Mark Randall, making the Brentwood swoosh mullet world famous
It’s Saturday, you don’t deserve another post about players we’ve nearly signed. According to reports, the Alvarez deal looks as good as done. That’s absolutely marvo, thanks to Pam for letting us know that deal was still on. The Sun are saying he’s the new Cesc, I’d disagree, he’s tall, direct and pretty strong. He’s the new Alvarez.
Nasri has been encouraged by our nearly moves in the window thus far, so he’s coming back to the table, possibly to negotiate a new deal over a delicious Nando’s. That’s how I’d broker deals if I was Gazidis, grilled chicken is the key to most young mens hearts. The sooner he learns that, the sooner we start performing with contract rebels.
Mark ‘the parting’ Randall finally secured a club worthy of his immense talents. Chesterfield agreed to match the wages on offer at the Richmond branch of PC World. Mark stated, ‘although I’ve lost out on my friends and family 12.5% discount card, I am determined to make this move work.’ Good on ya Mark, buying graphics cards won’t be the same without you.
Finally, Chris Samba has told Blackburn he doesn’t want to play for a crap northern club anymore. My recommendations for negotiating with him would be not to do it over a Nando’s. He’s probably had it up to his eyeballs with chickens. Just offer him a bunk next to JD and a contract fit for a king. He’ll be fine.
Right, now for a very sweet, heart warming guest post from Craig over at J4Goalposts. If you’ve got a top-notch guest post you’d like to share out over the summer months, or you’d like me to back link your site, send over a link, I’ll take a look and see what I can do! We don’t do enough with the wider blogging community, so if you’re a start-up and you need a wider audience, let me know using the contacts form!
Away days…
Like many of you this season, I too have spent hours in depression over the complete heap of crap that has been our 2010-2011 campaign. Hell, we lost the Carling Cup Final the day before my birthday and to make it worse, the day after whilst at work, on my birthday, I had the pleasure of bumping into a Brummy. As if my own team couldn’t anger me enough, fate had to bring me face to face with a Birmingham fan. Getting to the point now; it’s been a bit of a roller coaster season. One minute we were beating Barcelona, only to draw with Leyton Orient in the next.
There has been little to cherish from a season which teased us into believing we’d do something, that we’d finally win a trophy.
What I have cherished from this season though, is taking my younger brother to away games for the first time and with seeing his delight at merely getting tickets to a hole like Wigan, for me, brought back the innocence of believing Arsenal FC could do no wrong, we had the best players, the best manager and were the best in the world. I’ve obviously been to away games before but that’s been with my with mates, seeing the game through Corona eyes, sharing each others cynicism. There’s something about seeing a game through the eyes of a younger lad which is refreshing and as I sit with an Arsenal FC branded mug of tea, I will share with you my favourite trips from this season.
Newcastle United 0-4 Arsenal
This was my younger brother’s first ever away game, also the only game which he has a clear memory of, so for the both of us it was a very special evening. With it being his first ever game (of clear memory) I wanted it to be a surprise, so buying the tickets a month or so beforehand, I somehow managed to keep quiet till the day before the game, where I revealed the tickets to him. It was at this point his eyes lit up, he jumped up and down, hugged me and then spent the next few hours watching the ‘Unbeaten Run’ on DVD. His excitement at going to see a game stirred something inside me I hadn’t felt for years; a genuine buzz about seeing the greatest team in the world. Maybe years of disappointment had blunted me but I know at that moment, I was as excited as he was.
The game itself was obviously a pleasure, winning 4-0, though I was incredibly worried when I saw Eastmond and Denilson take to the midfield. That was also the night Denilson thought it’d be cool to sport braids in his hair, he looked like Monica off of Friends. Thankfully, they weren’t too bad! Rosicky had a bright game, looking typically classy with no end product, while Theo had yet to really make himself heard in the first half. Somehow, on the stroke of half-time, we got a goal, barely deserved in my opinion, but I wasn’t going to contest it. Originally I thought it was Bendtner who’d scored, with the crowd even singing his name, though it turned out to be a Krul own goal.
