I hurled insults, epithets, and missiles

I have been watching Arsenal matches on television (I'm a Yank and since 2002 have had little in the way of a travel budget) since the 2000 Uefa Cup final versus Galatasary.  Little did I know that that match would come to epitomise the vast majority of my Arsenal watching.  It was excruciatingly painful and not something I ever wish to repeat. It concluded with a group of very overly-demonstrative Turks jumping on tables in a pub in Atlanta, Georgia, screaming and shouting, and a group of Arsenal supporters (almost entirely English ex-patriots segregated quite purposefully from the Turks, need I say why?) staring at the screen in disbelief after a fruitless penalty shootout.

13 years ago there were very few ways to watch Europaean football in the USA. 13 years ago, Uefa scheduled tournament finals in mid-week during the afternoon in the USA because nobody in Europe thought anybody in this hemisphere gave a shit about those tournaments. 13 years ago, ESPN did not televise various Uefa association club matches, nor international tournaments, nor friendlies, and such a thing as "Fox Soccer Channel" did not yet exist.

But 13 years ago, Arsenal contrived to lose a match they should have won.

Fast-forward 13 years and you find one of the "Big 4" American networks paying an outrageous sum of money to the Premier League for the right to televise EVERY SINGLE LEAGUE MATCH FOR AN ENTIRE SEASON. There are such things as "GolTV," "BeinSport," and of course some leftover version of "Fox Soccer Channel" that still shows matches. Thierry Henry has been plying his trade in the USA for years now.  David Beckham did the same. Players from the States have been let loose all over Europe.

All across the 50 states and probably some territories as well, bars and pubs have established large and loyal customer bases by advertising themselves as "soccer bars" which will open at obscenely early hours to cater to an now almost-exclusively native population that has grown from fractional and marginal to a group with considerable buying power.

What has caused this explosion?  I have my ideas but that's going to wait for another blog entry. 

Today is to recall that day over 13 years ago when I literally thought there was going to be blood shed at the end of an Arsenal match between Englishmen and Turks. And how during the Arsenal v. Aston Villa match on Saturday, I literally thought there was going to be blood shed between...two groups of Yanks.

So it has come to this, eh?  "Down at my local," the Arsenal supporters group is well-known as the largest, most loyal, and most respectful of all the club fans. We are the ones who bought drinks for the old Birmingham City supporter after the League Cup final as he shed joyous tears and said "I've never seen my club win anything before!" 

So on opening day, a group of "Liverpool Supporters" (we'd never seen them in the bar before), a Man City "supporter," (sure, he bleeds sky blue and would be doing so if they'd never won a thing!) and a Fulham "supporter" decided that it was far more important to antagonise the Arsenal group than anything else they could do that day--and went about accomplishing this by loudly cheering when Arsenal players were either injured (Gibbs) or appeared to be so (Sagna) or had the shite kicked out of them (Wilshere, Ramsey, Ox, etc.). These cunts stayed at the bar for that express purpose.

My, how popular the sport has become here.

I'd like to thank Arsene Wenger and the club for taking what used to be a very pleasant past time and getaway from my regular life, something I've been following since 1996, and turning it into one of the most unpleasant experiences I've ever had watching any sporting event.  Thank you.  You've ruined the club and by extension soured the experience of millions of us on this side of the Atlantic who have little hope of ever seeing the Arsenal in person (since you also refuse to tour the United States, which I assume is yet another example of one of your peculiar prejudices, like spending money or playing sound defence).

I've made many good friends through being associated with the club. We enjoy each others' company, and generally I've found Arsenal supporters in the USA to be educated, humourous, and well-spoken.  We use the matches as an opportunity to get together, share a pint or two, and have a day (or morning) out.

After Saturday, I sincerely don't want to do that anymore.  I don't care to pay for the privilege of wondering which tosser at the end of the bar is going to kick my head in. I don't care to spend more time during the matches fighting with "third party" supporters who didn't even lift a finger to insult anything during the MUFC match that followed ours. Arsenal are shit, they play like shit, and they invite this kind of behaviour through their shit play and shit behaviour in the transfer market and childish "40,000,001" quid bids and stupid talk of "spirit, quality, belief, determination" and whatever other shit handbrake nonsense that "our" manager spouts.

I have nothing else to say about the match. It sucked whale cock. The end. 

Proximity...by nellypop

Welcome back our contributing writer nellypop with some off-season musings that ought to be of particular interest to those of us on this side of the Atlantic. 

There’s a famous saying that goes along the lines of “the grass is always greener on the other side.” In recent times the Arsenal fan base has found itself divided along many lines, from who we should sign to whether we should hand Arsène his P45. One thing that regularly invites discussion (or argument, depending on who you are speaking to) is whether you are a more loyal and committed fan if you live overseas or within a stone’s throw of the Emirates. Or indeed, who suffers more to follow their team.

For some perspective from the outset, I should probably establish that I live in England, just north of London, with a match day journey time of around 45 minutes. I am about to begin my third year as a season ticket holder. And I live with a Sp*rs fan.

Many of my online acquaintances follow Arsenal from thousands of miles and many time zones away, and this brings with it challenges. Matches may not be televised, they may kick-off at 2am, and for every day, minute and hour committed to watching the boys in red-and-white on screens of varying sizes, these dedicated fans may never see them in the flesh. A lucky few can afford to fly in for one, two, three games a season, at a cost equivalent to that which I pay for a full 26 games a season. More likely, the only opportunity to watch this Arsenal team is a pre-season tour in a mock-competitive environment or a showpiece friendly. For some perspective, the last time Arsenal visited our many millions of fans in the US was for a solitary game in 1972.

However, the main focus of this article is to look at the perils of living in close proximity to so many Tottnumb supporters.

I am the first to admit that I am extraordinarily fortunate to have a season ticket (borrowed, since I am around 25,000th on the waiting list) which allows me a guaranteed seat at every home game, and priority for various away fixtures. I’m still new enough to the match day experience that every time I cross the Ken Friar bridge, every time I step out into the stand before a game, and every time the boys come out of the tunnel after a fanfare of dramatic music, I still get an adrenaline rush as if it were that first game. (Highbury, 15 February 2004, FA Cup 5th Round, Arsenal 2-1 Chelsea, Mutu (39), Reyes (56), Reyes (61) if you were wondering.)

