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JANUARY 1997 1.1.97 Arsenal 2 Middlesbrough 0 11.1.97 Sunderland 1 Arsenal 0
Arsenal 2 Middlesbrough 0 With the temperature at Highbury cold enough to crystallise the sphincter muscles, it must have seemed like a balmy autumn evening to most of the local ‘boro lads. Not that Middlesbrough have any locals playing for them. Amongst the tired, huddled masses of diasporic flotsam that constitute their team nowadays, was one Junhinho, covered from head to toe in what looked like a wooly body stocking. How he must have wished that he paid more attention in school when the subject of ‘Arse-Numbingly Cold Northern English Industrially Blighted Towns’ came up in the second year in Mr Biggs’ geography class. Middlesbrough, currently suffering some kind of injury crisis were forced to field 41 year old Bryan ‘Man of the Match’ Robson as a sweeper. To demonstrate how ‘hard’ he was he wore a short sleeve shirt. I ask you, a wind chill factor of -21 and the plonker’s got a t-shirt on. Wally. Arsenal started bright and breezy and soon warmed everyone up. Wright, Bergkamp and Merson looking particularly menacing. ‘Boro meanwhile did bugger all, apart from all their foreigners falling to the ground if an Arsenal player even breathed on them. Both the Arsenal goals came from ‘Boro defensive cock-ups. The first, a long ball over Wright’s head that somehow squirted sideways to Dennis Bergkamp, who tipped himself to the point of unbalance and put a beautiful, slow lofted volley into the side of the net from 25 yards out. Quality goal. Wright’s goal came from a failed ‘Boro clearance and with just him and Walsh in the 6 yard box, he tipped it to the goalie’s right and inched one goal nearer to Bastin’s record. 2-0. Half time was spent by the swaddled eskimo crowd in finding the nerve endings for toes and retrieving snapped off fingers from the inside of mittens. I had the dubious pleasure of drinking a half pint of magma that someone said was vegetable soup, burning my mouth black, yet not being able to feel anything below the waist. Bugger it was cold. During the second half we really should have finished it off, but the punishing Christmas programme was beginning to take its toll. Arsenal dropped down a gear and quite frankly Middlesbrough didn’t look arsed at all. Ravanelli (One of Chico’s old sobriquets. In fact ‘Boro would make a wonderful Marx Bros act: Ravo, Emo, Juno and Robbo) decided it was time to fall down in the only part of the pitch that he hadn’t tried ie. The Arsenal penalty area. The way ‘The Grey Fox’ conned his penalty was shocking. At least the wanker hit the bar. Good. That was it really. Bergkamp came off, Hartson came on, got booked, got booked again and was sent off. It was all a bit of a mystery. Maybe, he called the ref an ‘icehole’. With Liverpool losing to Chelsea, Arsenal are right back in the hunt. We now spend a month playing Sunderland. Happy new year. Man of the Match: Paul Merson. (12 and counting.)
Sunderland 1 Arsenal 0 Can things get worse? Knowing Arsenal the answer is definitely, yes. Ostentatiously, with the return of Seaman and Platt this should have been an easier game for us. The Sunderland fans were in great spirits, despite their team having the sort of injury crisis usually reserved for plane crashes and foggy motorway pile ups. Keegan, having jacked in the Newcastle job a couple of days earlier had the Roker crowd in fine voice: ‘Keegan’s on the dole’ to ‘Football’s Coming Home’ being just one of the ditties that was actually repeatable. Arsenal actually looked sharp enough at the beginning of the game to swing this one. Sunderland, ravaged by the little chronicled, eighth plague of Egypt, looked a bit clueless. However, all that changed when the referee, Mr Riley (I don’t think he had a Christian name, or a birth certificate) decided to red card that well known football hard man ‘Dirty Den’ Bergkamp. It was a bit of a rocky old tackle and the follow through was a bit nasty. But, a red card? Leave off. Perhaps refs have a FIFA directive to redress karmic balances. Certainly, when Arsenal played Sunderland in the league and they had two blokes sent off it was a bit harsh. Kismet. A ten man Arsenal against an enthusiastic, though somewhat aimless terrier pack like Sunderland was always going to be uphill. Platt went close as did Bouldy, but their keeper, Perez, was there to make a couple of smart saves. You just knew that when a goal came it would be something embarrassing. Ord crossed, Adams stretched and managed to toe it just beyond the grasping Seaman. Bollocks. And don’t believe what you read; it was Tone’s foot, not his head, that put it in. So, it’s back here on Wednesday for the last part of this grizzly 15 day trilogy. Harston is suspended, as is Wright, so up front is going to be as packed as a Moscow meat counter. The real bummer, though, is that if we lose on Wednesday, then Bergkamp will definitely be suspended for the Spurs game. Man of the Match: Paul Merson.
