I didn’t see the match. Partly because I’m busy moving house, and partly because I’m still upset about the last few matches. That we beat Fulham’s Reserves to regain our strangle hold on third place is a good thing. And, keeping Spuds down at least one notch is always a good thing. But, I couldn’t really be bothered to even watch the match. That’s the first time that’s ever happened to me. I’m not sure what to think about it. I know a nice long summer will probably get me sorted and by July I’ll chomping at the bit to see the Arsenal again. But for now… I’m just sort of sick of it all. I hate to admit it, but it’s true. I do and always will love my Arsenal, but this is now several seasons in a row where at the end, I just need some… space.

The football at times this season was brilliant. Simply incredible to watch. Yet as the season wore on, we lost that magic. We gained the ability to eke out points through will, but the magic went away. The flowing, mesmerizing football disappeared, replaced by grinding out results. And then, even that failed. It’s left me feeling more than a bit empty.

So, I think I’m probably going to take a nice long break from the blog. Most likely the entire off-season. Short of something momentous happening with the team, I can’t imagine I’ll be back at it until next season. I look forward to it, but I also look forward to the break, getting into the World Cup, and just unwinding from this grueling season. I hope the players get a decent rest too. They certainly need and deserve it. Thanks for another great season, Arsenal. Even though we fell short of the mark yet again, it was one hell of a ride.

Disgusted. This is the first match in my life I didn’t finish watching. Command-DEL sent it right where it fucking belongs.

I fully realize we’re on the back foot with injuries, and we’re about to come away from the end of another long and grueling campaign with nothing to show for it. But that is not an excuse to fuck off on the pitch like you just don’t care anymore. If we play this way against Fulham, we deserve to lose. And further more, the fucking Spuds deserve third place more than we do at this point. They are, in their own ridiculous way, fighting tooth and nail to claw their way up the table. Arsenal are sitting back and watching the remainder of the season just happen to them. I can’t even believe I’m actually writing this, and it breaks my heart. I’m actually considering not watching the final match.

I have never, ever been this upset with Arsenal. Most other teams would be thrilled with third or fourth place in the Premiership, I understand. But, this is Arsenal. Victoria Concordia Crescit, anyone? Our harmony has been upended and victory is nowhere to be seen. Arsène Wenger has some serious work cut out for him this summer if he’s to restore either. Good fucking luck trying to do it with one, perhaps two signings, Professor. And you just know that’s all we’ll get. Chamakh is nearly a lock, and we’ll see one perhaps two other names, if we’re extremely lucky, that no one has ever heard of. “Ones for the future.” I’m telling you right now, that it’s not good enough. I’m getting a little bit tired of waiting for the future. I’m getting a little tired of hearing the blogosphere pundits tell us how wonderful we did this year considering all the injuries we sustained. Tell yourself that when John Fucking Terry is holding the silverware over his head and kissing it with lips still moist from Mrs. Bridge’s DNA.

Wholesale changes are in order. If they don’t happen, we’ll see yet another fruitless season rife with injuries. I hope to sweet fuck that I’m entirely wrong about that.

So… that was pretty boring. I let my little guy stay awake and watch the recording of this one with me, hoping for fireworks. He was asleep before the half. As was I… well, nearly.

It seemed Citeh were bent on, as they say, “parking the bus.” Which they did, and I can’t say I blame them. Should they get three off Spuds next week, they may wind up in fourth place and subsequently, in Europe next season. A lucrative haul for them, indeed. I hadn’t given it much thought until I heard DJ Tayo on “It’s Up for Grabs Now” this past week (love that show), when he called Manchester City potentially getting into the Champions League “the death of football.” I hadn’t considered it much, but as he said it I knew just what he meant. And, he might be right. Sure, you could argue that it’s already begun, what with the massive transfer fees and the erosive de-anglicizing of football. But, this could seriously upend the game if the Man City model is successful. Sure, it would be worse if they were running away with the league by ten points, but I think a lot of people wrote them off and assumed this mercenary tactic simply would not work. You couldn’t, after all, simply buy your way to the top of the English Premiership… the finest leagues in the world… could you? I’d say a fourth place finish is a strong argument that you can, or at least come close enough so that it makes sense in the ledger books. Scary stuff, indeed.