And then there are the community moments – the child on the tube who exclaims, “Look daddy, that lady is going to see Arsenal too” [as an aside, when did I stop being a girl?!], the hug-a-stranger games when sheer delight permeates the whole stadium, and the journey home, where a look at your shirt and your face prompts random travellers to ask the final result or who scored.

However, there is a price I pay just like many other London-local fans, in a more extreme form than you will find anywhere else on the planet. In the street, at work, and (worst of all) at home, I am surrounded by people who proclaim ardent support for the little club up the road. Of course, over the year, this works out generally in our favour, with more gleeful moments than humiliating ones. But, when you consider that the last year without a St. Totteringham’s Day was the 94/95 season, the goalposts are rather different for each team – simply finishing above is no longer a measure of success – annihilation has to be the aim.

While debate will rage as to what league position this Arsenal team has aspired to for the last few years, there is little doubt that each season for Tottnumb begins with a big red laser sight on our backs – their number one target. The media get suckered in by articles such as this http://www.guardian.co.uk/football/2011/oct/31/rafael-van-der-vaart-arsenal-spurs, this http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/football/teams/tottenham-hotspur/9098731/Tottenham-striker-Jermain-Defoe-says-Sundays-north-London-derby-is-more-important-for-Arsenal.html and this http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sport/football/article-2283567/Gareth-Bale-says-Tottenham-better-Arsenal.html, and we end up facing another season of vicious penmanship. No one likes a bully, after all. With Tottenham cast as the plucky David, let Arsenal ever be considered as Goliath, for it will mean that they remain in our shadow. Goody-two-shoes Arsenal, with the self-sufficient business plan and international footprint are an easy target for the press, and means that allegations of media bias are not entirely unfounded.

For those abroad, there are a minority of Sp*rs fans who invade the peace, but given the following they have globally, they are a small nuisance compared to the carnage in the UK. Consider the irritation faced daily by those living within the M25: every dropped Arsenal point is a cause for a victory parade or a DVD, and every Tottnumb victory is heralded by a flurry of texts and Facebook messages to all known Arsenal fans along the lines of “COYS”. This is a club with such low expectations that overwhelming joy follows wins in the Carling Cup or draws against top-10 teams. Add in the Monday morning chirpiness following a successful weekend and you have a recipe for stressed Gooners. The best word to describe the attitude of Sp*rs fans is “desperate."

Slightly more unusual is the situation I find myself in, cohabiting with “one of them." This has logistical challenges, such as always being out on opposing weekends, due to the fixture fiddling which means our teams alternate home games. More challenging, though, is the fact that a good result for one is generally a bad result for the other, leading to mismatched happiness or desolation – for example, returning home after the 5-2 or the final game of the season and having to contain my glee, or alternatively following the reverse North London Derby, having to face his delight in the midst of my despondency. Luckily, my moods are far more dictated by the Arsenal than his are by Sp*rs, but even so, I’ve resorted to moderating my emotions by putting Gareth Bale in my fantasy team to ensure that if Sp*rs do have a good result, at least there will be a silver lining, however thin. Arsenal’s motto may be “Victory through Harmony," but in my household there is very little Harmony through Victory.

The here and now is just about bearable, since the rest of my family are fervent Arsenal fans, but it’s the future that concerns me. I’ve already had a word with my dad to ensure that the next generation of prospective Arsenal fans will be gifted mini-kits and indoctrinated before they are old enough to walk, and more importantly, before anything can go wrong. After all, I wouldn’t wish Tottenham support on anyone.

So while we should remember that our overseas fans give so much time, money and dedication to the Arsenal cause, we also have to remember that in fact the grass is not always greener on the other side. In my own way I, like so many Arsenal fans local to N5, go through hell and back for my club to ensure that the strong roots of Arsenal support are cultivated to pull through the wilderness of Sp*rs fandom. We wouldn’t have it any other way.

You can follow me on Twitter @nellypop13. #NorthLondonIsRed

ITK, IDK...IDGAF, so STFU!

What is this phenomenon we see thanks to the ubiquity of twitter?  twitter has created a two-headed monster.  One head claims to know everything, or hints to know everything, or hints to know something. The other head does nothing but oppose the first while proudly claiming to know nothing at all.

At this point in the nascent 2013 summer transfer epic, Arsenal have done f*** all. It's early yet, right?  Or is it?  Is it actually mid-game?  Is it late?  Is it all over already?

But this isn't about Arsenal's transfers.  Why?  Because, while I am neither head one nor head two, I really don't know anything at all about Arsenal's business. It's not a match where I can sit and cheer for someone, so it doesn't really captivate my interest. And even if I did "know something" today, it wouldn't be worth a damned thing until the actual moment Arsenal announce the player is signed or sold.

What I find amusing is that with the advent of twitter, some people are able to purport to be "in the know" and derive some bizarre thrill in setting the world (literally the world of football, from twitter to "proper journos") ablaze by claiming special knowledge about a particular manouever. This is funny.  Before twitter, how could any regular Joe or Jill do such a thing?  We all knew the tosser sitting at the end of the bar in the pub, talking out his hole about how we should just wait and see the big signing on the way. That was his twitter. His blather probably never found its way onto the BBC.

Yet, in the face of such nonsensical pronouncements now finding footing among the world of proper reportage, a new group has arisen. These people fancy themselves the guardians of credible information.  They don't actually HAVE any of that information, they're just keeping watch in case something incredible comes along. These brave souls stand atop the barricades they've assembled and point defiantly at every rumour-peddler: "You!" they shout. "You there!  STOP SAYING YOU KNOW ANYTHING!  YOU CAN'T KNOW ANYTHING! NOBODY KNOWS ANYTHING! QUITE LITERALLY NOBODY ANYWHERE HAS ANY KNOWLEDGE OF ANYTHING AT ALL!  AND I WILL EXPOSE YOU AS THE FRAUD THAT YOU ARE!"  And on, and on, and on it goes. Since these gallant few don't have the inside information, they KNOW one thing: that nobody else can have any either!

These are the people that really amuse me more than the "ITK" types. They will painstakingly deconstruct every rumour and end it with "until the player is signed, nobody knows anything."  My question is, since you admit you know nothing, how do you actually know who knows something?  How do you KNOW that John Cross absolutely doesn't know something?  I particularly like "Everything in the paper is fiction."  Really?

