to see a couple more English names in the team, another player who still seems to play at his best on the right is Jack Wilshere. He still needs to bulk up more if he is to start asserting himself in games - he was almost as quiet against Olympiakos as he was against Man City, but one clever jinking run through the area (from the right) deserved some notice. Bartley was fairly solid at centre-back, except for a rash tackle which led to the goal, and Thomas Cruise didn't really do anything wrong. Kerrea Gilbert, on the other hand, was dreadful - for a rightback, he has zero pace and zero acceleration, and a couple of times managed a slower turning circle than Mikael Silvestre with two broken legs. Fabianski had a good game, but panicked a bit when he conceded the goal.
On that note, I'll end with a quick mention to two goalkeepers. Congratulations to Sinan Bolat of Standard Liege for winning his team a place in the Europa League with a 95th minute headed equaliser. As for Jens Lehmann... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-C-ELPlAqAo&feature=related
---
Vela's finishing was woeful, and it's becoming clear that he needs a bigger presence alongside him in the front three. He's played at his best when accompanied by Van Persie or Bendtner, and this season seems to have fit in better on the left side rather than the centre. He certainly lacks confidence without a more experienced strike partner. But I still understand Wenger's faith in him, and we've seen what the little guy can do, so I'm pleased he's been given a new contract. It's great that despite currently being on the fringes of the team, he trusts Wenger and knows that he will get the first team football he needs (hint to Fran...)
Walcott was a constant threat to the Olympiakos defence with his pace, but his first touch was seriously lacking. We can probably put that down to rustiness, but he should have done more with a couple of great Ramsey through balls. He tried one pass to Ramsey about five minutes after everyone watching (including the opposition defence) had anticipated it; this was one of several moments which suggested he's not ready to play on the left wing yet. I would have been interested in seeing Walcott moved to the middle and Vela shifted to his left, as I think Walcott might have made a better target for Ramsey and Merida's clever passes. In any case, he was far more assured when he played on the right, where he can rely on speed and can cross on his stronger foot without cutting back.
Frustratingly for someone who wishes to see a couple more English names in the team, another player who still seems to play at his best on the right is Jack Wilshere. He still needs to bulk up more if he is to start asserting himself in games - he was almost as quiet against Olympiakos as he was against Man City, but one clever jinking run through the area (from the right) deserved some notice. Bartley was fairly solid at centre-back, except for a rash tackle which led to the goal, and Thomas Cruise didn't really do anything wrong. Kerrea Gilbert, on the other hand, was dreadful - for a rightback, he has zero pace and zero acceleration, and a couple of times managed a slower turning circle than Mikael Silvestre with two broken legs. Fabianski had a good game, but panicked a bit when he conceded the goal.
On that note, I'll end with a quick mention to two goalkeepers. Congratulations to Sinan Bolat of Standard Liege for winning his team a place in the Europa League with a 95th minute headed equaliser. As for Jens Lehmann... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-C-ELPlAqAo&feature=related
---
Friday, 4 December 2009
Assets and Targets
Hands trembling, I opened the cheap, mustard-coloured folder and took out the few loose pages.
This was it. I was really about to see Arsenal's January transfer targets - information that I was never meant to see and that no other fan would lay eyes on. Without a moment's hesitation, I hurried across the room and scrambled through my stationery drawer. I took out a pen and notepad, locked my door, and returned to the folder.
I had a few minutes at most. I hastily flicked through the pages. Bureaucratic drivel about club contacts, information from the Premier League about player registration... The shortlist. I laid out the two pages of players' names on the table.
I pressed my pen onto the notepad, and quickly scanned the list. What was Arsene planning? Who was going to fill the void up front? Was he chasing a centre back to replace Senderos? Any back-up in defensive midfield?
My brow dropped.
No Edin Dzeko, no Mario Balotelli, no Brede Hangeland... who were these players?! I didn't recognise any of these names. No time to waste, I decided, and started jotting down the shortlist as quickly as I could. Maybe the big names were on the next page.
A player from Marseille, one from Partizan Belgrade, one from Celta Vigo, one from... Crewe Alexandra? Oh good God, we're signing more youth players. THIS is Arsene's big plan.
My attention was drawn to the bottom of the list. In the centre of the page, in bold, was our maximum expenditure for the window.
£4,200,000.
Absolute joke. I carried on copying down the names. Oh well, at least there's a few English and Irish names in the mix. I kept going and turned to the second page, hoping for the big names. Nope, more obscure French and Eastern European names. Wait...
That can't be right.
Arsene Wenger and a big name? More importantly, an international brand? Arsenal Football Club - in the market for this kind of signing?