It was nice to see Patrick Vieira get the warm & fuzzy from the Ashburton Grove crowd. Legend. I wouldn’t expect any less. Although, it was a shame his applauding off the pitch had to be coupled with the booing onto the pitch of Adebayor. I’m not sure quite what goes through the disillusioned head of someone like him, but it must be disturbing. Did he think he could get himself back into good graces with Arsenal by wearing red boots? Was he trying to be cute with the pigtails? I haven’t seen a smile that forced since Lisa Marie Presley showed up on stage and jammed her tongue into the mouth of Michael Jackson. Shiver. You could just tell in the way he came onto the pitch that the atmosphere had gotten to him. There was an added weight on his shoulders. A weight that a true professional wouldn’t allow. And it’s a good thing too, because had he put City ahead, we would have seen the Emirates first old-school pitch invasion. With pig-tailed Adebayor being carried off overhead in a sea of pitchforks and torches. But, no… instead, he was his typical lackadaisical self, pretending to be having a grand old time with all his old Arsenal buddies. All of which appeared to not want a thing to do with him. At one point, he came over and hugged Alex Song after a challenge. I don’t think Song even acknowledged his presence. High road. That boy is all Arsenal. I’m getting a Song shirt next season, for sure. But, Adebayor… I’m never more glad that he’s left. He was never Arsenal. Way back in August 2009, while writing up the coming season, I wrote:

Offsidebayor… we hardly knew ye. I can’t wait to see you sluggishly moping about the pitch up norf. Dazzle the Mancs with your first touch like a rapist. Bungle your way around, and do your dopey dances when in late April, you’ve scored your 11th goal.

And here we are, in late April… and he’s scored 13. So, I was slightly off. But, I’d say we’ve certainly gotten the better part of that deal. £25 million? That’s nearly £2 million per goal, so far. I’m thinking perhaps he wasn’t worth it, eh Sheikh Mansour? But, if his efforts squeak their asses into Europe, perhaps. Either way… fuck ‘em.

Sorry to lump this in with the Adebayor rant, but my recording of the game gave no footage prior to kickoff, so I didn’t get to see the reaction of the crowd to Kolo Toure. I hear it was good, and well it should be. I miss him.

So, Citeh parked the bus and nicked a point off us. That’s about all that can be said about the match. I hope our remaining two fixtures against Rovers & the Cottagers are a bit more exciting. We need just one more point to secure third place, worst case being we get it on GD over Spuds. I can’t help feeling a bit “meh…” with the wind up to this season, but I immediately think of the injuries. So many. How is it possible? It’s getting near time to look forward to next season, but not quite yet.

I’m more than a wee bit disappointed this morning. If it’s pleasant commentary to make you feel better about yesterday’s match, then click the fuck on, my friend. You won’t find it here.

That… display yesterday was simply the worst thing I’ve seen from the team all season. The way Arseblogger sums it up in his post is pretty much identical to the way I feel about the subject, and there’s not much more I can add to it than that.

I realize we’re banged and bruised. I realize that we’re limping out the season. And I do realize that it must be ridiculously hard to pull on boots at the end of an embattled season like this and find the strength to perform at Arsenal levels. But not trying is simply unacceptable. This is not some mid-table team with nothing to play for. This is Arsenal. Yet the XI that Wenger put out there yesterday simply gave up when they thought they had it won. And, hats off to Wigan who saw an excellent opportunity and took it. That’s normally a lesson that we teach in the waning minutes of a match.  Yesterday, we were the pupil learning: “It’s not over, it’s never over, until the whistle blows.” In the space of ten minutes we were dismantled by a team struggling for Premiership survival, and any and all hopes we may have had of taking second or even *gasp* first place sailed right out the fucking window.Well done, Wigan. You’ll probably stay up this year on this win, and deservedly so.