So instead of being an "ITK" about some juicy bit of transfer minutiae, what they're really saying is that they're "ITK" about what's NOT true, that they have the inside information about how wrong John Cross is.  How they know this, I don't know. So who knows?  And how does this make the denouncer any more credible than the one he's denouncing?  You don't know who John Cross or anybody else talks to, so my advice to you would be to shut your self-righteous holes.

Here's my suggestion: Ignore the rumour-peddlers, ignore those spending time denouncing them, and have a cold beverage. It's going to be a very warm summer.  I'm lucky enough to have cricket to keep me distracted. Thankfully there's no ICC transfer window. But I did hear an interesting rumour about a certain spin bowler...just follow me on twitter for all the latest...
 

Never Say Never...by nellypop

(As my plans to turn this blog into a global media empire are moving forward, I've brought in my first contributor. You can call her nellypop. She's from England and she's an Arsenal season ticket holder so she should have more credibility than I do.  I've known her--virtually--for a few years and I think she's an excellent writer.  By way of introduction, I asked her for two Arsenal facts--favourite player and favourite Arsenal moment and her responses were "Cesc Fabregas and the first of our 5-2 victories over 'them'" but she asked me not to say Cesc because it would spoil the objectivity of the following post. Sorry, no need to self-censor for the sake of objectivity here. So without further ado, here's phase II of this blog, presented without commercial interruption for your edification.)

I’ve known Trey a while, and more often than not we share similar viewpoints on all things Arsenal. However, I couldn’t let his rather strong diatribe on Cesc Fabregas go unanswered, if only to restore an element of balance to the Gooner universe.

I should start by saying that this is not the first time I’ve written about our former captain since he decided to depart for pastures Nou. Indeed, my views are on record and can be read here. The gist of my argument, though, was that my biggest issue with Fabregas’ departure was timing rather than anything else, with Xavi and Iniesta still at the top of their game, and a much larger role still on offer at Arsenal.

He made 212 senior appearances for the club, in an 8 year period during which he led us to the Champions League final and single-handedly hauled us through many a game. In all that time, he never made any pretence that Barcelona was not a dream of his. Trey may argue that his behaviour has been worse than others such as the Dutch Skunk, but ultimately we all understand why he wanted to go play for the hometown club he supported as a boy, not to mention the greatest team in the world (at the time).

The little boy inside...

Van Persie, on the other hand, supported Arsenal as a child and issued a statement in February 2011 saying: “I know you can win trophies in many countries and in many ways, but I want to do that in our way and in an Arsenal shirt. I'm sure I could win things at another team in another country, but would it feel like our trophy, my trophy? I'm not sure it would. Anything we win here will come from the heart and that's what I want.” For me personally, while it hurts that he wanted to leave, the real kick in the face is the barefaced lies that accompanied the whole masquerade. Fabregas may not have been perfect, but at least he was honest. We only have ourselves to blame if we put our fingers in our ears and screamed “la la la” at the tops of our voices, and I fully count myself as one of that number. Van Persie left either for money or for glory (a trait that is much derided in fans), whereas Fabregas left to play for his hometown club. I know which I think is a better reason.

Of course, the typical argument levelled at Fabregas is that he drove down the price paid for him, in a market where Fernando Torres was worth £50m and Andy Carroll £35m. And to confirm this, since he moved in 2011, Fabregas has scored more league goals than both, before we even consider his contribution in terms of assists and so on. There is little doubt that he was ultimately sold for less than his true value, because he only wanted to go to one club.

What you have to factor into this argument, though, is that a player is only worth what the market is prepared to pay for him, and in this case it was a market of one. And the reason for this singular market was that although Barcelona was his first love, Arsenal come a very close second and Fabregas was not leaving because he was done with us. He was leaving because his team were coming calling. I think we can all understand that, even though we don’t like it, because I don’t think for one moment that a single one of us would turn down the opportunity to play for the Arsenal if it arose. For this reason, I don’t think we can blame him for leaving, or for the fact that his price was lower than if benchmarked against players of a similar (lesser!) quality.

We have to remember that Fabregas was contracted to Arsenal until 2015, and Arsène and the board did not have to agree to the sale. If they considered the amount was insufficient, they could have simply hunkered down and benefit from Fabregas’ talent for an additional year. Bearing in mind this was two years ago, I would suggest that with no end to the austerity due we likely felt that we could do with the money, and there was probably an element of negotiation having gone on behind closed doors between Fabregas and the powers that be for a few seasons prior.

We took a route through the initial stadium belt-tightening that relied on developing players and hanging on to them as long as possible to sustain our aspiration to qualify for the Champions League. It doesn’t take a huge leap to imagine that Fabregas remained a year or longer than he would have preferred following persuasion from Arsène. Indeed, we know that Barcelona were tabling bids in 2010 to no avail, and with his last three season yielding just 22, 27 and 25 league appearances, suspicions about his resilience to injury were emerging. Ultimately it was Arsenal’s decision to sell, at whatever price, and the decision was made that the move made sense. For this reason, I take issue with the criticism of Fabregas for the timing of his departure, because there is no possibility that Arsenal did not see it coming. None whatsoever.

Of course we can sit here and say he was ungrateful for the development we put into him, but equally we cannot act as if we as a club got nothing from the arrangement. In the changing world of football where money trumps all, frankly I respect the fact that there are only two clubs that Fabregas will ever play for.

It must be love...

For me, this is the key to why I would welcome Fabregas back with open arms, should he choose to return, and also perhaps why the club still have his image and name on a banner on the Ken Friar bridge I cross every match day. Arsenal may be his second love, but that’s still much higher than most players in the modern game. It doesn’t mean he didn’t care when he played for us, just as it doesn’t mean that Theo Walcott of Liverpool fandom, or Jack Wilshere of West Ham support don’t care. Indeed, in many ways it is harder for the Walcotts and Wilsheres, whose first team actually play in the same league, and who they must play against on occasion. We cannot hold our players to the same standards we would our fans – Carl Jenkinsons, with the talent and passion to play for Arsenal, are few and far between.

Trey, I love you, I respect you, but on this, I cannot agree with you. We may have Santi Cazorla now, but imagine having Cesc and Santi.

Truth is, Barcelona will only let him go if he asks, and he will only ask if Barcelona don’t want him, so it’s a vicious circle. A girl can dream though.

Follow the author on twitter: @nellypop13

...and don't let the door hit you in the arse...

(I hadn't intended to write this but some of the responses I've seen on twitter have forced my hand.)

I do not like Francesc Fabregas.

