Normal Service Resumed....

While everyone else celebrated this afternoon's triumph, I had to dash home to bash out the following missive for the Examiner, with the sound of all the carousing going on hereabouts wafting through the living room window, as Gooners quaffed heartily at their liquid reward.

I'm just grateful that unlike all those involved in the Europa Cup on Thursday nights, our fourth placed qualification for the Champions League ensures that Sunday afternoon football isn't such a regular occurrence and I can savour such victories instead of enduring the stress of Sunday evening deadlines.

What's more I hate writing under the pressure of time constraints and I'm sure I've left more of my thoughts out below than I've manage to include in my haste. Still hopefully I won't be short of more material in the next 24 hours

Come on you Reds
Bernard

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Back in the day when the Gunners had the distraction of being genuine title contenders and our most influential encounters of the season were against the likes of Chelsea and Man Utd, this detracted somewhat from the North London Derby Day occasion.

Yet an upside to our recent perennial also-ran status, is that our dates with our own increasingly noisy neighbours from down the wrong end of Seven Sisters Road have acquired a pivotal significance of late and perhaps none more so than Sunday’s blessed opportunity to put all Spurs bullish enthusiasm back in the box, at least for the time being.

With AVB’s wholesale summer spending, there can be no denying that we benefited from meeting this unfamiliar Spurs side, while they still remain a relative bunch of strangers. Not to mention the sort of dominant and fully focused Arsenal performance that suggested we might have profited from being forced up to full speed so early on, by our crucial Champions League qualifier.

Perhaps as the season progresses and all their new arrivals establish some proper understanding, Spurs might develop into more of a force to be reckoned with. But this was irrelevant on Sunday, where there was only one “team” on the pitch and Spurs were duly sent packing with our “what a waste of money” soundtrack ringing in their ears.

Albeit that Gooner hearts were in our mouths over the course of those frantic final few minutes, with the ball ricocheting around our penalty area. Personally I remained pessimistically convinced, right up until the final whistle that the old enemy would pickpocket the equalizer, which would ‘ve put a dramatically different slant on the afternoon, leaving us thoroughly demoralized and our decidedly uncongenial guests feeling as is they’d snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. But such is football’s fine line between suicidal failure and euphoric success.

Mercifully the Gunners held firm, as they had for most of the 90 and there was no mistaking a collective determination that wasn’t matched by a Spurs side, who perhaps have yet to appreciate the importance of this occasion. In fact there were moments when Mertesacher masterfully stuck out a timely leg to snuff out the Spurs threat, when the big German looked positively Tony Adams like in his composure. And although we might’ve lost a little forward momentum when Wilshere was forced to depart the fray just before the break, there was something very comforting about Flamini’s return to our midfield.

Make no mistake, this was a big game for the Frenchman’s reintroduction, where he’d likely be left as hero, or villain and it was brilliant to see him constantly barking away at his team mates, as if he’d never been away. In fact, he appears to have returned as a far more confident character and although he’s only 29, as an elder statesman amongst our young squad, it’s possible that Flamini might lend us some of the crucial leadership traits that we’ve been crying out for, for so long.

Nevertheless, one free signing doth not a solution to all the Gunners woes make and Thursday’s daunting Champions League draw only served to remind us quite how essential it is for Arsène to add some depth to our squad, if we’re to cope with the challenge ahead. Hopefully Wenger will have answered all his critics by 11pm Monday, with some serious transfer action (other than the somewhat superfluous Yohan Cabaye).

Although, on the face of it, surely any players bought on the last day of the transfer window can not possibly be the manager’s first choice and unless Arsène pulls off some major last-minute coup, this inevitably calls into question the deficiencies at our club that leave us shopping for everyone else’s leftovers?

However it would be wrong of me to end on a sour note, following Sunday's glorious “1-0 to the Arsenal”, in a match that was billed as the confirmation of Spurs succession to our North London throne, but where thankfully my world continued to turn on its customary axis, with me teasing my deflated Spurs mates as ever “never mind….there’s always next season”

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e-mail to: londonN5@gmail.com

You've Got To Laugh....

Mikel Arteta came to us from Everton as the Toffees' main creative force, but in the absence of any other viable candidates, the unsung Spaniard has done a seriously impressive and responsible job in the holding role in our midfield. But in Arteta's absence, Manny Frimpong is just about the only remaining player in our squad for whom this is his natural role and sadly all the big-time distractions appear to have stunted Frimpong's progress and he's yet to be deemed responsible enough to take on this crucial job.

And yet no matter how blatantly obvious our need is for a defensive midfielder and for some more cover elsewhere in defence (right-sided CB and FB), we hear it announced on the radio this evening that Juan Mata's dad and his agent were watching tonight's match in the director's box.

Now personally I would take far more pleasure in winding up Chelsea fans, by pinching Juan Mata from under Mourinho's nose (as rumour has it that Jose doesn't rate Mata) than I would in upsetting the Toon Army, by relieving them of their most talented midfielder. Yet like every other Gooner, I can't help but think that if AW is actually to pull a rabbit or two out of his magic hat before the transfer window slides shut, if this should prove to be Mata or Cabaye, just about the last thing our squad needs is another talented attacking midfielder!

Hopefully with Podolski being stretchered off with a hamstring injury this evening and with Wenger immediately reacting by removing Giroud from the fray, before just about our last remaining striking option (if you exclude Theo's centre-forward delusions) ended up limping off, our manager will be left with no choice but to react by adding some more firepower from somewhere (especially with Yaya "Bambi" Sanogo looking such a long way from being a feasible alternative at present, albeit an opinion based only on the briefest of glimpses).

