I’m really too angry to write at this point, but I’m going to at least take a stab at it and then edit some of the nastiness out in the morning. It won’t be pretty, this I can assure you. Nope… can’t do it.

(32 hours of diaphragmatic breathing later)

OK, feeling a bit better about it this morning. Well, not really. This really does feel like a loss for some reason. To see that late goal get bungled in so… unluckily, well… it just hurt, that one. I’ve got a sinking feeling that those two points left on the pitch at St. Andrews will be quite sorely missed at the end of the season. And, having to watch Manuel Almunia flopping around in the net like a gaffed fish just sort of summed it all up for him this season, didn’t it? Just when it looked like he’d turned the corner… this. Hopefully he can shrug it off and move on.

The omission of Samir Nasri & Andrey Arshavin, and the inclusion of Sol Campbell was a bit surprising, but confusing just the same. The boss said the most important game is the one before them, and that he wouldn’t pick the team based upon the first leg with Barcelona. That explains Sol’s presence, but not the benching of AA23 & SN8. This could have been a much different result had the pair started, I’ll wager. Their impact on the match was instantaneous when they stepped on the pitch. We’ll see if the move pays dividends during the week.

Despite all that, we seemed to have started well. We were moving the ball in our fashion, and they were playing us hard. Their only option. I’m not going to even get into the shit job that Howard Webb and his crew did. I just don’t have it in me. The subject just won’t go away. Suffice to say Webb handed out cards that weren’t deserved and held on to ones that were, on both sides of the ball. St. Andrews is a tough enough place to play without having to play your way around shit officiating… again. I’ve read on at least one blog this morning that the Birmingham fans were singing songs about Martin Taylor. I suppose seeing Eduardo on the pitch for a photo op with some of the top shelf medical staff who helped save his foot that day was too much for the crowd. Clearly, a year of relegation to the Championship hasn’t brought about any class in the midlands. Not that I expected any more from them. Speaking of class…

Did you catch Alex MacLeish unleashing that wicked snot rocket at 76′? A full-on “gym teachers’ hanky” on international broadcast, right down the front of his tie. Pure class, wouldn’t you say? You can dress a monkey in a suit, but he’s still just a fucking monkey after all… or so I’m told. This picture doesn’t do the video justice, but the camera was at just such an angle as to catch the waning midlands sun, beaming through between the stands to illuminate the nasal blast issuing forth from the Scots’ snoot. He looked like some terrific ginger snot atomizer… a snotamizer, if you will. Scot-a-snot-a-mizer? I digress.

Back to the match. So… I called this result. I actually have a spreadsheet that I put together for my own personal idiocy, called “Three Horse Race.xls” in which I analyze and try to guess the result of the last ten games of the season for the aforementioned three horses. For this week, I had us down for a point, with the other two horses taking three a piece. If the other horses draw when they play each other next week, and then each draw or lose to the Spuds (I can’t believe I just said that), and then we win out the remaining six games… guess what? We take second place on goal differential. Read that last sentence again. And then, guess what? I jump out the nearest fucking window. It behooves me this season, as in seasons past, that I watch most matches on the first floor of my palatial estate… but should this most chilling of scenarios play out, I will most likely seek higher elevation from which to leap. I’ll aim for the Olympic size swimming pool, of course.

The goal by Samir Nasri… what a beauty. That’s twice in as many weeks the little Marseilles Starter, as DJ Tayo likes to call him, has put on a little one-man show. This one didn’t garner him as many style points, for sure. But it certainly got me out of my seat. Talk about threading a needle. Lovely shot.

Theirs… gah. What a clattered effort at the death. I just don’t want to relive that flopping awkward mess. At the end of the season, I may have to write up a little “look back” piece and tally up the points lost to defensive cock-ups like this one. It won’t be pretty. No matter… we still have games before us and they all need winning. Let’s just go on and win the remaining six Prem matches, whilst tending to the simple matter of blowing through Barcelona, Inter and then Manchester United for the Champions League… and then call it a day. No trouble at all. *sigh*

I somehow managed to avoid all football media coverage since Saturday and when I returned home from a trip, finally sat down to watch the match last night. I can’t tell you the negative effect this had on my already frayed nerves.

