Hey Ho! Have you chaps ever noticed that it’s always a beautiful day after Arsenal wins? The grass seems greener, the bird-song sweeter, the hawkers friendlier, the cows moo-er and the kids next door less interested in desecrating my ear drums. Hell, even the thought of encountering my boss on Monday morning doesn’t cause mad rages and thoughts of drowning puppies & slaughtering bunnies with a chain-saw.
And when your team are the harbingers of humiliation & gruesome destruction on sworn enemies, well, it’s even better, think: binge drinking session with Gandalf (Grey not the White), Dennis Bergkamp, Charles Bukowski, Nikolas Telsa, Woody Allen, Rahul Dravid and David Gilmour. Well you get the idea.
As usual, this blog will NOT be a detailed match report; atleast not in the conventional, chronological fashion. You’ll have to wait for the talented Mr. Kini to deliver on that front. This will just be a compilation of my disjointed thoughts, random observations, bad puns, vituperative rants against Spurs and generally any drivel that passes through my skull on match-day. So carry on!
I’ll start off with: Adebayor…ha ha (imagine that in his voice)!!!! The arrogant little t**t got precisely what he deserved. The man’s evident talent is matched only by his sheer arrogance and audacity. During the game a close (but United supporting) friend summed him up perfectly: “…He could have had the Gunning faithful genuflecting at his feet if only his pupils didn’t resemble a cash register..”
If yesterday’s match proved one thing, it’s that Webb hates Adebayor more than he hates the Arsenal and almost as much as the gooning faithful hates Greedebayor himself. Interesting circle of hate eh? Don’t believe me?-
Number of career red-cards Adebayor has received: 4
Number of red cards Howard Webb has given Adebayor: 3
That is not to say that the avaricious madman did not deserve what he got after that mad lunge on our precious play-maker. I was hoping that Webb would smack him on the head too, perhaps one of fellow gooners in London could oblige us.
Next up, it’s our right winger, wannabe central striker and
favourite contract rebel: Theodore Walcott. What can I say? The man was immense, he is turning into a lethal force on the right wing and his performances this season have just been getting better and better. Full disclosure now: friends and fellow gooners will probably know that after a few years of being highly pro-Theo right until last season when the very sight of him in red and white and his constant demands of wanting to be deployed as a centre forward irked me to no end. I reasoned that he had spent SEVEN years under one of the best harvesters of talent in the world and yet struggled with the simplest of dribbles or balked at every mildly physical defender. However, this season, the lad has taken it upon himself to force-feed me giant servings of humble pie….repeatedly!
Theo has recently starting following what I like to call the “Antonio Valencia path” to wing-play and football. It involves delivering spectacular results on the right wing through decent pace and few underwhelming cuts and turns. Unspectacular wing-play that delivers results by the truck-load! Don’t get me wrong, Theo isn’t there as yet, the United man is one of the most consistent and effective wingers in the league. He may lack the flare or the ability to produce dazzling Elasticos or devastating step-overs to hoodwink defenders, but he can be relied on for a supply of accurate crosses through the ninety minutes and is more than decent at linking up with the full-backs. On the whole, if Theo is capable of playing this level on a permanent basis, I really do hope that Wenger breaks his stringent policies to keep him at the club.
The midfield too was brilliant and made the most of a Spurs implosion. Their hilarious collapse was more to do with perception and morale of the team rather than anything else. Losing a forward doesn’t hamstring the defence does it? It’s all in the head, or not.
The shoulders drooped and Defoe’s once (somewhat) intelligent runs descended into drunken meandering across the pitch. The only player who showed some semblance of guts and “mental fortitude” (Hello Arsene!) was Bale and he was rewarded with a well taken goal after a few dangerous runs. Cathola was back to his dexterous best, creating chances and terrifying a clueless Spurs defence who were sapped of all morale and were woefully bereft of leadership. Our attacks tended to lean onto the right side a little bit, a testament to the synergy between Sagna and Wally. Poldi too was rewarded with a goal with a smidgeon of luck as the ball deflected off a rattled Gallas. Call it poetic justice for Saha’s goal last time around!
The difference in Poldi’s movement (off the ball) on the left flank was worth noting, instead of running along the outer periphery of the pitch the German looked to move into channels in the Spur’s defence and midfield. This is in stark contrast to Wally’s on the opposite. Mert picked the PERfect time to open his account at Arsenal with a Sagna-ish(again an allusion to our previous fixture) header that started our devastating come back.
Right then, we are done with the positives, brace yourself for the negatives. Firstly, our defence was rather poor. Our performance in the opening minutes was shaky, new born fawn shaky. While the Spurs started off brightly with plenty of energy, Per and the crew looked lethargic and almost befuddled by the pace of the opposition’s frontmen. The play that resulted in the first goal highlighted how strangely disorganized each individual defender was. Sagna rushed forward early on, eager to school the Spuds in the ways of the wing, unfortunately his absence he left a gaping hole that CB’s should have closed down, Mert too was grazing in the midfield and had to run to make the yard, well, it’s the BFG….RUNNING?!! It was never going to end well. The captain didn’t cover himself in glory on the left side either. Gibbs’s eminent return should result in a nice long rest for the Verm who needs to rediscover his form and fight his way back into the CB pairing. No mean feat considering that Kos and Mert won’t be relenting any time soon.
Secondly, our defence suffered at the hands of Bale, who used his pace to torment us. During our last encounter, Sagna humiliated the Welshman and silenced his critics in style but this time, it didn’t go too well. The strategy of holding back and denying possession (that Sagna employed last time around) on the wings was forgotten and the winger made the most of it. I wonder how the game would have turned out had Greedabayor played like a gentleman (That really cracked me up too!). My guess is that we would have taken home the three points, but with more of a struggle. Lyrics from “Sweating Bullets” seems strangely appropriate:
“Hindsight is always 20-20
Looking back it’s still a bit fuzzy…“
It was a good game all in all and schooling the Spuds in footie never gets old…. Enjoy what remains of your Sunday as Monday inexorably rolls towards you like a pissed off cyborg panda(with wheels for legs of course)!
P.S If you were wondering about the weird title, it’s just my obnoxious non-gangsta way of saying: Who’s your daddy?!!