That simply doesn't make sense.
...
The Arctic Monkeys?!
Was this some sort of gimmick? A ridiculous publicity stunt that could only backfire?
My heart pounding and my face flushing with fury, I awoke with a start and thanked God it wasn't real. In my post-dream daze, I at least figured out a relevant name for this shameless marketing ploy - the Arsenic Monkeys.
Anyway, the big news today will be the World Cup draw. England can (and therefore will) draw France or Portugal, and the likes of the Ivory Coast and Ghana make the third pot quite tricky. I'm just gutted that the US and North Korea can't be drawn together.
Back to club matters, and the amount of post-Carling Cup vitriol flying around the Internet is just laughable. This is the Carling Cup, where young players show whether they can hack it at a competitive level and where the likes of Cesc Fabregas, Gael Clichy and Robin van Persie have established themselves. Without it, our strategy of signing young players rather than trying in vain to compete for the biggest names with insufficient money (yes, insufficient - we might have money but we cannot afford to spend 25 or 30 million on anyone, let alone offer them a big enough contract to fend off the likes of Real Madrid, Man City and Chelsea) would be utterly pointless.
No team in the world with an average age of 20-22 would be able to win away at Man City, and most would lose by far more than three goals. But our young team has recorded some incredible feats in the last few years. For instance, they beat a pretty strong Liverpool team this season, and a couple of years ago they reached the final and came close against a full-strength Chelsea.
If we had won at Man City, some of the bloggers and fans who have been spouting nonsense over the last couple of days would have been swept along on the tide of euphoria. And when we got knocked out in the semi-finals by Man United or Aston Villa, they would have gone ballistic at Wenger anyway.
You and I both know that putting out a strong team in the Carling Cup would be utterly pointless. We most likely wouldn't win it anyway, especially with the likes of Man City, Aston Villa and Chelsea fielding full-strength line-ups when they need to. We would simply end up with even more injured first-team players, and would damage our chances in other competitions - I doubt we'd get all the way to the Champions League semi-final with a fatigued or injured Fabregas.
The Carling Cup also offers the opportunity for less well-off fans to go to games. At a tenner for the lower tier and twenty quid for the upper, not to mention dropping season-ticket-holder priority, the home games draw a capacity crowd consisting largely of genuine locals who can't afford to spend fifty quid on matches, but who have always supported Arsenal with a passion and have watched every single match by any other means possible.
Enough of that, here's hoping for an interesting World Cup tie, preferably with the undeserving France and the downright lucky Portugal getting lumped with Brazil, Spain or Italy. And here's hoping that at least a few of our first team can get through today's training session without any broken legs.
---
This was it. I was really about to see Arsenal's January transfer targets - information that I was never meant to see and that no other fan would lay eyes on. Without a moment's hesitation, I hurried across the room and scrambled through my stationery drawer. I took out a pen and notepad, locked my door, and returned to the folder.
I had a few minutes at most. I hastily flicked through the pages. Bureaucratic drivel about club contacts, information from the Premier League about player registration... The shortlist. I laid out the two pages of players' names on the table.
I pressed my pen onto the notepad, and quickly scanned the list. What was Arsene planning? Who was going to fill the void up front? Was he chasing a centre back to replace Senderos? Any back-up in defensive midfield?
My brow dropped.
No Edin Dzeko, no Mario Balotelli, no Brede Hangeland... who were these players?! I didn't recognise any of these names. No time to waste, I decided, and started jotting down the shortlist as quickly as I could. Maybe the big names were on the next page.
A player from Marseille, one from Partizan Belgrade, one from Celta Vigo, one from... Crewe Alexandra? Oh good God, we're signing more youth players. THIS is Arsene's big plan.
My attention was drawn to the bottom of the list. In the centre of the page, in bold, was our maximum expenditure for the window.
£4,200,000.
Absolute joke. I carried on copying down the names. Oh well, at least there's a few English and Irish names in the mix. I kept going and turned to the second page, hoping for the big names. Nope, more obscure French and Eastern European names. Wait...
That can't be right.
Arsene Wenger and a big name? More importantly, an international brand? Arsenal Football Club - in the market for this kind of signing?
That simply doesn't make sense.
...
The Arctic Monkeys?!
Was this some sort of gimmick? A ridiculous publicity stunt that could only backfire?
My heart pounding and my face flushing with fury, I awoke with a start and thanked God it wasn't real. In my post-dream daze, I at least figured out a relevant name for this shameless marketing ploy - the Arsenic Monkeys.