And with Aaron Ramsey publicly admitting to our squad being some way short in his post-match interview, I would assume this means we are entitled to be optimistic about some serious transfer action over the next few days, as otherwise surely the players would still be singing from another songbook, touting Arsene's traditional party line on the strength and quality in the dressing room and about not bringing anyone in, unless they are better than what we already have.

But it would appear that our players are no less eager than all of us Gooners, for AW to do some transfer business and it would certainly be a big boost if this can be achieved in advance of Sunday's derby. I couldn't believe how many empty seats there were in the stadium tonight, as I've rarely seen the upper tier behind the Clock End looking so deserted.

Obviously it will be a different story on Sunday, when the stadium will be rammed full and as I strolled up to the ground this evening, in the late summer sunshine, in such a relaxed mood, with us already being three goals to the good against the Turks, I couldn't help but remark upon the likely contrast between the lack of tension in the air tonight and the anxiety that's bound to be present in advance of our encounter with Spurs this weekend.

With all my Spurs mates in such bullish mood, I will be absolutely dreading the prospect of a bad result and the possibility of having to turn my phone off for several days, to avoid all the resultant piss-taking. But by the same token, with Tottenham fans enjoying their customary early season pipe-dreams and with their fantasies even more inflated than usual, it will be even more satisfying if we're able to prick their balloon, before it even gets off the ground, by making AVB"s £60 million scattergun investment look decidedly ordinary (as they did against Swansea on Sunday, where the sole Spurs player to impress was Townsend, the full-back who was just about the only positive aspect to QPR's season when he was on loan there last year).

Thus, where the lack of tension this evening ensured that I was hardly exultant at having ended Fernebace's brief Champions League experience, the butterflies in the stomach and the nervous tension in the air in advance of Sunday's derby, is guaranteed to result in a seriously heightened air of euphoria (even more than usual) should we manage to send our own increasingly noisy neighbours, back down the Seven Sisters Road with their tails between their legs

Come on you Reds
Bernard

The Heavens Opened And The Very Pleasing On The Eye Entertainment Poured Forth

It was more than a little ironic to hear Paul Lambert bemoaning bad decisions that contributed to  his side's defeat at Villa Park on Saturday. I didn't hear the Scot complaining quite so vehemently last weekend, after ref Andrew Taylor had such a stinker in our opening game that he was subsequently axed from officiating in the Premiership!

Still, at least we can deduce from Villa's subsequent respectable performances against the Scousers and in midweek against Chelsea that the Gunners didn't play that badly in our depressing curtain-raiser.

After being the butt of so much and somewhat undeserved terrace vitriol, it's great to see Aaron Ramsey's form continue on its upward trajectory, silencing all those detractors who'd opted to make Ramsey the scapegoat for all our ills. Especially when Aaron was still recovering from a career-threatening injury and was so frequently being asked to perform in an unfamiliar, many would say unsuitable role, as an obvious square peg in a round hole, lacking the necessary pace to play out wide on the flank.

Yet while the Welshman might have been afforded sufficient time & space in the middle of the park against Fulham, to deservedly end up with the Man of the Match plaudits, for my money and in such difficult conditions (where despite the amazingly efficient drainage, it must've been dreadfully difficult to judge a pass, with the ball being constantly slowed by all that sitting water), the most obvious class act was Cazorla.

We should have a squad with enough depth to ensure we didn't require Santi's introduction last Saturday, to try and effect a rescue, when the Spaniard was plainly not at his best after an exhausting return trek from South America. But perhaps Cazorla was left feeling somewhat guilty, following the casual lapse in concentration that led to him having his pocket picked in the build up to Villa being awarded the penalty (incorrectly IMHO in spite of all the post-match analysis that proved otherwise) because he was definitely up for it against Fulham.

And although the diminutive Spaniard might've not had such an obvious impact on the outcome, he produced an entertaining array of delicate little touches in such difficult conditions, some directly in front of his adoring faithful filling the entire Putney End behind the goal, which positively screamed of the man's genius and where the little matador left me instinctively hollering "ole", as he made a monkey of his comparatively clumsy opponent.

Better still, I'm so accustomed to us turning up for these dreaded early KOs (first up against the wall, come the revolution, will be the TV execs responsible!), only to fail to pull our finger out until the second half, that it was an extremely pleasant surprise to see the Gunners come out of the traps in such fine and hungry style from the kick-off, as if they truly had something to prove to us and every other bugger.

If I've any criticisms, then it's the fact that we didn't kick on and go for the throat, after taking the lead, but instead sat back and allowed the home team some breathing space, enabling their unfamiliar line-up to grow more comfortable on the ball. But then our inability to put opponents to the sword when we get the scent of blood is an age old failing and under such inclement circumstances and after our midweek exploits in Turkey, I guess I should cut them some slack in this instance.

After taking so much stick for his creditable Bozo the clown impersonation last week, Sczczny deserves plenty of credit. Aside from his contribution in Fulham's consolation goal, our keeper's handling was pretty much perfect, which was no mean feat under the circumstances. Moreover, if it wasn't for Woijech's double save in the first half, this match might've resulted in an entirely different story.