So, ten-man Arsenal managed to beat twelve-man West Ham. “Why twelve, Jack?” you ask… Well, obviously the ref should have been dressed in Hammers away kit. If we extend that thought, let’s just make it fifteen-man West Ham with all four officials siding with the visitors. I swear, and this is not the first time I’ve said it, the bad officiating in the Premiership is simply ruining this game for me. But no matter, we outplayed them, outclassed them, and took the points. Job done. But, at the expense of a one match ban on our Verminator. The full price of which we will pay in the run up to the title, perhaps at St. Andrews.

At times, the football was simply mesmerizing. At one point the commentator said something to the effect of “If style was considered in the league table, Arsenal would have won the title long ago.” Well put, Mr. Champion. If only all our opponents were West Ham. Although, in fairness to them… they did look somewhat dangerous at times. They never put me entirely out of my comfort zone, but there were still some hair-raising moments. The worst, of course, was the errant penalty on Vermaelen. He certainly did get the slightest of touches on the shoulder, but by no means did he drag him down. No, in fact… he threw himself down. But Manuel Almunia stepped up for the penalty and said “No en mi reloj, perra!” as he expertly palmed the shot wide, then recovered catlike quick to chase after it. I can’t tell you how good it feels to see Manuel playing like this again. But to my point… Karma is a bitch, Gianfranco. It’s a stone cold bitch. And you, my fine friend, are in quite the precarious position just now. The last thing you need is to be tempting fate with the Football Fairies, because they do frown upon divers. You’ better get that lesson through to your boys, or we’ll be reading about your exploits in the Championship next season. Arsenal learned that lesson hard way when Eduardo threw himself to the pitch like a common Italian earlier in the season. If not for that spate of bad karma that followed? We might be several points clear in the run-in. Alas, now we must fight.

Our pelanty, as the other commentator kept enunciating, was clearly that. A penalty. And Cesc Fabregas stepped up and put it past Green with the greatest of ease, to seal the deal. Denilson’s goal early in the game, was brilliant. What a terrifically weighted ball from Niklas Bendtner to set him up, and a precision shot from the young Brazilian just past the stretched Robert Green.

So, the most important thing is that we took the points. And, with Chelsea dropping two points to my dog’s team, things are starting to look quite intriguing. If we win out, and someone like (I can’t believe I’m typing this) Spuds or Stoke can pull off a draw on United and/or Chavs… we just might do it. Coming in tied with one or the other is a real possibility, but we’re currently seven and two goals behind the other two respective horses in this race on GD. All those early season wins where we leaked a goal may come back to haunt us, but let’s hope not. We still have some tough matches left to play. Let’s get to them.

If it’s enlightened and spirited discussion about last night’s match you seek… you’ve most certainly come to the wrong place. No, what you will find here is pure bias toward Arsenal and ridicule for Phil Brown and his merry clutch of thugs. Read on.

It started off quite well. I was happy to see that big Sol had recovered adequately enough to start the match. Sagna also made the whistle, and we wound up with what’s turning out to be our new back four. The midfield began the match by moving the ball in a fashion that would make Meadowlark Lemon drool, and the front line of Nik, AA & Eboue looked dangerous. And… at 13 minutes in, they showed why. After a five or six pass move that looked more like Chinese pinball than football, the rock passed to Andrey Arshavin on the left side of their box. In a nice impersonation of Samir Nasri from the last match, AA light-footed his way past two defenders and opened the scoring for us. Lovely football.