He is not a sporting hero of mine.

I'm baffled by the incredible double standard that Arsenal supporters are showing in their judgement of his actions versus those of other wantaway players. The only reason I can see is that these people simply want to believe that Fabregas is different. They dislike Van Persie, Nasri, Adebayor, etc., but they LOVE Fabregas. He is different. They want him back. He is special. The facts about him dare not contradict their magical thinking.

He rejected Arsenal and he voided the remaining years on his contract. He had signed an extension of terms with a pay rise that would keep him under contract at Arsenal until 2015. That's actually two years FROM NOW.

He had been made club captain (which I thought hilarious at the time because he had never been a leader) and given freedom on the pitch to flourish and become a great player.

My opinions are that he never would've become that player had he stayed at Barcelona because I do not believe he would've ever supplanted Xavi and Iniesta. He wouldn't have become a featured player for the Spanish national side. I don't think he would've become famous or appreciated on the world stage. And he certainly wouldn't have become the object of affection of so many millions of people who, despite his rejection, continue to pine away for him like a weepy teenaged girl.

The Arsenal Football Club is more important to me than individual players, and I do not take it lightly when players act in a way that damages the club. Fabregas' behaviour damaged the club.

1. He left the club before the end of his final season, his final game as club captain, while his teammates played out a draw at Fulham. He was once again injured at the time and showed his fellow players, manager, and most of all the Arsenal supporters, just where his priorities lay.
   
   
2. The timing of his manouever to break his contract left the club scrambling to fill the gap left by his departure. Despite his injury history, it must be said that as the focal point of the Arsenal attack he was not going to be easily replaced. During another of his injury absences in 2008, Arsene Wenger attempted to buy Mikel Arteta from Everton during the January transfer window. Fortunately Wenger was able to finally sign Arteta but not until after the 8-2 humiliation at Manchester United.
   
   
3. The most offensive part of this saga is not the rejection nor the hole left in the Arsenal midfield that would not be filled until the 2012-13 season. No, the most offensive was the fact that by deciding he would only be sold to one club on the face of the planet, Fabregas essentially stole at least 15 million pounds from Arsenal. The cut price of 35 million euros was “negotiated” (in the world outside of football it's more commonly called blackmail, not negotiation) at a time when players like Andy Carroll and Fernando Torres were going for almost double that amount. Arsenal gave Fabregas the opportunity to develop into what some were calling one of the best midfielders (when healthy) in the world. This was the way he repaid the club. And if you think that Arsenal don't need that 15 million quid, you haven't been paying much attention to their transfers lately.

I don't understand how Robin Van Persie can be reviled for his actions but Fabregas is loved to the point that I can sense rapturous tears in some people's tweets when verbally wanking themselves over the thought of the glorious son returning “home” to North London. Let's look at the facts: Van Persie played to within one season of his contract's expiration and had given the club time to bring in replacement players during the transfer window. He never stated that he would only go to one club, thus forcing Arsenal to sell him at a severely discounted price. And Arsenal were compensated fairly in the sale.

Is it disgusting to see Van Persie in that uniform? Yes. Do I want him back at Arsenal? No. Do I dislike him for what he did? Certainly. I'm a football supporter, not a newsreader or a member of a university philosophy department. It's not my job to be rational in my football support. I wanted him to stay at Arsenal and channel his desire to have lots of money win trophies there. But in the end he's just another classless mercenary footballer like all the rest of them.

I know most of my fellow Arsenal supporters feel similar antipathy toward Van Persie.

I just don't understand the embarrassing love-fest for Fabregas, whose behaviour was far worse and far more costly to Arsenal.

I would rather have made him see out the remaining years on his contract in the reserves than have him blackmail the club the way he did. It was disgraceful for everyone involved. And as far as I'm concerned, it still is. Nothing's changed.

Wait, one thing has changed.

We have Santi Cazorla now. That suits me just fine.

Arsene knows...except when he doesn't.

There is a reason this blog is called “The Existential Arsenalist.” You won't come here to read yet another in the hundreds of recounts of matches. I'm not here to match statistical analysis with 7amkickoff. I'm not privy to inside information.

If you read my writings on anything resembling a regular basis, you know that for me, every minute of every match of every season is nothing short of an existential crisis. It is very personal in nature, and as such is intended to be very subjective. Also, I'm watching from the USA, so I've less access to some things that those of you back in Blighty have as far as television coverage.

So enough with the exposition. Here's the premise of this entry: As we enter another transfer window, remember that Arsene knows, except when he doesn't, and when he doesn't know, look out, because he can miss by miles.

I'm not talking about missing with last minute stop-gap measures like Park or Squillaci. I'm talking about a particular vision for the club that Wenger had, a long-term building project that failed as miserably as any manager's efforts ever have.

The move to Ashburton Grove was designed to make Arsenal competitive with, at the time, England's “biggest” club. Petrodollars and oligarchs were topics reserved for the FT, not the FA. (See what I did there?) Decisions were made in the belief that the difference between Arsenal and their rival (there was really only one at that time) was matchday turnover. Gate receipts, if you will, limited how much money Arsenal could spend. That was true then.

Arsene saw a problem with the big picture before the move. He feared something very specific. I cannot find the exact quote, but I remember reading it. He said that he feared that Arsenal would become “like Ajax” after they moved to the Amsterdam ArenA. I specifically remember him saying “What good is a new stadium if you don't have any players in it?” or something similar. He was afraid that the debt from the building of the stadium would make it impossible to attract and pay top players.

Arsene Wenger was afraid. He saw a future bereft of talent at Arsenal, a half-empty Grove, a decline, a collapse, the end of the Arsenal Football Club. In his mind, if not manged very, very cautiously (and I say cautiously as opposed to carefully), the move to the new grounds would leave Arsenal not unlike Leeds United under Peter Ridsdale's stewardship. And THAT is something that AW simply could not abide.

Thus he began what would become known among some people as “The Project.” This is how I remember the project: Take all the players who made Arsenal great during the 8 or so years of his reign and sell them for whatever he can get, stockpiling their transfer money and more importantly, the savings from their wages. Having done that, part 2 of the project was to buy a bunch of players for less money and keep them on the books for lower wages, letting them “grow up” at Arsenal, love the club and each other, and at that magical moment when they all matured together, Arsenal would be the “modern superclub (groan).”

If you didn't follow Arsenal before the middle years of the naughts, you might not know just how miserable a failure “The Project” turned out to be.