Two-nil up and looking very comfortable at the break, I turned to my neighbour to enquire "can we go home now?", fearful that it might all go tits up second half. Thankfully it didn't and I was glad I didn't because I wouldn't have wanted to miss out on the party atmosphere in our stand behind the goal, as a couple of thousand decidedly damp but joyful Gooners more than made up for last weekend's misery. Fulham's such a friendly ground to visit and with such a large away contingent, it often has the feeling of a home game, albeit with a far improved atmosphere and for some (usually alcohol related) reason, our visits to Craven Cottage often seem to be the inspiration for new terrace ditties.

It's not original and I fancy that you'll probably hear the same tune being sung at grounds up and down the country this season, but in case you heard it on the box and were wondering, this was the catchy chorus that was resonating from the Gooner end on Saturday.

But that's more than enough waffle from me for one week and besides hopefully it will be worth me saving some superlatives in reserve for next Sunday
Keep the faith
Come on you Reds
Bernard

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Fulham has always provided one of my favourite Premiership outings. If tourists were coming to London, wanting to experience our peculiar brand of the beautiful game, before the sterile corporate makeover is complete, the quaint, friendly but “in yer face” ancient environs of Craven Cottage would be my recommended destination. So long might Fulham’s hirsute new custodian ensure that this prime riverside pitch continues to evade the clutches of greedy property developers.

Sadly the weather didn’t put out the welcome mat on Saturday, with a deluge that might have eventually forced the match to be abandoned if it hadn’t abated. However, in view of the fact that Martin Jol has appeared to take a perverse pleasure in putting one over on our manager in the past, I certainly didn’t expect our hosts to hand over the bottle and invite the Gunners to help themselves.

In fact, with our depleted squad forcing Arsène to select pretty much the same side that had been disturbed by a less then friendly firework display in the wee hours, outside the team hotel in Istanbul, prior to well and truly putting Fernebace to the sword, followed by a long schlep back from Turkey, the couple of thousand Gooners who turned up at the Cottage were full of trepidation, in anticipation of a difficult afternoon.

Yet it is styles that make matches and mercifully Fulham’s latest incarnation flattered the Gunners, enabling us to turn on the sort of style that was remarkable under the water-logged circumstances and which was perhaps testament to the fact that it is not entirely soft-soap, when Wenger spouts off like a broken record about the qualities of our existing squad.

But seven days are a very long time in football and as wrong as the over the top reaction was from the not so faithful to our opening day defeat to Villa, by the same token, I’m minded to keep my powder dry after two subsequent, comprehensive victories. After all, with Spurs to come next Sunday and the transfer window inexorably sliding shut, for all we know, we could be back in the same depressing boat by Monday week.

Nevertheless, even if it should prove only temporary, I’m hugely thankful for the two impressive results that have lifted the black mood hereabouts and left us looking forward to this weekend’s Derby, feeling far more optimistic. As talented a footballer as he might be, I have my doubts as to whether Cabaye is likely to solve all our woes and I pray Wenger surprises us all with a somewhat more significant addition to the squad in the days ahead.

If the past week has demonstrated anything, it is the possibility that there exists a core spirit in the current Arsenal squad, amongst a group of players who’ve been together for a considerable amount of time and who’ve shared the anguish of successive failure. As a result, one can’t help but sense the sort of hunger for success that might only require the encouragement of a couple of fresh, but well respected faces, for this to flourish.

It’s always “crunch time” in football, but as far as the Arsenal is concerned, I can’t help but feel that le Prof is verging on a precipice. Where either he's successful in providing his young charges with the additional ammunition this squad requires, for them to push on and fulfill all our dreams, or where more of the same “make do and mend” will be the beginning of the end, as it all begins to fall apart.

But to misquote an ancient TV title (and to show my age), it’s a case of “never mind the width, feel the quality” and I fear that Wenger’s focus on talent might prove to be the stumbling block. As demonstrated by the likes of Cazorla and Ramsey on Saturday, this Arsenal side is not lacking when it comes to skill. It’s personality and character that we’ve often been found wanting for in recent times and I’m uncertain Wenger’s expertise extends to recognizing traits that can’t be measured on a spreadsheet. Only time and tide will tell?

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 e-mail to: londonN5@gmail.com

Dunno About The Glass, But The Dressing Room's Certainly Half Empty

            Strolling around to Saturday’s curtain-raiser, I pondered on whether the Arsenal might have increased matchday programme prices to £3.50, which was a sad reflection on where our club is at present, with us arriving at the opening game of a new season, with nothing more exciting awaiting us upon arrival than the introduction of goal-line technology!

            Perhaps it’s an inevitable result of the waning enthusiasm of my advancing years, but where in the past I’ve always looked forward to the first game of the season with spine-tingling anticipation, in shooting the breeze with some of my Gooner pals, it seemed evident to me that I was far from alone in my unenthused feeling that the club’s apparent failure to stimulate our excitement with our apparent transfer-window inertia, had resulted in a disappointingly downbeat “are we really back here already” mood. Let’s face it, you know you’re not properly firing on all four Gooner cylinders, when instead of walking around to the Arsenal to watch the Premiership’s spoilt, greedy brats perform for the first time in a couple of months, you’re half tempted to stop indoors and watch seriously dedicated and humble sportsmen perform in the athletics.

            But then unlike in years gone by, where absence made the heart grow fonder, part of the problem nowadays is that the not so beautiful game never truly shuts shop. Thus we arrived at the ground to watch a game involving an Arsenal side that we know full well is currently no closer to battling for honours than we’ve been in recent seasons.