Then things started to get a little bit fucked up. Fourteen minutes after showing Hull what real football looks like, one of their boys, who goes by the name of Vassini Of Hefferweisen… I think he might be the only Premiership player to actually have a preposition in his name, correct me if I’m wrong… well, he decided that since they don’t actually know what to do with the ball when they get it, he’ll just fall down in the box until the ref pointed to the spot. And, not to disappoint, the myopic moron in black did just that. To make matters worse, Sol Campbell was given a yellow for the lightest of touches on Vassini Of Hefferweisen. Shit officiating… again. I mused on Twitter that I didn’t think the quality of officiating actually could get any worse in the Premiership, but I’m constantly proven wrong on the issue. It’s sad. I understand it’s a hard job, I really do… but it’s now to the point where it’s actually ruining the game for me. It’s too hard to watch when things go this wrong, this often. Either way, the Cowardly Lion Jimmy Bullard stepped to the spot and put the shot past Almunia to equalize. The celebration was a bit much considering the circumstance, but I guess you take what you can get when you’re Hull.

The shit officiating continued, as we were denied two clear penalties during the match. At least one of which the official had an absolutely perfect view of. And, to make matters worse, thugs like Boateng were allowed to roam the pitch far longer than he should have. There were no less than three red card incidents and countless yellows that were not given. But, we finally saw at least a glimpse of some justice when Boateng tried to cut Bacary Sagna in half and he saw red. I thought that after our bright start we would turn this into a 6-1 victory against a thoroughly parked Hull bus. And, in fairness… we did attack. It just wasn’t, shall we say… going very well. For a while. Quite a while.

The closer we got to time, the tighter I got… and those creeping thoughts from last season made their appearance, like ghostly mists in a clouded mind. “Is this really how it is to end? At the hands of Phil Fucking Brown and his smarmy shit-eating smile?” It was too much to bear… I stood in my living room for the last fifteen minutes, arms folded, my resolve being tested. But, I still felt in the back of my mind that we had it in us. It was Hull, FFS… ten man HULL. Someone would step up and put this right. When full time arrived the fourth official held up the sign showing 6 minutes of added time. Most of which came from Sol Campbell going in hard on one of their pansies who had to be stretchered off. But at least Sol knows how to go in hard without intent to maim. A lesson most of Phil Brown’s crew haven’t yet learned. But, with the minutes ticking away… things started getting tense. We attacked. Wave after wave, pounding their 9-0-0 formation, until finally, three minutes from the final whistle… a hard shot came at the keeper who inexplicably palmed it straight back away from the goal… and Niklas Bendtner, our Greatest of Danes, flew in and stabbed it right back past the keeper to get us the three points. Ohhhh the fist-pumping, bird-flipping, swear-yelling jumping and spinning action that went on in my living room needs no description. It was immeasurable. Job done.

And the best part… the very best part was watching that shit eating smile fall off of Phil Brown’s swarthy face. He aged a bit there at the end. You could see it. This Arsenal is different. This Arsenal doesn’t stand for the usual tactics of just “stickin’ it up ‘em”. If you come in hard, this pack of fancy foreigners is coming right back at you, harder.

Eight more to go. If we win out, or near to it… we’ve got a serious shot at the title. Although, our run-in isn’t quite as easy as some say. I see at least two potential stumbling blocks. Let’s hope Man IOU & the Chavs have more opportunities to stumble. And, Fulham and Hammers didn’t make things any easier on us, as both rolled over this weekend and took a right thumping in the keester from the aforementioned. But… you can’t say this spring won’t be exciting. I live for this.

COME ON YOU ARSENAL!

On a night when we had to win, simply had to muster key performances from several players… Arsenal came up big, with excellent performances from each and every Arsenal player to step on the pitch. When we play that way, no one can stand before us. No one.

I’m really glad that I’m not responsible for picking Man of the Match. I don’t think I could choose, when so many deserve the honor. I’ll start with Samir Nasri. He simply orchestrated this match like a seasoned maestro from start to finish, stepping up to replace the injured Cesc Fabregas. And, he did our Captain honorably, I’d say. Flanked by the excellent Alex Song and Abou Diaby, the midfield was ours. Add Tomas Rosicky into that mix, and it’s not hard to see why Porto were having trouble getting through the middle of the park. And, as if that weren’t enough, Samir managed one of the most skillful individual effort goals I’ve ever seen (this, coming from a man who was on-hand to watch Pelé play back in the late 1970s). SN8 simply samba’d his way from the right outside corner of their 18 yard box, through not one, nor two… but three defenders to expertly pound his shot in off the far post at an obtuse angle. The Porto keeper was perfunctorily put upon his ass. Breathtaking.