I bring this up now not to flog Wenger with it—please, that's the last thing in the world I wish for the man. I bring it up because I've just heard more than one Gooner that I respect (and you know who are, Goonerholic) declare the 2012-2013 edition Arsene's “worst Arsenal side ever.”

Bollox. Excrement. Not even close. I mean that—literally not even CLOSE to the worst side Wenger ever sent out over the course of a season.

Because I watched the worst side Wenger ever sent out over the course of a season. And that season was the one which ended in the spring of 2009. And, if I may be so bold, it's the season which shows the brilliant failure of The Project.

(Note: for the purposes of this incredibly subjective blog, I am talking about the domestic league. I'm one of those antiquated fools who actually puts a priority on winning the league and thinks that's the true measure of a side.)

Don't get me wrong—that season was only one point worse than the one just completed. That season featured a 21-game unbeaten run (unbeaten, but god help us not untied, and “tied” is what we call a drawn match here in the USA).

I only really hate (did I say hate?) the memory of the 2008-09 season because I think it reflects just how massively AW got it wrong. Wenger put his faith in a group of players who completely, utterly, and miserably failed him, the club, themselves, and the supporters. And I'll guarantee you that to a man none of them give a holy shit that they did. Never before has there been assembled such a worthless, shiftless bunch of passengers in a side supposedly built for spirit and all that shit Wenger always says. And they're gone. Almost all of them are gone, just 4 years later. Has any other side undergone such a change in such a short time?

What a joke played on us. Adebayor, Bendtner, Nasri, Fabregas, Denilson, Arshavin, Eboue, Gallas, Song, Clichy, Vela, Hleb...thank you, Arsene. Thank you for showing us that you are human. Thank you for showing us that you can fail and do so in a spectacular fashion.

Look at that list of names.

Egomaniacs, wasters, crybabies, bottlers, clowns...and not one of them invested in the club. THAT lot was supposed to replace The Invincibles, remember.

Compared to the group that finished 2012-2013, what shocks me the most is just how utterly unprofessional their conduct was. How many of those players ended up agitating for a move away rather than honour their contracts and the agreements made between them and the manager? How many of them appeared to quit on the manager and the club? I'm not speaking about players who suffered major injuries and fought to come back from them here—that's clearly the antithesis of quitting (and thus I'm sparing Diaby and Rosicky).

I'd love to produce a 7amkickoff-style chart where the players are listed down one column, then across the top is each category of horrible character trait they displayed at Arsenal. Gallas—disrespectful, quitter. Bendtner—egomaniac, clown. Arshavin—lazy. I suppose Adebayor could win this competition with the most boxes ticked.

Not every player on the list was unprofessional, I'll offer. Clichy was just a poor defender who would consistently make a game-changing mistake. Eboue was a clown but you never got the feeling he didn't love Arsenal. I only include them on the list because they were both players that Wenger put his trust and faith in and they failed him.

This group of players seem to have done something drastic to Wenger's personality. With them, he persisted in playing them long after they had disgraced themselves with terrible performances or off-pitch nonsense. The worst among these was Denilson, Arsenal's ultimate passenger. His complete disregard for the game that was going around him used to make me scream and curse, and my dislike of him was only compounded by his “What, me worry?” Samba-boy Brazilian happiness no matter how utter shit he was or how many times Arsenal lost. He and Adebayor could be the poster children (emphasis on children) for this entire misguided era of Arsenal football—Denilson can do his little dance and Adebayor can grin like an idiot after he's flagged for offside for the 9^th time during a match.

The king of this miserable lot, the player who always “led by example,” was little Francesc Fabregas, little boy lost, the sad little boy who just couldn't honour his contract and had to run back home to sit on the bench at Barcelona. Poor little Cesc, his time at Arsenal was so miserable that his DNA wouldn't let him behave like a professional footballer. Can you imagine him crying into his little blue and red pillow every night? I can. The little boy.

I can imagine him being injured every time a big match came along. Remember, he never got to experience lifting a trophy except that he could have but he was injured for the Birmingham City match. Poor little captain. Pobre Capitanito.

Do you think poor little Cesc was bothered with leading or setting an example? He was such a great leader that he missed the final match of his Arsenal captaincy so that he could attend the Spanish Grand Prix in BARCELONA. Now that's an example, isn't it?

Do you think poor little Cesc was any better of a captain than Billy Big Time Gallas? I don't, because at the first asking, Poor Little Cesc, the homesick boy (who I guarantee you will end up plying his trade in Sunny Spanish Manchester) fucked Arsenal out of 15 million quid and forced (FORCED! Can you read that? HE FORCED ARSENAL TO SELL HIM AT A RIDICULOUS CUT RATE!) his club to sell him.

Adebayor. Bendtner. Nasri. Fabregas. Denilson. Clichy. Hleb.

Arsene knows. Except when he doesn't.

That last match of 2009 had a little bit of everything for that lost generation. Ryan Shawcross conceded a penalty. Go ahead, laugh a bit. Abou Diaby scored. Go ahead, laugh for about 20 minutes. Vito Mannone started at keeper. Eboue, Bendtner, and Vela (who replaced Arshavin, go ahead and cry and laugh and pull out your hair) all featured. Denilson stuck out a leg after being beaten, tripped Ricardo Fuller, and was booked as he conceded a penalty. I am not making that up.

2008-09 really began with Mathieu Flamini leaving for Milan. Flamini was a shit player who baffled at his continued inclusion in the side despite his utter crapness, until he had a decent run in central midfield and decided to cash in on that in a lovely bit of “Fuck you for sticking with me, Arsene Wenger!” (That would certainly become a trend.)

Lehmann was released. Gilberto was released. Vela was granted a work permit. Alas, poor Chip-arito, we knew him well. Nasri was bought from Marseille. Hleb left for Barca (and began forming a great impression, unfortunately for him that was the impression of his arse in a seat on the Barca substitutes bench). Poor Little Cesc was made captain in November after Billy Big Time, er, behaved like he always does, like a massive cunt. Arshavin is bought. Arsenal are destroyed by Manchester United, 4-1 on aggregate, in the Champions League. On the 8^th of May, Nicklas Bendtner is “fined for unacceptable behaviour” because he decided to consume massive quantities of booze and walk out of a nightclub after that MUFC match with his trousers around his ankles.