            Mind you, it all looked very promising for the first five minutes, with an opening goal that resulted from the sort of slick footballing entertainment, which was the trademark of the Arsenal of old. But it didn’t take long for us to be brought back down to earth with a bump, as Sczczny did likewise to Agbonlahor after he’d glided through the final third of the park unchallenged.

            No matter any grievances with subsequent decisions, the truth of the matter is that the Gunners lack the necessary firepower to ensure that incompetent officiating is a minor insignificance. Moreover if our squad appeared painfully shallow prior to the weekend, unfortunately the patently dysfunctional failure of the Arsenal’s suits to do their obscenely well-rewarded job, has ensured that these particular chickens have well and truly limped home to roost.

            The problem now, is that much like after our early season humbling at Old Trafford a couple of seasons back, after keeping his hands in his pockets all summer, Arsène will probably be forced to panic buy our way out of trouble, with a last minute, haphazard supermarket sweep. And even if we do witness a Wenger spending spree, with Champions League qualification and the North London derby only around the corner, it might well prove to be too little, too late.

            While I appreciate that there might be any number of undisclosed problems purchasing certain star players, what I simply cannot fathom is why the Gunners are incapable of buying absolutely any players, before the clock starts ticking down every single summer. If I were responsible for the Arsenal’s transfer business, I would’ve long since handed in my notice, in utter embarrassment at my own incompetence!

            Just about the only minor positive note of a thoroughly depressing afternoon was the positive performance of Rosicky. Yet in the absence of Arteta, we’ve absolutely no midfielders with sufficient nous and responsibility to sit at home and ensure that we don’t end up embarrassed by a swift counter, when pressing for some redemption.

            And don’t get me started on our lack of defensive cover. I know that the embarrassment of riches available to the likes of Man City does not necessarily make them contenders, but you don’t need any coaching badges to know that you are going to come unstuck going into a campaign without four viable centre-backs and four full-backs.

            Still as everyone keeps reassuring me, it’s only the first game of many and who knows, perhaps le Prof will pull several rabbits out of the hat in the weeks ahead and everything will be hunky-dory. Only time will tell and if Wenger can silence all those bullish Spurs fans in two weeks time, I will forgive him anything.

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email to: LondonN5@gmail.com

Just when I thought I was out…they pull me back in.

(Somewhat outdated by yesterday's anti-climactic opener but thought I might as well post it before going into depressed, rant mode!)

After successive summers of frustrating transfer window torment I’ve grown increasingly cynical, to the point where I’ve spent the past couple of months doing my utmost to ignore the entire media merry-go-round of groundless rumours.

And yet like every other footie fan, I increasingly crave the slightest opportunity to grasp at those few crumbs of encouragement, which might proffer a brief sojourn in that Premiership fool’s paradise, where anything is possible, before this perennial bout of intoxicating optimism is invariably quashed by the sobering ravages of our first dodgy result.

To avoid the disappointment of being wound up (and subsequently let down!) by the wall-to-wall media canards, I tend to hold in contempt all the close season coverage of the beautiful game, in the belief that it's nothing but “white noise”, until such time as we are privy to the incontrovertible evidence of the press conference, with the player standing there wearing the shirt. But it’s impossible to maintain such stoicism, the moment one succumbs to the incessant barrage of social media.

So as the new season draws ever more nigh, my insouciance goes out the window and as ever, I find myself being sucked in. Along with every other Gooner, I've ended up anxiously wringing out every snippet of transfer gossip for the vaguest hint of some Arsenal relevance. 

Some of my Twitter addicted mates remain so certain of the credibility of their “insider” info that they refuse to waver in their conviction regarding the imminent arrival of Suarez and/or Rooney. But then it was only a few weekends back that their bogus informants left my naïve mates glued to their laptops all day Monday, eagerly awaiting an implausible scoop concerning the signing of a unlikely triumvirate of both these two and Cesc Fabregas to boot!

Previously we’ve suffered Arsène’s transfer window inertia and (in contrast to Man Utd’s supposed point blank refusal to do likewise, at any price) the sale of our best player to our rivals, albeit hardly in good grace. However with Gazides having put paid to Gooner patience and raising expectation levels beyond anything we’ve known in the recent past, by having made such a major hoo-ha about the Gunners long-awaited arrival in the financial Promised Land, there are bound to be serious terrace tantrums, should we fail to manage a single marquee signing this time around. Then again, based on the anecdotal evidence of his lieutenant, Dick Law’s laughable incompetence, I wouldn’t put money on this nincompoop’s ability to sign his own name!

Despite all the ugly baggage that has so many high-minded fans cringing at the prospect of this cretin darkening Highbury's doors, I certainly wouldn’t kick Luis Suarez out of the Gooner bed. Aside from the prolific Uruguayan goalscorer's impressive strike rate (in such a mediocre Scouse side), I fancy that our somewhat pacific squad might profit, should they be forced to rally around the unseemly antics of such a nasty creature, thereby fostering the sort of "us against the world" spirit evident in so many successful squads.

            Moreover there can be no argument that an additional 20+ goals per season would assist us in outscoring our opponents and that judging by pre-season performances, the threat of some serious competition appears to have had a positive impact on the likes of Giroud. Yet from my point of view, it’s not so important who we sign, but that the Gunners go out and invest the sort of sums, which might reassure those such as Jack Wilshere that the Arsenal are no longer content merely to tread water and count the wonga.