Have another look at our remaining fixtures. What was being called “an easy run-in” a few weeks back doesn’t look like such a stroll in the park anymore, does it? Manchester City, Blackburn and Fulham. They’re all arguably playing better than Wigan right now, the team that just rolled us over in the space of ten minutes. Thankfully, Spuds and Citeh have to play each other before the campaign is up, so one or both of them must drop points in that match. Otherwise, it would have been mathematically possible for us to lose out and be in a goal differential fight with City for 5th place. That is, if the team that showed up yesterday is the package we go with for the remainder. But, it looks like the worst we can do is fourth right now. Hopefully our team can figure out where they mislaid their testicles this morning and fight to keep third place.

It never fails to amaze me how quick things can change in this league. It’s one of the reasons I love it, but it’s also one of the reasons it drives me nuts.

The morning is tinged with disappointment, bewilderment, and fair bit of sadness. Going out of the title race is one thing. Going out to Tottenham at White Hart Lane is yet another. Yes, I called them and their ground by their proper name. It’s the least they (I can’t believe I’m saying this) deserve… *choke*… after finally figuring out a way to beat us after eleven years. I still hate them. Despise is probably the better word there, but… they outplayed us last night. I take solace in the fact that the Arsenal side they outplayed was so severely depleted as to be nearly a cup side, yet they beat us just the same. And it does well and truly suck.

We just couldn’t seem to get anything going for the better part of an hour. The pressure seemed to be pretty constant from us for long periods, but it just wasn’t enough pressure. No end product. And, if you needed further proof of the yawning chasm between the ability of Thomas Vermaelen and that of Mikael Silvestre, you got it last night. Once TV5 left, the defense collapsed. If Silvestre is on this team next season I swear I’m going to have an epic bout of conniptions. He might do well, but it needs to be elsewhere. Thomas? We need him back ASAFP. The rest of the defense didn’t have their best night either, although it was nice to see big Sol putting in some offensive threat on corners and set pieces. How sweet it would have been if he had knocked one in. There of all places. But, it wasn’t to be.

Manuel Almunia seemed to be having another off day. His punch which led to Rose’s goal was certainly questionable. But in his defense, having punched the ball so fucking hard, who would have expected it to come screaming right back at him at 70mph? From Spuds? Never. But it did. The former Spud commentator even mentioned something along the lines of “He’ll never hit that shot again in his career.” Perhaps. But the one time he did had to be against us, didn’t it? And it was the thunderclap that knocked us a bit senseless for a bit.

Midfield just lacked that spark we so sorely miss without Cesc there. Samir Nasri can fill that void to a certain extent, but I think it unfair to expect him to simply be Cesc. If it were that simple, we’d have a whole side full of Cescs. I thought Abou Diaby worked pretty hard and did a fair job of keeping the ball, but he seemed to be left stranded far too often, with no options open to pass.

The introduction of Theo Walcott seemed to breathe new life into the side. Oddly, Bacary Sagna went off, and Emmanuel Eboue, largely useless in midfield all match, moved to right back. I’m not sure what prompted Wenger to do that, although I suspect it was lack of replacements for Sagna later in the match, had he left him on.

Up front, Niklas Bendtner worked hard, trying to make a case for leaving the imminent Robin van Persie on the bench. When RvP finally came on (WTF were you waiting for Wenger?), the impact was immediate. If it weren’t for the Spud keeper having the match of his life, we might have won it. RvP was denied at least two shots that would sail right by most keepers. Niklas finally put us on the board with a carbon copy of his goal against Wolves, but it was a simple case of “too little, too late.”

When the whistle blew, I felt an immense pressure lift. Then the sadness set in. To see our boys who fought so hard this season, have to limp off on one leg like this and go home yet again, empty handed… well, it hurts. There’s still the fight for second place, which would certainly be a good thing. And, the only thing better than seeing Manchester United not win the title this season, would be seeing them not win it in third place. It’s something, at least. Something to grasp at in these waning days, no? In the meantime, there’s four games left to win. So…

COME ON YOU ARSENAL!