Adebayor decided to follow his previous season, where he scored 24 league goals, with 10, proving of course that he is a stupid grinning offside twat.

72 points. That's what this squad managed, despite a 21 match unbeaten run.

I'll take the 2012-13 version of Arsenal any day of the week over that lot. For the first time since the undertaking of “The Project,” I saw an Arsenal side made up of professional players led by a manager who was in no mood for nonsense (if Santos' fate is any example). At every position, it seemed that the rot had finally been cut out and, even if they weren't good enough to win anything but a mythical fourth place trophy, they were a reasonably likeable bunch of hard working professionals who gave the required effort.

Arsenal finally have something real upon which to build. Let's hope that Arsene knows this time. Let's hope he knows what a winning squad really needs, and what winning players really look like. A trophy would be nice, but what always satisfies is a team worthy to be called The Arsenal.

Vexations, amusements, and you

Relief.

Relief is what I felt at the final whistle. Not relief at qualifying for a competition that we already know Arsenal will not win--how silly would that be?

It was not relief at finishing in fourth place in the league table, which I still assume was the minimum expected achievement before the season started.

It wasn't relief at the money that Arsenal will supposedly gain from surviving the group stage of the "Big Cup" because we already know that Arsenal won't go mad like a lottery winner and spend that money on players that will help the club erase a 16-point gap to the top or win that competition that we've already agreed they won't win anyway. Money's lovely when it cushions one's posterior, isn't it?  Oh and it's also not relief at Arsenal NOT getting that same money and then turning out their pockets like a madman in Las Vegas who has suddenly realised he has no means to get home--as in, "Dear lord, we had planned so earnestly to spend that money on practical things like a real goal scoring forward and now we don't have it!"  That's comedy right there, my friends.  Although, it may have helped Arsenal EXCUSE the not spending of money now that the albatross of Ashburton Grove seems to have been removed from the club's metaphorical neck.  Hmm...

No, the relief was quite simple: It was relief at not having to listen to the yapping mouths of the planet's massed ranks of anti-Arsenal idiots who live for the moments of dangling their collective genitalia in our faces as though they've accomplished something. That means all the Sky pundits, all the former players, Stewart Robson, Warren Barton, Chris Waddle, Alan Mullery, Scotland, people I haven't met yet or have ever heard of, and most of all, anyone associated with THFC.

You have no idea what it's like to be devoted to Arsenal. We're the most hated club in the world. I find that to be stupid, because clearly it should be either Manchester United or Leeds United, but instead, it's us.  We are the least fashionable, least liked, least respected, least appreciated club on the face of the planet which, as of this writing, is the only place in the universe known to support human life and football. Millwall wishes they were hated as much as Arsenal.  Kim Jong Un was offered an Arsenal shirt and said, "Are you fucking kidding me, man?  What, you think I want to be hated?"  OSAMA BIN LADEN WAS AN ARSENAL SUPPORTER.  Enough?

So to go into next season with the ejaculate of every so-called football expert in the known universe coating Lance Link, Secret THFC Footballer and his club, whilst at the same moment having the feces of every one of those same people being hurled, ironically, I'm sure, in chimp-like fashion at Arsenal, would have made football in and of itself too much to bear. I would have buried myself in press association reports and Andrew Mangan's comedy routines and that, I'm afraid, would have been that.

Relief.

I also must say that the way the table stood at the end of the season brought particular joy because of the words of that silly little bearded man in his hilarious little trench coat.  You remember that little man, don't you?  The little man who, when afforded a 7-point "gap" after a match on 3 March, made certain comments about how being in a "negative spiral" blah blah blah...the actual words aren't really important anymore, it's the IMPLICATION of the words, which seemed to be that Arsenal had fallen and they would not get up because of the dominance of the little man's club and the humiliation Arsenal had just suffered.

Well, you know what, you bearded little trench coat wearing elf, everyone thinks he has the prettiest wife at home.  Tomorrow, you'll wake up next to a fat old hag who'll be driving you to Europa League matches next season, so make sure you stuff the schedule for that competition in your wee trench coat along with the bananas you'll certainly be feeding THE GREATEST PLAYER IN THE WORLD.

I think I heard today that a reporter asked the wee bearded man if the "denied obvious penalty" (dear God, is there any other kind with THE GREATEST PLAYER IN THE WORLD involved?) somehow changed the outcome of the matches.  Hmm...because, let's see, that would've made Newcastle not give up a goal in the Arsenal match?

You people, all of you, who hate Arsenal so much, are so transparent.  It was as if somehow Andre Mariner was conspiring with Arsenal, when in fact two of the match officials who have been proven to hate Arsenal just as much as you do (one of those clowns named Mike, not Riley, right? and PC Webb) were assigned to our last two matches.  Really?  Somehow, even though THFC won their match anyway, Bobo the Diving Chimp! and his inability to "win" a penalty affected the Arsenal v. Newcastle match.

World, shut your mouth.

I know you won't, because I know it'll be 5,000 days of summer with constant remarks about no trophies and Arsenal should've done better, immediately followed by how can Arsenal do better when other clubs have more money, immediately followed by other contradictory statements about not liking it up us (what is "it" exactly, anyway?  A fist?  Who other than some kind of moral reprobate likes a fist or anything else "up em?"  Do you want something up you?) while saying that Arsenal became boring but also too soft.

(edit: Look at this pointless wind-up merchant's nonsense and tell me what you think: http://www.guardian.co.uk/football/blog/2013/may/19/arsenal-newcastle-arsene-wenger)

All of your blather bores me and makes football less fun than it ought to be, all because you're tiny little petty people who hate Arsenal and you know slating us will sell papers and generate web hits.

But at least we didn't finish fifth.

Relief.

What was that thing I wanted?

That thing, do you remember that thing?  I said I wanted it, and now I don't have it and I can't remember what it was, only that I don't have it now.

Arsenal have won another match.  This one was not much to think about, it was more of the same but less so. Much less so, in fact, because the pragmatism was absent.  This was a match played under what was perceived to be pressure on both sides, but in fact was played with one side sprinkled in faery dust and one side still unsure just what it is.

Arsenal won this match versus Wigan because Wigan ran out of steam, or maybe Wigan ran out of coal to make the steam, or possibly it was simply that the people shoveling the coal into the engine became so tired that they stopped shoveling at a pace rapid enough to keep the water boiling and the steam stopped being formed and then the whole machine powered by steam just stopped.