             Although as thrilled as I'd be by the arrival of a proven Premiership goalscorer and as delighted as I might be that we’ve somehow managed to offload so much deadwood, I remain concerned about Wenger’s failure to deal with our obvious defensive inadequacies. Our backline is beginning to look quite settled and solid, but the limitations of our shallow squad are likely to be shown up, as soon as injuries and suspension begin to bite.

            My worry is that Arsene’s obsession with value for money and his fear of clubs attempting to take advantage of the fact that we are cash rich, has le Gaffer waiting for the likes of Liverpool to blink first. But the risk being that the top shelves will end up bare, with the Gunners left signing “bubkas” (that well know Russian striker) yet again!

            Not for the first time we’ll be kicking off a new season with a relatively unknown French youngster as our only new addition, in the hope that he and some promising youngsters (eg. Zelalem) might make a name for themselves. But such trifles won’t prevent me from bowling around to my Highbury temple this weekend, in the customary buoyant mood that is every fan’s prerogative on football’s high holy day.

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email to: LondonN5@gmail.com

Anyone interested in a season ticket share?

I've got a Danish Gooner pal who's keen on finding someone interested in sharing their season ticket. Ideally he's interested in Clock End or North Bank Lower, but I'm sure he'd be delighted to entertain any offers?

Or alternatively, on the basis that there's the odd spare season ticket on offer, if there is anyone who's interested in sharing one with my Danish pal, please feel free to get back to me so I can put you in touch direct

TTFN
Bernard


PS. Now if only Theo had displayed some of same fearlessness seen from the Ox tonight!

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email to: LondonN5@gmail.com

Metal Guru, Is It You?

Hi folks

It would've been brilliant to have been presented with an opportunity to wrap 4th place up against Wigan on Tuesday, as this might've made for a far more celebratory feel to our last home game of the season. But then I suppose it was just too much to hope for Spurs to drop points, in the face of such a poor and sloppy performance by Stoke. If I didn't know any better, I would've said that Charlie Adam just didn't fancy running for the entire 90 minutes and went looking for a second booking at the start of the second half?

What's more I suppose it would be a sorry state of affairs to think that qualification for football's most vaunted competition, actually came down to whether an unappealing character like Adam managed to complete 90 minutes for Stoke. In truth, although many might contend that it doesn't really matter how you get there, just that you do, there is something to be said for the fact that the Gunners are going to be forced to earn our right to qualify for the Champions League by winning both our last two matches, rather than being presented with qualification by default, as the least incompetent of the two contenders.

Moreover, Spurs win at the Britannia does at least dissipate the ominous shadow of what would've been my most dreaded scenario, which would've been the prospect of going to St James Park next Sunday, only needing a draw, as I would've been terrified that this would've resulted in an even more fraught display, whereby the Gunners weren't sure whether to stick, or twist. Knowing that we lack the capability to actually shut up shop and play for a draw, I would've been convinced that this was going to end in disaster.

Although Spurs and somewhat inevitably, Adebayor, have managed to maintain the pressure, there was some solace in Newcastle winning at Loftus Road, knowing that the Toon are not likely to be nearly so motivated as they might've been by the looming spectre of relegation and you can rest assured that Lilywhite hordes would much rather be in our position, having qualification in our own hands.

After seeing what transpired at Vicarage Road this afternoon, where Watford progressed to the play-off final thanks to Almunia's antics in goal and Manuel's dramatic penalty save, I only hope we don't end up facing another blood-curdling encore of last season's dramatic denouement at the Hawthorns, as I'm really not sure my old ticker is up to it!

Come on you Reds
Big Love
Bernard

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Extra-time would’ve been ideal in Saturday’s FA Cup Final, to ensure the Lactics had been sapped of every last bit of energy in advance of Tuesday night’s encounter, but you had to be particularly hard-boiled (or a City fan!), not to enjoy the FA Cup’s fairy-tale climax. The heart-warming realization of Wigan chairman, Dave Whelan’s dream, felt like an increasingly rare triumph for the romance of football, over the seemingly unstoppable force of the modern day game’s mercenary financial muscle.

Moreover, although in his endearingly honest fashion, Martinez freely admitted he was already focusing on extra-time, the timely introduction of Wigan’s match-winner from the bench, proved to be a tactical masterstroke. Not to mention, a long-overdue slice of good fortune, for a manager who’s admirable refusal to forsake his footballing principles, in the face of the Premiership’s overwhelming economic pressures, has earned the affable Spaniard the much-deserved admiration of all aficionados of the beautiful game.

By contrast, shame on the FA for the lamentably negligent way, in which they’ve contrived to dull the lustre of the greatest knockout tournament on the planet. Time was when Wembley could’ve sold out three times over, no matter the allure of the participants involved, in what was once the end of season fiesta of Cup Final weekend.

Not only is it sacrilegious to have the Final shoehorned in, as a distracting Brummagem detour for the precious Premiership charabanc, but when I think of the kudos I enjoyed as a kid, from all those school pals who hadn’t been so privileged to relish the magic of a Wembley final in person, it’s tragic to witness ANY empty seats, let alone the criminally conspicuous absence of so many corporate bums, from such large swathes of the battily-priced best seats in the Bobby Moore suite.

It’s also sad that the Wigan camp and their meager following, from what is and always will be a rugby town, are denied the opportunity of wallowing in the euphoria of their momentous success and are instead forced to immediately focus on the daunting prospect of the Arsenal raining on their relegation-threatened parade. But then you’ll have to forgive me for hoping that the Lactics turn up on Tuesday far too fatigued, both physically and emotionally, to be able to muster a repeat of Saturday’s impressive performance.

