December 2001

1.12.01 Ipswich 0 Arsenal 2

9.12.01 Arsenal 3 Aston Villa 2

West Ham 1 Arsenal 1

Arsenal 1 Newcastle 3

Liverpool 1 Arsenal 2

Arsenal 2 Chelsea 1

29.12.01 Arsenal 2 Middlesbrough 1

9.12.01

Arsenal 3 Aston Villa 2

We’ve touched on this before; but we really don’t like John Gregory. Maybe it’s that ill fitting leather jacket he wears- a two sizes too small effort that makes him look like Gerry Anderson made him out of an old bit of scrap wood, or maybe it’s that appalling hair gel that looks like he’s had his head stuck up a twenty foot twat. But enough of Doug Ellis. We think the reason we find him so unpalatable is that he is just a git. Seeing him being interviewed on Match of the Day, or whatever the piss poor poltroons at ITV call their sorry show, we were aghast when he was asked, ‘did the best team win?’ and he looked shiftily at the camera and said ‘no.’ Yes, they did, Johnny Lardhead. Eleven against fourteen and we still won. The referee, a slightly smaller twat than twenty foot, and his hilarious linesmen, Moe and Curly, were an absolute disgrace. A good goal disallowed, a penalty turned down and a slew of stupid yellow cards (all Arsenal) showed up the referee as a complete divvy. And one of those yellows means that Vieira will miss the Liverpool game. Oh good.

I’ve got no problem with Villa the team. They played well. A compact midfield, a mobile defence and Dion Dublin scaring the piss out of Upson. They were good for their two goal lead at half time. Merson’s goal, a chip over Taylor, would have been even better if Upson hadn’t made a complete hash of the marking. And their second, a Steve Stone stab, was well taken considering that the fool Lauren headed the ball back into the area instead of getting it clear. In truth, Arsenal were lamentable in the first half. All the old cliches about spirit, commitment and basic skill were swilling around the old bonce.

The second half saw Upson mysteriously replaced by Keown and Ljungberg even more mysteriously replaced by the fourteen million pound turd, Silvain Wiltord. I was just going into my famous number about how Wiltord was really just a fourteen million pound turd (have I mentioned that?) when a bounced, deflected Parlour cross fell at Silvain’s feet and he lamped it in from just outside the area. Good goal and it made me look more than a little stupid.

After that it was one way traffic, apart from Villa just missing the upright. Keown had a fabulous downward header saved off the line, Pires went close and so did Henry. Henry’s first goal was a typical bit of poaching; a smartly placed shot that the keeper committed too early to. 2-2. We would have been happy with a draw. The ninety minutes were up. The part time Arsenal supporters were already on their way to Finsbury Park when a long ball though the middle found a galloping Henry. One on one a la Micky T, Thierry ran through and slotted the ball to the side of the keeper. Sweet moment as we wondered where the ball would end up- sweeter one when it went in. Henry wheeled away and ran down the front of the West Stand. For once the smile on his face was fifty foot wide. Good time to play your ‘get out of jail free’ card, we thought.

Terrific second half, forgettable first. Arsenal are very nearly back.

Man of the Match: Henry.

29.12.01

Arsenal 2 Middlesbrough 1

It’s so long since I’ve been at Highbury that I hardly recognised it. The famous Laundry End has now gone and the chaps no longer sport those fetching hooped socks or wear gallons of brilliantine on their hair. Bastin, apparently has packed his bags and one of fellows on the field seems to be sporting a red sock glued along his centre parting. What has the world come to? Actually, it’s only been about three weeks but it feels more. And not much has changed at all. Van Bronckhorst is still as lightweight as a dandelion, Kanu is still doing his impersonation of the main character from a ‘Nightmare Before Christmas’, Luzhny continues to base his distribution on the model used by the Post Office (you know the one- number 48 Acacia Avenue, Winchmore Hill gets all the post addressed to Prince Philip and Osama Bin Laden) and even more ominously, Wiltord is still in the vicinity of Highbury full stop. More worrying are the ten or more crosses that are pumped in from the wings every game that skitter through the opposing defences, just crying out for Francis Jeffer’s toe to poke them in. We just don’t score bundled goals anymore. Every one we score is a mini gem. It seems churlish to moan, but even a dweeb like me can work out the long term statistics of continually missing sitters.

There was enough of that in this game to get on your nerves and there was enough of that lassitude and incompleteness about the side to suggest that this will be the longest season ever. Vieira continues on auto pilot; one moment brilliant, the next lazily giving the ball away. Pires is still doing his fifteen minutes of graft, but as they are fifteen minutes of pure gold, we’ll let him get away with it. Parlour was absent with a dead leg, but Luzhny made up for it by having a pair of them. He deputised for the suspended Lauren- and as we aren’t great fans of Lauren he was missed as about as much as a gumboil. Martin Keown, strangely subdued since his return, partnered Campbell and Ashley Cole on the left had a bit of a smelly one. Henry still looked electric, but like a chastened dog not allowed on the furniture, still avoids running into the box.

Middlesbrough proved that not all clouds have silver linings. Deep brown shit skidmarks are more like it. Without doubt they are one of the poorest sides to trot out at Highbury. If they were any more ponderous or bovine they’d be grazing. Of course Arsenal made a right old meal of it. After half an hour of appalling passing and mindless head tennis Sol Campbell attempted a back pass to Taylor. So feeble and under hit was it that Noel Whelan, a player usually slower than a fucking glacier, was able to nip in and whack the ball past Taylor. Middlesbrough, who had been time wasting during the pre-match warm-up, went into reverse. You could almost see the laws of physics unravel before your eyes. So the match crawled to half time.

As the temperature at Highbury dropped through the bottom of the thermometer, Arsenal started flitting about a bit- albeit to little purpose. A ball hoofed into the ‘Boro area caused moderate havoc to the north west’s pump and run merchants. It came out, there was a bit of wilful obstruction on Ince or Eghoiu and the ball fell to Pires who was at least twenty five yards out. The looping volley caught everyone by surprise, but a beautiful parabolic drop fell smartly into the goal. Fat old Crossley barely got his lumpen plates off terra firma. Neat goal. ‘Boro though, went mad. They thought the game should have been stopped. Tough, nobody sympathises with us when the referees go mental.

Finally Kanu was prodded off with a cattle goad and Bergkamp came on. What a difference. There he was on the far right, just inside the Middlesbrough half, facing the North Bank. Inexplicably, Ashley Cole makes a run down the far left. Bergkamp looks up, punts the ball forty yards over the heads of probably eighteen players. Cole rushes in, heads the ball across the goal and is fortunate to get the angle; the ball goes in off the post. Fabulous goal.

The last minutes were always going to be hairy- but that’s the way things are at the moment. Not a great game, in fact, remarkably indifferent, but we’re winning and Dennis Bergkamp is looking like somebody should base a religion around him.

Man of the Match: Dennis Bergkamp. Have a look at that pass.