Wigan had about an hours worth of steam/coal/effort in them, and after that, it was over.  They really did fight well, Mike Dean really did his usual panto (I'm sickened unto death with match officials who think they are given some right to become part of the story), Arsenal may have conceded a silly foul in a dangerous area (according to the magistrate).  Then Wigan scored an equalising goal and Arsenal reverted to type.

For the record, I don't subscribe to magical thinking. A professor I admired at university once said "The history machine doesn't have an 'If...' button." So while it's fair to say that something almost happened, the truth is that it did not happen. Wigan did not score the go-ahead goal in the first 15 minutes of the second half, so you can stuff your almosts and nearlys and go on about your business.  You can't magically factor in the goal that didn't happen and then go on about Arsenal being lucky or Wigan being unlucky. Watch enough football, and you just eventually learn that shit is ultimately shit, except for Anderson, who somehow has managed to keep his job in Manchester despite being shit.

That was it, really. Wigan didn't score whilst giving maximum effort, then it looked like they grew weary, and then Arsenal scored 3 times in roughly 8 minutes, and it was fare thee well, Wigan. Quite literally, as then discussions almost immediately turned to relegation, money, money, money, and money. You won the FA Cup, Wigan, you put the whores of Eastlands to the sword, you helped the oil moneymen find a reason to send silly scarf man packing, but the reality is, you're pathetic and that doesn't matter.

I'll be excused from that conversation because I think Wigan can be proud of what they accomplished, and can be proud of not pissing away the chance to have a glorious day out at Wembley and for giving their supporters a wonderful memory. Relegation doesn't have to be a death sentence--unfortunately you only need look as far as the Humber to see that. Well played, Wigan. One word of advice to whomever ends up managing Wigan should they gain promotion soon--you might want to try surrendering fewer goals next time around. Cheers, that advice was completely free!

So that is why I am not one of those people (you know, THOSE people) who are tonight saying "Alas, poor Wigan, such stylish and properly played football, and poor Bobby MAH-tinez, what a good bloke, did you hear he's a good bloke?"  Hold the mirror up to Wigan and you see an absolutely wretched defence that has allowed 71 goals in 37 matches. 71 goals, sweet perforated bollox of San Sebastian that is really ridiculously horrible, just so profligate that can you really pity them? 

At some point a football club becomes like a person and must make a choice between artful death and pragmatic survival.  Wigan and Arsenal could be cousins if one takes that kind of choice into account. Arsenal chose pragmatic survival to avoid being relegated from the top four which is a league unto itself. Wigan chose glory--the wonderful Cup glory--and openness and an attempt at something more than the banality of pragmatism and paid for that choice with relegation.

What is better?  To drive the machine to its maximum until it explodes, extracting every moment of performance and excitement from it no matter the end, or to drive it practically, so that it survives and survives and survives?  Is it better to be Leeds United in the early 2000s or Stoke City now?  (Trick question, obviously it is better to be a blind deaf mute than be either one.)   Of the three sides relegated this season, only Wigan were attempting something that really exists for its own sake--giving something to the supporters that they could savour for years.  I will not pity them. But neither will I praise them. It was a fair result.

Arsenal, however, live to fight another day. Arsenal have chosen survival over artistry when relegation seemed not only possible but rather likely.  How strange that a man born of a fusion of French and German philosophies would exhibit such an English characteristic.  At the moment that it all seemed hopeless, Arsene Wenger instructed his side to simply dig in, keep your head down and soldier on.  Wigan have now paid for their reach.  Arsenal may well be paid for their pragmatism. Who would have thought such a fanciful thing were even possible?

"Please sir, could I have some more?"

When you're starving, even gruel satisfies the craving and does so to the extent that you will ask for another helping. Eat the weevils, they're rich in protein!  And dysentery is a smashing weight-loss programme, so dig right in.

This is what Arsenal are serving up in an end-of-season slog toward whatever fate awaits them: A runny, watery, gruel that is doing just enough to sustain the hopes of supporters and the squad's own desire to play in the big cup next season. 

And yet...and yet the form table says "Hang on a minute--this is quite different than last season's trip-stumble-fall across the finish line."  Instead of defeating our wee sisters from up the road, launching a brilliant run, then repeatedly punching themselves in the face until the final day of the season, this year's model has used a loss to that lot as a cold splash of water to bring back some missing vitality.

It's a complete reversal, but the result is still the same. It will come down to the final day of the season, and an away match against a side that may or may not offer up the comical defending that has come to reflect its manager's silly personality.

Waking up in the middle of a long winter, one of those mornings where your bones are so cold that your body rightly aches from being clenched up all night, you saw that Arsenal had taken just five points from five January matches.  After an unbeaten December that had supposedly righted the ship's course, the season had seemed to have completely crumbled. Rage and resignation battled for control of the Arsenal supporter's mind. An acceptance of fate seemed reasonable to me as I had so little energy left for rage anymore.

Two seasons in a row I've gone ahead and made peace with the idea that Arsenal would neither finish ahead of the Chickenballs nor qualify for the qualifying for the Champions League proper. That's not a load of fun when those things have seemed to be a given, even as challenging for the league has become a fading memory. But then Arsenal began to do what Arsenal are wont to do and the form table cannot lie: The Gunners have earned 29 points since the beginning of February, and dropped only 7.

What the hammer, what the change?  "Why so pragmatic, Arsene?"  Suddenly, and I mean literally from one match to the next, Arsenal went from being free-wheeling, devil-take-defence chokers to stuck in, grinding gears hard men content to win in the manner of George Graham's most turgid sides. Comic concession was replaced by 8-man walls of resistance.  The captain--the man doing mock acrobatic routines and giving giving away free kicks like they were lollies at the doctor's office--was benched. One Pole was sacrificed for another that was long-since forgotten. 

I looked at Wenger and said, "Who are you?  What have they done with the real Arsene?  SOYLENT GREEN IS PEOPLE! POSSIBLY EVEN MADE UP OF THE REMAINS OF ALEXANDER HLEB!"  Benching players for crap performances?  A steely resolve?  Winning ugly? 

The world has gone mad. Camus and Sartre have become chorus boys.

After the draw with United, I was "over it." I was bored with the classic Arsene feint, thrust, and parry. I was bent out of shape over Sagna's moment of madness.  I was saddened that losing a player like Giroud could actually have a negative impact on a side. United had clearly fallen arse over tit after winning the league and yet the Gunners could do little to trouble them.  "Meh," I said, with full shoulder-shrug included.