Additionally I pray that our players are not taken in, by all those pundits who’ve seem to believe that the Gunners need only turn up to win a game that’s being touted as such a home banker. Otherwise the customary “lap of appreciation” following our last appearance on home turf, of a largely disappointing campaign, could end up a seriously depressing affair!

And any celebrations following a win against Wigan will be somewhat subdued, knowing that we’ve still got to go to St. James Park and spoil the Geordies’ end of season party. Nevertheless Wenger deserves a show of respect for mounting a minor resurrection, considering we were languishing in 10th back in December, when few Gooners envisaged that this squad was capable of maintaining our manager’s astonishingly consistent run in Europe after our worst start to a season in 18 years.

With Arsène’s old sparring partner having suddenly opted for the sanctuary of his pipe & slippers, you have to wonder if this might influence le Prof’s plans at the expiry of his contract next year. Swapping one dour Scotsman for another at Man Utd has left Wenger as the last of the top-flight’s long serving managers (with Tony Penis lagging ten years behind le Gaffer's 17-year tenure, or at least until he's handed his P45 by Stoke). Perhaps it’s me who’s struggling to come to terms with my own advancing years, but it’s hard to accept that a man who arrived in this country as an unprecedented innovator, is now perceived as a Premiership dinosaur.

Here’s hoping our very own T-Rex can still “Get It On” sufficiently that it’s us and not Spurs banging our gongs Sunday week.

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e-mail to: londonN5@gmail.com

By Far The Greatest Team?

My Spurs mate contends that Fergie's team selection against Chelsea yesterday (with the inclusion of the positively anonymous Anderson, Valencia and Cleverly) was contrived to ensure the defeat that might end up denying Spurs Champions League qualification and allow old Red Nose to feast on the spoils with the purchase of Gareth Bale this summer. Far-fetched perhaps, but I do love a conspiracy theory!

Meanwhile it was excruciating sitting here praying for RvP to do us a favour, with one of those 'Fergie time' late winners that have spoilt the mood on so many Sunday afternoons in the past, only for Mata to come up trumps and steal the points for Chelsea.

And thus all eyes will be turning to Stamford Bridge on Wednesday, hoping Benitez's side can get themselves back up sufficiently to do the business again and as I understand it, thereby ensure that a four point return from our last two games will be sufficient to get the Gunners over the Champions League qualification line, even if only on goal difference.

However while all my Spurs pals are just desperate to secure themselves an invite to the big boys party, I can't help but feel slightly more ambivalent, after 15 successive years of schlepping around Europe, in a vain search for that elusive big-eared prize. When I contrast our snoozefests against Fulham and QPR, to the high-octane Champions League semifinals in midweek, it's hard to look at this Gunners squad as one being capable of exactly lighting up Europe's greatest competition.

Then again, as it's said, if you are not there, you are nowhere, but there's also the argument that our failure to qualify might be the only outcome that might sufficiently stir the suits at the club from the current status-quo and that by scrabbling to fourth place this will only offer further encouragement merely to carry on as you were, in our current, highly profitable, but disappointingly unambitious fashion.

Still, until we witness the outcome of Wednesday encounter, all such debate is moot, while our future rests in the hands of the footballing gods

Keep the faith
Bernard

_________________________________________________

Much like Fulham, QPR ranks as one of the friendliest London derbies nowadays. Having arrived in West London early, to plot up and listen to the radio comms of all the thrills & spills in the 3pm KOs across the country, I was sat in the Spring sunshine, outside a local cafe, shooting the breeze with a couple of QPR pensioners. As I sat there bemoaning the fact that despite our somewhat deceptive undefeated run of recent weeks, the Gunners ponderous performances have been the source of increasing disillusionment, with so many of our players seemingly having long since been far more focused on the idyllic location of their tropical summer getaway, instead of their football.

These two old geezers soon set me straight, reminding me to count my Gooner blessings because they’ve suffered an entire season watching a Hoops side who’ve seemingly had their feet up since last August!  So I know I really shouldn’t be whinging after a “job done” weekend, in which we’ve kept up our end of our current consistent run, but you only had to watch Wenger jumping up and down on the Loftus Road touchline, like a five-year old having a temper tantrum, to appreciate quite how painfully frustrating it is to endure such ponderously impotent performances.

One of my pals described the battle for a top four finish as being akin to “three tired old nags, running out of steam in the finishing straight at Aintree”. If there’s some scant solace to this “end-of-seasonitis” that’s afflicted our agonizing struggle to scrabble over the finishing line, it’s that the Arsenal and almost every other Premiership outfit appears to be plagued by similar complacency.

I was very fortunate to secure the unexpected golddust of two face value tickets amongst us Gooners, in the School End behind the goal, for a couple who’d travelled all the way from Singapore on their annual holyers. They’d been expecting nothing more than their midweek trip to the Arsenal museum and were thus chuffed to bits, not only to be able to experience the far more vociferous and enthralling away match atmosphere amongst the travelling faithful, but to find themselves only one row from the front, amidst the tight but severely cramped confines of one of the few remaining traditional football grounds in the Premiership (for a couple more weeks at least!).

According to our obligatory “we’ll never play here again” taunts and my Asian Gooner pals customarily remote matchday experience from several thousand miles away, they were understandably blown away, by what might’ve been a last opportunity to savour live Premiership football in such close proximity to be able to smell the grass and to almost be able to reach out and touch the participants.