Anyway, the big news today will be the World Cup draw. England can (and therefore will) draw France or Portugal, and the likes of the Ivory Coast and Ghana make the third pot quite tricky. I'm just gutted that the US and North Korea can't be drawn together.
Back to club matters, and the amount of post-Carling Cup vitriol flying around the Internet is just laughable. This is the Carling Cup, where young players show whether they can hack it at a competitive level and where the likes of Cesc Fabregas, Gael Clichy and Robin van Persie have established themselves. Without it, our strategy of signing young players rather than trying in vain to compete for the biggest names with insufficient money (yes, insufficient - we might have money but we cannot afford to spend 25 or 30 million on anyone, let alone offer them a big enough contract to fend off the likes of Real Madrid, Man City and Chelsea) would be utterly pointless.
No team in the world with an average age of 20-22 would be able to win away at Man City, and most would lose by far more than three goals. But our young team has recorded some incredible feats in the last few years. For instance, they beat a pretty strong Liverpool team this season, and a couple of years ago they reached the final and came close against a full-strength Chelsea.
If we had won at Man City, some of the bloggers and fans who have been spouting nonsense over the last couple of days would have been swept along on the tide of euphoria. And when we got knocked out in the semi-finals by Man United or Aston Villa, they would have gone ballistic at Wenger anyway.
You and I both know that putting out a strong team in the Carling Cup would be utterly pointless. We most likely wouldn't win it anyway, especially with the likes of Man City, Aston Villa and Chelsea fielding full-strength line-ups when they need to. We would simply end up with even more injured first-team players, and would damage our chances in other competitions - I doubt we'd get all the way to the Champions League semi-final with a fatigued or injured Fabregas.
The Carling Cup also offers the opportunity for less well-off fans to go to games. At a tenner for the lower tier and twenty quid for the upper, not to mention dropping season-ticket-holder priority, the home games draw a capacity crowd consisting largely of genuine locals who can't afford to spend fifty quid on matches, but who have always supported Arsenal with a passion and have watched every single match by any other means possible.
Enough of that, here's hoping for an interesting World Cup tie, preferably with the undeserving France and the downright lucky Portugal getting lumped with Brazil, Spain or Italy. And here's hoping that at least a few of our first team can get through today's training session without any broken legs.
---
Thursday, 3 December 2009
The Gooner Review Christmas Bundles and Competition
A quick note about the Gooner Review this Christmas. To anyone unfamiliar, the Gooner Review 08-09 is the popular alternative to the club's official end-of-season DVD, offering a fans' perspective on the most significant issues and moments of the season and featuring interviews with the likes of Nick Hornby, Bob Wilson, Peter Marinello, Judge Jules and Perry Groves.
100% of all profits go to Bob Wilson's charity, The Willow Foundation. The Foundation provides special days for seriously ill 16 to 40 year olds, and has to date funded and organised nearly 4,000 outings.
The Gooner Review are offering LIMITED EDITION Christmas bundles such as signed Bob Wilson caps, signed Peter Marinello books and The Gooner Review 08-09 DVDs from only 4.99 (plus p&p). For more information go to http://www.thegoonerreview.com/index.php?page=shop. The deadline for UK orders is Monday 14th December, and the deadline for international orders is TOMORROW.
In conjunction, they are running a Christmas competition at http://www.thegoonerreview.com/index.php?page=competition to choose the best Christmas Gooner wishes from fans. The best two entries will win The Gooner Review 08-09 DVD and a Gooner cap, both signed by Bob Wilson; the competition deadline is TOMORROW so get involved!
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Inevitable End
Again I find myself pleading for a sense of perspective.
The kids were always going to lose last night. Their best opportunity came in the very first minute, and had we put that away, the pressure would have probably got to them eventually - in any case, City's tremendous reserves of firepower would have certainly turned the game around.
They didn't do themselves as much harm as a 3-0 scoreline might suggest. Fabianski wasn't at fault for any of the goals, Ramsey was still a force to be reckoned with in midfield, and Rosicky was engineering some silky attacks. Vela worked hard up front - and probably did better than Eduardo would have on current form - and Merida was bustling about as always. Eastmond shielded the defence well in the first half, although his lack of strength became a problem.
My main concerns were that Wilshere was kept very quiet, that Traore just doesn't appear as defensively solid as we need him to be, and that Song was dodgy for much of the game. The latter may be excused as he has become more accustomed to the DM role, but he showed yet again that he is incapable of marking properly at set pieces, particularly when he gave Adebayor a free header which he could and should have put away easily. Silvestre actually had a fairly decent game, but he was entirely to blame for Wright-Phillips' goal - he simply ran backwards in a straight line, gawping at the winger's feet and looking like a Pro Evo defender with the analogue stick jammed.