I felt this game coming in my old bones, I truly did. On Twitter, just minutes before the match, I wrote:

“Big games for AA, SN & NB. Come on you GUNNERS!”

And did they ever come through. Andrey Arshavin may not have been able to “make goal” last night, but he certainly created a few with his surgical footwork. Notably, the first two of Niklas Bendtner’s hat trick. They were both tireless at hounding the Portuguese defense, and it paid off. After missing a half dozen sitters at the weekend, The Great Dane came up large with three, marking his first premiership hat trick. And, was it not quite touching to see big ol’ Sol getting all up in Nik’s face and letting him know just what he thought of his efforts after the PK? If that sort of reaction from your teammates doesn’t inspire, nothing will. I feel sorry for the next defense that has to face Bendtner, as he’s probably chomping at the bit to tear another one open.

Speaking of Sol and the rest of the defense… what a fantastic effort by them all to get that clean sheet. Despite some nervy moments where it felt like Porto might actually come up with the goods to ruin our party, the central defense pairing of Sol Campbell and Thomas Vermaelen were like a wall before their attack. Herculean efforts from them both. Flanked by Bacary Sagna and the back-on-form Gael Clichy, we were simply too much for them. And, at a time when previously sketchy performances by some of our men have suddenly made a turn for the better, Manuel Almunia is putting in some solid work between the sticks. One can only hope this is a sign of things to come for him. Come on, Manuel! You know you’ve got it in you to be world class.

I’m saving the best for last. As much as I loved seeing Nik get his hat trick, and Samir positively confound the onlooking defense as he scored… my absolute favorite moment of the night, the one that made me literally do a spinning jump in my living room with fists raised… was seeing Emmanuel Eboue score his goal. A blown Porto corner saw the ball deflected up field, where Arshavin collected, seemingly set to run the whole length of the pitch alone… but all of a sudden, here comes Eboue, simply flying up the center of the pitch in support. Andrey once again took the opportunity to orchestrate as he got past the defense and dropped an absolutely perfect pass in front of Eboue. He took a touch, rounded the keeper and slotted home past a sliding Porto defender. I… fucking… erupted. How I didn’t wake most of my neighbors is beyond me. And what does Eboue do? He trots over near the corner flag, all the while waving his teammates toward him to celebrate… Together... Victoria Concordia Crescit. And did they ever. He was simply covered by Arsenal players in both red & white and training gear alike. He then extricated himself from the throng, put a hand to the Arsenal crest on his shirt, then saluted the crowd. Class. Arséne Wenger forwent his usual downward-double-fist-pump-whilst-skipping celebration (which I have to say looks a bit gay) and simply burst upward out of his seat, fists pumping skyward and a massive grin on his face. had I not been watching a recording of the match, it is entirely possible that Wenger and I would have both been airborne at the same time. Interesting, that. Yet, I’ve never seen him react so fiercely to the successes of his team… perhaps a bit of vindication? I don’t know… but it was great to see. Watch it again.

I, like many others in the Arsenal universe, was calling for Eboue’s head not all that long ago. I am ever so glad that I didn’t get my wish. I don’t know what, why or how he’s done it… but Emmanuel Eboue has performed a complete turnaround from the darkened depths to which he descended last season. Dare I say that there are very few who could have returned from such, and I wouldn’t have bet a red cent that he would or could be one of them… but he is. And he has. And… it is good. Well done, Manu. Well done.

So now… onward to that shithole picturesque and tranquilly scenic Hull City, to face that angry orange fellow with the complexion of a worn leather belt Phil Brown and his poxy bunch of twats cheery band of fellows from up norf. They’re desperate to find some points, and they’ve probably got it in their minds that they’ve been able to get some off us before, so why not this time? It should make for a good match. Rest up, Gunners. Go north, and come home having first draped yourselves with tiger pelts.