Mind you, I nearly ended up blaming them for missing all twenty significant seconds of this match. No matter that it’s the entirely innocent act of reimbursing a kindly soul for face value match tickets, with the ever-present paranoia of being pinched outside a ground, I’d long since taken the readies to pass on once inside the ground. As a result, I ended up sending a text as the game commenced, in my efforts to pass on the cash before my blinkered focus on the football resulted in me forgetting all about it. Mercifully I just managed to look up in time to see Arteta assist Walcott in stunning the entire stadium with the swiftest goal of the season.

Naturally the assumption was that we’d subsequently be able to relax, as the Gunners swiftly put this game to bed, by rolling over a woeful, already relegated Rangers side who struggled even to display some last vestiges of pride. We should’ve been able to avoid all the tension endured in the dramatic League 1 denouement the previous weekend and the madcap Championship mayhem prior to our late KO that’s left travelling Gooners facing an arduous trek to Hull, instead of the short hop to Watford (that’s almost like a home game for North-West London Gooners).

Yet while we spend the remaining couple of matches chewing our finger nails to the quick and the pundits endlessly prognosticate on the various permutations, sadly it would appear as if the only disinterested parties are the players themselves. On paper only Chelsea’s squad appears to possess sufficient quality to actually qualify for a return to the big stage, with any realistic hope of mounting a challenge. But as the saying goes, I fancy that “this race is not to the swift, or the battle to the strong” and that somewhat undeservedly, the spoils will end up with the two least complacent of the three sides.

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e-mail to: londonN5@gmail.com

Loics Can Be Deceiving

"I like the Loic of that: QPR striker Remy wants to complete dream move to the Arsenal"

I'd definitely take the money and run for Podolski. Perhaps Lukas would come good in a team where he had some leaders around him, who could inspire him, but he lacks the self-motivation and the sort of appetite necessary to be a sufficiently consistent threat in this Arsenal side

He actually didn't do too badly playing up front at QPR and did at least stop me moaning every time Sczczny hoofed the ball forward because we did at least have someone up front capable of winning the ball in the air. But then Podolski is over 6ft tall and so winning aerial challenges is little more than one would expect from a tall muscular striker, but sadly I struggle to recall a single header that Lukas won in the air from a punt up field, falling to the feet of someone in red & white and virtually every ball that he won in the air seemed to result in the Hoops ending up in possession.

Some might say that the German front man needs more time to adapt to the peculiarities of Premiership football, but for my money the man just lacks the necessary hunger and mental drive to be an effective threat, week in, week out and at the Arsenal he's destined to produce the scant reward of a handful of goals each season, from those rare opportunities when he's presented with a chance to beast the ball into the back of the net.

Contrast Podolski's performance for the Gunners with those we've seen this season of Reus while playing for Dortmund and it soon becomes patently obvious why Lukas is playing second fiddle to the Dortmund player in the German national team. OK so perhaps a Champions League semifinal offers a little more motivation, but against Madrid, Reus looked so much more mobile and so much more hungry than Podolski.

Unfortunately complacency and insufficient passion and enthusiasm is not an affliction that's limited to the Gunners and sadly seems to increasingly plague the entire Premiership, the closer the players come to putting their feet up on a tropical sun lounger. Although while I was bemoaning the fact that the Gunners seem to have long since been more focused on their idyllic holidays than their football these past couple of months, as I was shooting the breeze with a couple of QPR pensioners, outside a cafe before this evening's game a Loftus Road, they soon set me straight and suggested that I count our blessings, as apparently their players did likewise, as long ago as last August!

But there are two specific disturbing idiosyncrasies that I've noticed about Podolski. When he's been called back to the bench to be introduced to a game as a sub, with some 15 or 20 minutes left on the clock (according to AW's immutable routine?), I've watched through my binoculars, while Lukas has seemingly spent an eternity phaffing with his boot laces, shin pad ties (tape), removing his tracksuit and I've noted the inordinate amount of time taken between him getting the nod from Bouldie and Lukas eventually appearing on the touchline ready to be introduced. When I contrast this, say for example, with Ian Wright and the rare occasion when WWW was left on the bench, Wrightie would be positively chomping at the bit and straining at the leash to get involved and might perhaps be more likely to strain a muscle, having been too anxious to enter the fray to have stretched his limbs sufficiently. Whereas with Podolski being limited to a brief cameo, in the dying throes of those games when he's come on as sub, his lack of urgency hardly screams of a player with sort of hunger & desire that suggest he's desperate to make his mark and influence the outcome.

Then on those rare occasions when AW has played Lukas in a central role, as in the past couple of games, there's been many an occasion when I, along with every other Gooner, has felt that he's been hard done by and that the ref has blindly ignored the fact that Lukas has been man-handled from behind by the opposing centre-back and that he should've been awarded a free-kick. Yet on many of these occasions, I find myself having to bite my tongue, as my first instinct has been to scream at him not to be such a complete and utter cissy and to use some of his obvious strength, to resist such muscular attentions and to stand up to the sort of physical challenge that is inevitable when performing as a centre-forward. 

He's going to have his shirt-pulled, have arms mauling him and to be generally put-off, in every conceivable manner 99 times out of a 100, when playing with his back to goal, with a centre-back right up his jacksey. Occasionally this will result in the award of a free-kick, but it's his duty to dish out just as much stick as he receives, so while the ref ignores most of these misdemeanours, occasionally he'll concede the odd free-kick.

