As I look across the dark morass of the football-less two weeks… I know what sailors feel when they are marooned on a deserted island.
The conversations & imaginary football free-for-alls of Pele vs. Ronaldo vs. Maradonna vs. Messi vs. Zidane grow stale and mind numbing boredom sets in… the tins of salvaged food and cans of water start to run low.
Drinking buddies and fellow fans suddenly seem insufferable, their mindless blather and banal comments on the all pervading social media networks irk like never before……The other sailors who seemed like a pleasant bunch have transformed into blood thirsty mongrels, fights break out…..
Ladies & gentlemen, Welcome to Football withdrawal 101…Detox is neigh impossible, all we can do is knuckle down and wait for the next hit.
This is what cold turkey feels like: the nervous sweats, incessant itching and constant mental torture of wondering which of our precious first teamers is going to be broken like a porcelain vase under the unsympathetic gaze of the inconsiderate slave masters that go by Del Bosque, Low, Trappatoni or Hodgson.
International football tends to be as dull as ditch-water, so watching insipid performances by a bunch who don’t seem very interested is a poor poor substitute for the real thing. England hasn’t shot themselves in the foot, which is as interesting as a pachyderm taking a dump. The result will polarize the English hacks who will start with their inevitable “Has our time come?” routine or resort to an old favorite: “Rooney’s fat and these kids are tosh and we won because the opposition was shite”.
Moving onto Spain, who surprisingly drew against the dead rubber France. The fans have begin their usual war regarding the “Ballon d’Or” and who it should go to. It’s the Spanish league for heaven’s sake, a donkey in a jersey would be able to slot in provided Inesta,Xavi, Alonso or Ozil are pinging balls into the box, who cares about that rubber duck of a trophy?
The two (Messi & Ronaldo for the ignorant few) in competition can’t be compared, at least not be sane men. They are so good, that its almost boring. Watching the Spanish league is like watching Usain Bolt take on Oprah in a 100m sprint, where is the fun?? And yet its the most popular league in the world….. the mind boggles.
Bah, these banalities sicken me; the lack of decent football combined with the absence of meaningful work in the office is driving me up the wall. In other Arsenal related news, the financial facts and figures are in and it looks like the chief is sitting on a giant pile of gold. A few optimistic bloggers and fans are hoping that Wenger will “break the bank” and spend a bit of that green and a few others have gone on to start rumors claiming divine knowledge from those glorious un-named souls ITK (In The Know, apparently). A few transfer links and rumors are realistic, while most are improbable but there are some that just make me want to bang my head on the wall over and over and over (Gotze & Falcao)…. Well you get the picture.
Many of the lads were out playing pointless games and luckily haven’t sustained any serious damage but the fatigue will carry over slightly nonetheless. By looks of it Mert will be a rather miffed after conceding four against (yes FOUR!!!) and Giroud will be flying high after that neat header that held Spain to a draw. A fellow goon reckons that his performance will be enough to convince Wenger to pick him for the starting XI in our upcoming game against those chaps clad in a color I like to call “Blinding-yellow”.
Enough international guff, Let ship out to calmer waters and talk about the upcoming game at Carrow road. Last time over the Canaries were the ones who rattled OUR cages, but the talented Mr. Lambert is no longer with them and I foresee less of a problem, provided we make no ridiculous errors that we are now rather famous for. Chris Hughton can be a canny customer, his tactics while not spectacular are efficient and he’ll look to employ the usual strategy that most team choose while facing Wenger : Sit deep, soak up pressure from the middle while Grant Holt (whom I rather like) lurks upstream looking for the chinks in the armor that tend to get exposed as we start looking to kill the game in the final third. Our midfield dominance is most certainly assured but underestimating the yellows will be folly. They have a few dangerous buggers in the form of Hoolahan and Holt. The latter is no striker extraordinaire, but his combination of bulk and lethal finishing will make him a tricky customer. I expect that the gaffer will have a quiet word with the BFG regarding cutting the big forward off from his supply by some clever positioning and a bit of man marking. While there is no doubt that Koscielny is the best “man-marker”, he has a tendency of getting knocked for a loop by more physical forwards, his struggles against Drogba and such are a testament to the fact.
While you lot have sitting there and nodding sagely at the screen, I have run out of things to babble about. So how about you drop a few lines in the comments section and provide some inspiration eh? Just remember, comments are like sex: the dirtier, the better!!!