Both of Walcott’s goals were well taken, his second in particular but it was Bendtner’s strike in particular which made the night. Fed in by Fabregas, Bendtner found himself approaching the goal at an angle, ignoring Fabregas who had positioned himself in good space, about eleven yards out from goal. Bendtner shaped up to hit it (I originally thought it would hit a fisherman in the Tyne) and sent it into the top left hand corner of Krul’s goal. We’ve all seen goals far better but scored in the 82nd minute, it was game over for Newcastle and the point at which I turned to my brother, whose face was ready to explode through happiness, he looked as if he could burst into tears, or alternatively back-flip the perimeter of the stadium. He’d seen a great goal, Arsenal were going to win and he’d seen it with his own eyes, a magical moment. This prompted him into singing ‘Only one Nicky Bendtner’. Never mind the fact he’d done nothing all game but he’d scored the third and for my brother, that was enough, ‘sod the rest of his game, he just scored’. He even got to sing, “Joey Barton, what a wanker, what a wanker!” His ultimate dream made.
That night, after the final whistle, Eboue approached the crowd, (we were moved down a few tiers as Newcastle couldn’t sell the game out) kissing his badge. Ultimately, this cheered my brother even more, checking Eboue into his ‘Hero’ list. (Until we played Liverpool, where he, like Barton, became a wanker in the eyes of my brother)
A quick tip for anyone going to Newcastle next season – I’d advise parking in the MetroCentre and getting the Metro train from there to Newcastle station. The Metro car park never closes, there isn’t a toll, there’s no fine for matchday traffic (there isn’t any) and if, like we did, you get a taxi, then you’ll be back to your car within fifteen minutes of the game ending and another five minutes from being on the motorway once you leave the car park.
Wigan Athletic 2-2 Arsenal
This was the night we nearly died for the cause. If you remember, this match was played on December 29th, when there was a horrible, thick fog causing havoc. Now, my car was in the garage, my mate’s car was also having troubles, so by good grace of God, my dear old Mum took us to the game. Cutting through the Cat & Fiddle (also known as the A537, though the name of the pub gives the pass it’s name. It’s also the second highest Inn in England) we could barely see for the fog, having to travel at 15MPH, there was even a nagging thought we’d have to turn back for our safety but plough on we did and dropping down into Macclesfield, we all allowed ourselves an involuntary sigh of relief as the fog lifted.
I’m not talking about the game in detail as the image of Squillaci’s own goal still angers me. There were still moments to cherish from a life threatening trip to Wigan, such as my brother’s swearing getting progessively worse, calling N’Zogbia all names under the sun after his headbutt on Jack Wilshere. We came away from that game with a 2-2 draw, a horrible anti-climax after having beaten Chelsea two days previous, yet my brother still managed to pick out the positives, saying we’d have hammered them if N’Zogbia had stayed on, as they were spurred on by his sending off, my brother claimed. A somewhat outrageous claim since we were woeful that evening but still, he refused to believe Arsenal were at fault, he was still happy he’d seen his heroes play.
Okay, so not the greatest night but he still claims it to be the night he risked his life on the Cat and Fiddle for Arsenal. We also brought my Mum a bottle of wine for her troubles.
Manchester United 2-0 Arsenal
We’d lost the Carling Cup Final, lost to Barcelona and faced Manchester United in the FA Cup. It was a bad time to be an Arsenal fan, though everyone was still full of optimism.