Instead of which Podolski winds me up with his tendency to hit the deck, crumpling in a heap every single time he comes into contact with the opposing centre-back, as if he's somehow surprised by the assault. To compound my frustration, even though it's obvious that the ref hasn't taken a blind bit of notice, instead of jumping to his feet and perhaps battling back to retrieve the ball, Lukas tends to remain seated, perhaps beating the turf with both fists, like an indignant baby, bawling in his pram after having his dummy stolen!

In fact, sadly Podolski's performances to date have suggested few redeeming qualities to me. I really shouldn't get on his back, as he was no more culpable than anyone else for the thoroughly uninspiring dawdle around the park at Loftus Rd this evening. But he's certainly no Santi Cazorla, who can get away with his tendency to hide in plain sight for large periods of matches because you just know that if the diminutive Spaniard gets a yen to be more involved and take some responsibility in a game, instead of laying the ball off to a teammate at the earliest opportunity, Santi's more than capable of dropping his shoulder and caressing one into the top corner, with all the artistic finesse of a painter like Goya.

By contrast we were awarded a free-kick in the second half in the middle of the D, in front of Rangers penalty area, which appeared to be both a little too close and a little too straight for Cazorla to be able to curl the ball over the wall and get it up and down in time to have us whooping and a hollering in the School End as the ball slid under the crossbar in front of all of us Gooners. I watched through my binoculars to see what transpired between the triumvirate of Podolski, Walcott and Cazorla as they stood over this set-piece.

Perhaps due to his limited command of the language, Santi lingered in the background, just in case no one else in red & white was eager to step up. But Cazorla wasn't exactly pressing his case and his apparent reticence hardly suggested someone who was desperate to nail down a win bonus, 3 pts and potentially all that additional dosh that I assume they stand to earn by way of bonuses for qualification into the Champions Lg. Theo wasn't exactly grabbing for the ball either, but then apart from an instinctive snap shot in the penalty area mid way through the first half, resulting in a smart near post save by the QPR keeper, I got the distinct impression from Walcott (and the rest of our "highly motivated" team) that he'd done his job in the first 20 seconds of this game and beyond that, it was going to take a QPR equaliser to motivate him and his colleagues to pull their collective finger out.

As it became obvious that Podolski was the only player with any particular interest in assuming responsibility for this free-kick, I turned to my neighbour and prophetically predicted that he'd blast the ball straight into the defensive wall and sadly Lukas duly obliged. Not that I claim to have any special predictive powers, otherwise I would've mortgaged the flat last Tuesday and dashed around to the bookies, to bung the lot on a bet, taking the 1/4 odds that my brother-out-of-law in Dublin informed me were still being offered on an all German Champions League final. Mind you it didn't take a seer to take advantage of stick-on 25 per cent return on one's money!

But Podolski's not exactly capable of an artistic set piece and his technique relies solely on using sufficient brute force, to transfer the sort of power into his shot that might trouble the keeper, either due to the ball travelling too fast for him to react, or merely as a result of unpredictable flight of the modern day spheres when struck with sufficient strength.

Having tried to make my argument for biting off the hand that's foolish enough to offer us a profit on Podolski (who knows , perhaps Pod will prosper amidst the slower tempo game played in Turkey?), I'm really not sure it would be wise to reinvest the readies in Loic Remy. Then again, any such debate is probably specious because with the limits of our utterly soulless "sustainable business model" and with AW being so obsessed with VFM (value for money), if there's any other club looking to take advantage of Remy's relegation buy out clause, with Liverpool being most desperate for a goalscorer, having been deprived of their overly voracious front man for a quarter of the season, then the Gunners are always going to end up being outbid, whether this be the amount of the transfer fee, or the wages offered.

In truth I haven't seen enough of Remy to feel confident about passing judgement (then again, nor have the Rangers fans and they've been watching him every week!!) and perhaps the French striker has more to offer than he demonstrated against us this evening, playing amidst such a piss-poor QPR outfit. But based solely on what I've seen of Rangers in recent weeks, there's only one player in that woeful team capable of putting bums on seats (and there was a surprising number of absent arses for a London derby at such a pint-sized stadium) and that's Andros Townsend, who I presume will be returning to the mob at the wrong end of the Seven Sister Road come the end of the season.

The long-standing rumours about Jovetic also make me laugh. I've no idea how good the Montenegrin is, apart from his impressive goal tally stats in a mediocre Fiorentina side. The only time I've actually watched Jovetic play, was for his country against England and I seem to recall that his teammate, Vucinic was more impressive on the night. But surely it's an entirely moot point, to be debating the possible purchase of a player with as high a profile across the continent as Jovetic because even if he is the answer to our need for a 20 plus goals per season striker, we know full well that there is no one at our club who's capable of convincing Wenger to throw an additional £10 or £20 million and to simply stump up whatever it takes to outbid the opposition and make a statement of serious intent by securing the signature of a genuine marquee signing.

Sadly it seems to me, that unless there remains some remote tribe blessed with an abundance of superlative footballing talent, who continue to hold faith with the now long-forgotten illusion that there's some inexplicable allure to playing for Arsène Wenger and the Arsenal, that merits them earning far less, or accepting a considerably reduced sum in transfer remuneration than they might receive from a club with serious ambition, as opposed to an Arsenal where all decisions are strictly governed by their commercial viability, according to the business principles of small-minded, bean-counting economists with absolutely zero sense of football's soul, then I can't help but believe that we're destined for continued disappointment each summer!

Keep the faith
Bernard