So...why did the 1-0 over QPR leave me both full and satisfied?  Content, even?  It's because of the result. The result is all that matters. The result is god. Worship the result. I would rather that result than another result. That was better than a 6-0 thrashing.

Why?

Because this squad is no longer deserving of handing out 6-0 thrashings.  Sorry, I hate to say it (no, I don't) but that would only be papering over the cracks in a house that needs much restoration. A hiding given to QPR would hurt more than help.  It would distract this bunch. It would have Theodore asking for more wages.  It would serve to inflate an opinion of a side that deserves nothing more than a bitter, give it all and then give it more struggle to achieve anything resembling a reward. 

That's the sort of effort that, if this team had approached every match with that mindset this season, would have the team at worst in second place at the moment. You don't need to get to February to discover the true nature of your side. You ought to know exactly what you have after you win 5 matches from your first 14.

A one-nil win over a relegated side full of overpaid mercenaries who are stepping out the door already is EXACTLY what this Arsenal team OUGHT to be doing every week. I don't need to channel basketball genius Rick Pitino to tell you that Bob Pires isn't walkin' through that door. You already know it. You know what this team is compared to its rivals.

1-0 over QPR was extremely satisfying. I'm not in the mood for beauty, for a fleeting glimpse of "what this team could be."  This team can't be anything more than what it is: Gallic flair sacrificed for Teutonic pragmatism. The two players who have come to symbolise this "new old" Arsenal?  Ha ha, it's Aaron Ramsey and Per Mertesacker.  It's the all-energy running and effort of the Welshman and the rather dour, "it's Pear not Pair" German that have served as the example for the others. In Ramsey they see an unwillingness to give less than the maximum, and in BFG they have organisation, calm, a sense of purpose and devotion to the grubby work of defending.  Neither player brings artistry to the match in his kit bag.

Arsene's earlier Arsenal sides featured a balance between the pretty and the ugly, between attack and defence, between goals scored and goals not conceded. I think this is what most bloggers are talking about these days when they say this version is unbalanced. It could never be both.  Not this lot. Rebalancing the side is what lies ahead in the summer--either that, or a willingness to admit that next season, the entire season, will need to look a lot more like the 1-0 over QPR Arsenal than any of us would like to see. Boring, boring?  One-nil to the...

Pride in one's moral superiority is still a sin

I've come a long way, I have. I'm a bit cynical now.

Every time I hear the same old lines, the ones about "super, super quality" or mentions of "spirit" or "character," I just shrug.  When I think about the remarks that we can't bring in new players because they will impede the development of the players already on the books, I might simply groan a little and move on. 

You can't find a player in January.

We will only bring in top players.

I did not see it.

Disappointed love.

What is the most deserving target of my ire on any given day?  I don't know.  Many times it's the blatant anti-American sentiment from the gaffer.  You recall, he'd rather tour Vietnam (annual average per capita income $300 US) than the United States. The United States, home of MUFC's new shirt sponsor, Chevrolet.  Home to the National Broadcasting Company, which will be the first American network to televise every single Premier League match live next season.  Home to over 300,000,000 people.  That means if 90% of Americans ignore English football, more than 30 million of them will be watching.

But no, please, why bother with that market when you can tour Malaysia and Vietnam?

Perhaps Ryo Miachi will sell more Arsenal shirts than Kagawa does for United. Of course.  Why not?   Kagawa has won 3 consecutive championship medals, whilst Ryo was last seen being carted off in some Cup match for another club.  So by all means, focus on ANY market but the United States. Every other "big club" in England comes to the USA, especially those that have, and make, more money than ours. Just keep touring Myanmar and Bangladesh--you'll spin money out of monkeys, don't worry.

Ah but see, I'm not angry about that topic every day. Some days it's the flaccid transfer policy. I mean, if we're lucky, the club might spend upwards of 18 million quid this summer!  On some French teenagers!  Or maybe we'll find a club like Malaga on the verge of bankruptcy who want to sell us two Spanish internationals--2nd rate Spanish internationals, mind, but still, if they're Spanish, they must be good!

Yet it's not just anger about the amount being spent, it's also the unwillingness to buy players who might, in some egalitarian fantasy world, impede the development of players already on the books who've yet to do fuck all but might, just might, if no better players are brought in to compete with them!  But somehow, even though the reasoning is "don't buy players who will stunt the growth of other players," those mythical "other players" never play first team football!  Eisfeld, Aneke, Yennaris, Gnabry, Spanish teen, German teen, French teen, African teen, some other bloke, a kid on loan to some Spanish Tercera club--do they ever play first team football for us?  No. They don't.  So how, exactly, does buying a player with more experience and demonstrated ability hurt those players?  Help me out here, I seem to be lost.  Soy perdido, ayudame.

This is all nonsensical stuff that happens off the pitch. I don't really feel qualified to comment on the on-pitch stuff because I'm no tactician.  I do think I know barely enough to say, "Hang on a minute--seems that high-line business isn't all that helpful" after we keep surrendering counter-attack upon counter-attack. Or maybe, when I see 90% possession = 1 goal (from a set piece), I can speculate on the effectiveness of the plan of "attack."  Does the 4-3-3 even work anymore?  What is it?  Do we have the personnel to play it with anything resembling effectiveness?

And why does it take until late February to decide to build from a foundation of stability from the back?  I hear some sort of circus calliope playing in the background and I see Tommy V attempting some sort of gymnastical trick to the amusement of the audience when I think of the defence.  Every other club in the league (many from the lower divisions, if our Cup form is to be believed) saw us as soft and vulnerable. That's as embarrassing as anything else you can say about us.

I might have more unhappiness to impart. But for now, that's where I find myself.  As for the two biggest matches of the post-NLD period, has anyone else noticed that the opponent in both was under little or no pressure at all to "go for it?"  Bayern did fuck all in the second leg, and MUFC was only slightly better than that.  Big matches against big clubs--with no real skin in the game for the opposition.

Go back and look at November and January for our beloved club. When it was clear they were wobbling, wouldn't the "new" pragmatic approach have saved us points?   Wouldn't a more solid, organised, and less adventurous style already have us in the glorified 3rd place?   The way those games were played now seems astonishingly naive.  Pretty football is a grand idea. I'd sing "1-Nil to the..." even if the match were "boring, boring."