That optimism was duly mis-placed as we lost despite, as usual, dominating the game. We never looked like scoring, Rosicky rubber-stamping that with an air-shot from three yards out. The reason I loved this trip was down to one thing; the rest of the fans. I think we took around eight or nine thousand for the game I’m not sure, I just know we were rammed and made Old Trafford feel like the Emirates. My favourite moment, a moment which sent chills down my spine, was when in around the 85th minute, Man United fans declared, “You’re gonna win fuck all!” to which we responded with this, for ten minutes solid…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TSQl_0MKvAo
It was an incredible feeling, everybody singing a loud ‘fuck you’ to Old Trafford and definitely something the players needed to happen at that stage for a little lift. Jack Wilshere in particular was grateful for such support, spending three of four minutes after the other players had gone down the tunnel to stand and applaud the Arsenal fans. Two days later, my brother used his hard earned paper round money to buy himself another Arsenal home shirt, just to put Wilshere on the back of his shirt. That one moment meant the world to my brother and though we lost, the feeling of everybody sticking their middle finger up to Old Trafford gave us a sense of satisfaction.
I find it also worth noting that Almunia’s display in the midweek against Barcelona merited a standing ovation from the fans as he entered the pitch to start his warm-up.
Bolton Wanderers 2-1 Arsenal
This was maybe the most frustrating day of the season, a day that summed up our season.
To start proceedings off, my satnav decided to croak it just outside of Stockport, (my own fault as I forgot to take the charger) meaning me previously unused Geography grades were going to be put to the test in the form of map-reading. Thankfully, Stockport is well sign-posted and I knew where I needed to be on the motorway and I knew that once I got on the ring road around Manchester, I just needed to remember my junctions.
Unfortunately for me, having Google-mapped Bolton’s stadium, I thought it was Junction 5 I needed to exit for the stadium, though if I’d bothered to look properly, I’d have known that Bolton’s ground is instead based in Horwich, not Bolton and I in fact needed Junction 6. Informing my brother were about to turn the corner to see Bolton’s stadium as I left the motorway, I passed under the motorway bridge to see myself looking at houses and a few garages. I had major egg on my face and so, using instinct, I took my first left, which I have since found out to be called Beaumont Road. I went up and down this road several times, even cutting into one of the housing estates where I found a railway station, which proved useless in searching for people to ask for directions. I managed to get back off the housing estate onto Beaumont Road (for the 5th time) and took my left to the junction up the the road, where I turned left again, which took me onto New Chorley Road. New Chorley Road is very, very long and it feels as if you’re going nowhere so getting fed up with this, I turned back and headed for Bolton Town Centre in a bid to find clear sign posts for clues, still not knowing I needed to be in Horwich.
It was in Bolton Town Centre I found the love of my life; a middle aged, ginger traffic warden who told directed me back onto New Chorley Road, informing me I needed to be on there and to just carry on. For what it’s worth, I would have mounted here there and then if it wasn’t so a minor in the car, I was so pleased for that information.
We went on to lose thanks to the forehead of Tamir Cohen (now released by Bolton) and more slack defending from set pieces. It was also the day I felt sick to my stomach when at the final whistle, we didn’t boo, but merely ‘accepted’ the defeat, with the majority of fans applauding the players, I was baying for blood, not able to accept the defeat. It had been a strange atmosphere all game, with both sets of fans not really at their best.
Just to note, that Lehmann attempted a Rooney-esque overhead kick in the warm-up when testing Szczesny. It did anything but tested our tall Pole, instead, Lehmann scythed the ball, sending it flying. It drew a round of applause and a lot of laughs from all fans who saw it, Bolton and Arsenal. Amazing stuff from a man of his age.
Sorry for all the reading you’ve had to, but I feel it important at a time when the end of season is upon us, where it feels like a horrible hangover, to remind ourselves of why we do stupid things like drive in awful conditions, get lost in Bolton and give Almunia standing ovations. For me, this season has provided moments of sheer magic in terms of reminding why I love the club. I hope reading this gives you the same buzz I felt when I saw my brother’s reaction when he learnt he was going to Newcastle to see Arsenal.
COME ON ARSENAL!!
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Geoff
Le Grove is now smart phone compatible!