Not quite the double digit goal-fest that some were expecting, but a good solid performance from the squad, a fair scoreline and the required three points. I wasn’t quite comfortable throughout the match, even at 2-1, with Chris Eagles on the pitch. When the ex-Manc is on his game, he can cause problems for just about any defense. How funny is it though,  that his name is Eagles, he has sharp angular features like a bird, and went so far as to underline these facts by doing a bird dance of some sort with Nugent and Co. after their goal? Squawk?

Speaking of their goal… whiskey tango foxtrot, Defense? It was a great header from one of their boys to put our clearance right into Nugent’s path. His shin pad chip over the Spanish Mule Deer in the headlights Manuel Almunia was well played, but I don’t think even Nugent thought that ball was going in. Almunia seemed to be calling for offsides for some reason, spent a crucial second waving his arms around, then reacted far too late to do anything about the shot. He seemed to leap for it long after it went in. Not that he got any help from the central defense on that one. They were merely bystanders. So, yet another stupid goal leaked when we should have had a clean sheet.

No matter, because we still managed three excellent goals, each one quite fun to look at in replay. I wound up finally getting a copy of the match at nearly midnight. It was decent quality, but the commentary was in Russian. Interesting, I have to say. I was my own commentator in my head. Cesc’s goal was a thing of stark elegance. It started with some excellent footwork by Samir Nasri, who then had the balls of stainless steel prerequisite to then chip not one, two or three, but five Burnley defenders and drop the ball in the one and only place where that play could have worked: exactly in front of the right foot of Cesc Fabregas, who made the ensuing nutmeg of their keeper look like he does this each day. Lovely.

Theo Walcott answered his critics of late, with an overall excellent effort throughout the match, but capped with a lovely little run from the right corner of the 18-yard box, dancing along the line toward the center to shake off the defense and powered  left footed shot into the far side of the goal. Professional. He did some sort of gesture pointing to the empty place on his wrist where there’s usually a £25k watch as he ran over to one of the trainers. Not sure what that meant. It’s “Theo Time”? I sure hope so. More of that, please.

Andrey Arshavin, who came on late in the match, was disappointed that he was not able to make goal any quicker than 30 minutes on the pitch. But when he did, it was a doozy. While his teammates seemed satisfied to jerk around with the ball near the Burnley corners to burn off the clock at 2-1, Andrey simply wasn’t having that shit. He plowed in, stole the ball from that mess, powered toward goal and positively threaded a fucking needle at the near post. I’ve watched the replay several times now and I still can’t see how that ball went in. It seems to go through the post. Accuracy. His celebration said it all. “2-1 isn’t enough, 3-1 is better. 20 more minutes on pitch, I make goal maybe three more times.” Please see out your career with us, Andrey, you Lilliputian beauty.

Niklas Bendtner… yes, he missed a lot of chances. But, man… do I ever like this guy’s work ethic. He is reallly putting in the effort out there. He could have put five goals in yesterday if the winds were blowing in his favor, but alas… it was one of those days. It was nice to see that the fans recognized him for that, too. I think we have yet to see the best from Nik, so I hope he stays in an Arsenal shirt so we get to watch him bloom. He’s close.

Speaking of fans… those banners for Aaron Ramsey were a matter of pure excellence. The Setanta feed I had started a good few minutes early, even before the Elvis song, and they kept showing close-up shots of the One Aaron Ramsey, the Arseblog Do It For Aaron and the other Do It for Rambo banners. And, the players walking from the tunnels in the Get Well Soon, Aaron shirts was a nice touch of class. Well done, Gooners. Well done.

The only other downside of the match is that they took Cesc off pretty early with a potential hamstring issue. I sincerely hope it was a preventative measure, with one eye on the Porto match. I suppose we’ll hear by Monday if he is to play. To lose Cesc for any length of time now would be awful, but the boys carried on quite well without him yesterday. All in all, a great showing by the Gunners. Let’s keep that momentum going and force the other two horses in this race to be on their toes (hooves?) in they want to keep us from overtaking them.