I'm not for a moment saying that this had anything to do with City's win, because they had the game pretty much wrapped up by then, but Craig Bellamy should not have been on the pitch by the time he set up Weiss' goal. I'm getting sick and tired of opposition players bullying the referee against us, and let's not beat around the bush, Chris Hoy (remember that name?) simply bowed to his demands. He was constantly screaming at him; no one likes to see it, the FA included, and it's about time referees started booking players for it. People can say what they like about Arsenal players, but one thing that they don't do is harrass the referee, and they didn't deserve to receive six yellow cards. Admittedly Song was extremely lucky not to be sent off for his last man block, but perhaps this was just Hoy getting all mixed up again and trying to please everyone.
Bellamy has always been a nasty piece of work, and when he continued to yell at a silent Wilshere immediately after shaking his hand he summed up his level of professionalism.
Speaking of which, I am embarrassed that Wenger ignored Hughes at the end. It's a simple rule of courtesy, you just shake hands at the final whistle. If your opponent has done something absolutely heinous, fair enough, but Hughes didn't do anything wrong except for disagree with him a few times and stray into our side of the technical area once. If Arsene wasn't friends with Red Nose he would never have shaken hands with him after some of the crap he's had to deal with at Old Trafford.
As for our trophy hopes, let's not start squabbling again after being knocked out of the Carling Cup quarter finals. To reach this stage of the competition with a team consisting entirely of youth players and back-ups is a tremendous achievement, and if we had won it, fans would still be rubbishing it as a second-rate trophy and clamouring for some real success.
I'm still very optimistic about this season. We've had a bad run, and judging from past years this tends to be followed by a considerable improvement in the second half of the season. We're having terrible injury problems, and they can only get better... surely?
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The kids were always going to lose last night. Their best opportunity came in the very first minute, and had we put that away, the pressure would have probably got to them eventually - in any case, City's tremendous reserves of firepower would have certainly turned the game around.
They didn't do themselves as much harm as a 3-0 scoreline might suggest. Fabianski wasn't at fault for any of the goals, Ramsey was still a force to be reckoned with in midfield, and Rosicky was engineering some silky attacks. Vela worked hard up front - and probably did better than Eduardo would have on current form - and Merida was bustling about as always. Eastmond shielded the defence well in the first half, although his lack of strength became a problem.
My main concerns were that Wilshere was kept very quiet, that Traore just doesn't appear as defensively solid as we need him to be, and that Song was dodgy for much of the game. The latter may be excused as he has become more accustomed to the DM role, but he showed yet again that he is incapable of marking properly at set pieces, particularly when he gave Adebayor a free header which he could and should have put away easily. Silvestre actually had a fairly decent game, but he was entirely to blame for Wright-Phillips' goal - he simply ran backwards in a straight line, gawping at the winger's feet and looking like a Pro Evo defender with the analogue stick jammed.
I'm not for a moment saying that this had anything to do with City's win, because they had the game pretty much wrapped up by then, but Craig Bellamy should not have been on the pitch by the time he set up Weiss' goal. I'm getting sick and tired of opposition players bullying the referee against us, and let's not beat around the bush, Chris Hoy (remember that name?) simply bowed to his demands. He was constantly screaming at him; no one likes to see it, the FA included, and it's about time referees started booking players for it. People can say what they like about Arsenal players, but one thing that they don't do is harrass the referee, and they didn't deserve to receive six yellow cards. Admittedly Song was extremely lucky not to be sent off for his last man block, but perhaps this was just Hoy getting all mixed up again and trying to please everyone.
Bellamy has always been a nasty piece of work, and when he continued to yell at a silent Wilshere immediately after shaking his hand he summed up his level of professionalism.
Speaking of which, I am embarrassed that Wenger ignored Hughes at the end. It's a simple rule of courtesy, you just shake hands at the final whistle. If your opponent has done something absolutely heinous, fair enough, but Hughes didn't do anything wrong except for disagree with him a few times and stray into our side of the technical area once. If Arsene wasn't friends with Red Nose he would never have shaken hands with him after some of the crap he's had to deal with at Old Trafford.
As for our trophy hopes, let's not start squabbling again after being knocked out of the Carling Cup quarter finals. To reach this stage of the competition with a team consisting entirely of youth players and back-ups is a tremendous achievement, and if we had won it, fans would still be rubbishing it as a second-rate trophy and clamouring for some real success.
I'm still very optimistic about this season. We've had a bad run, and judging from past years this tends to be followed by a considerable improvement in the second half of the season. We're having terrible injury problems, and they can only get better... surely?
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