Arsenal 3 Everton 1 The best thing about the first half was the giant red and white blow up sausages that the Daily Mirror were handing out in the street. Once inflated they proved to be nifty light sabres and excellent projectiles for lobbing at Nev ‘The Dosser’ Southall. One enterprising lad even spent most of the half trying to push over the SKY telly wooly microphone. Top lad. You can’t beat something large, wobbly and full of air when the game’s a bit slow. But enough of Neville Southall. Everton are probably the biggest enigma in the Premier League. Chock full of smart players, they consistently underachieve and disappoint. Today they pressed well and generally bossed the middle in the first half, whilst The Arse looked weird, with the newly returned Ian Wright looking well out of sorts. Just before half time Wright was struggling with what looked like a muscle pull. He didn’t come out for the second half, but Wenger’s shuffling of the team was masterful. Dixon came on and slotted into his familiar right back role, Parlour took the wing and Keown, who for the last couple of games has looked like the ghost of Jeff Blockley, was finally relieved of the onerous task of watching Parlour’s arse and could get on with what he’s good at; giving Duncan Ferguson’s probation officer another headache. Oh, and Splatty was stretchered off, letting the highly interesting youngster Stephen Hughes on for his second game in a week. The second half was everything the first wasn’t. Merson was magic, Den colossal and Tone at the back (his 500th Arsenal game) was excellent. Parlour and Vieira dominated the middle and our full backs were completely pukka. Den’s goal, a typical bit of class, was a right footer across the area, drilled beyond the lumbering Southall. The second, about two minutes later, was a belter from Vieira, hit from that position where he usually sides it to Wrighty. The third, came from Everton getting badly caught in possession, Den running down the wing, hitting it square at the diving Southall, getting the rebound and somehow squirting it to Merson, who hit it in from about a yard. And all this was done at speed. Cracking. Everton looking lifeless, could only manage to get Ferguson booked for studding Keown in the chest and a stilted consolation goal in the 90th minute when the boys’ were clock watching instead of number 9 watching. All this and a couple of breathtaking moves; a wonderful chip from Merson that Southall miraculously spirited into touch and a Merson miss that even Mother Teresa would have buried. What a wonderful afternoon. On the way home I passed a group of Everton supporters, pissed out of their heads, wandering around Highbury Fields, singing, ‘We’re lost and we know we are.’ Sums it all up, really. Man of the Match: Paul ‘Magic Man’ Merson.
West Ham 1 Arsenal 2 Poor old Harry Redknapp. The last time I saw a look like that on a face was when ‘The Boyos’ took Bob Hoskins for a ride at the end of ‘The Long Good Friday’. The man has the whiff of death about him. That sick wildebeest at the back of the herd is definitely called Harry. Part of the problem is that every time Harry goes on a golfing holiday of Portugal, instead of bringing back the usual sardine scaler or crate of vinho verde he troops home with some ersatz waiter called Paulo or Dannio and sticks them in the team. No one understands them, they play like dogs and their attempts to do a footballing lambada are roundly sniggered at. Obviously, West Ham have a bit of a problem. This match was a couple of days after West Ham were knocked out of the FA cup by a last minute Wrexham goal. Having direct experience of last minute Welsh flukes I suppose some sympathy should have been extended to the Hammers; but fuck ‘em, it’s only West Ham. They are looking particularly bad at the moment; toothless and inept. And that’s just Ian Dowie. Arsenal started the game sans Platt (injured), Bergkamp (suspended) and Keown (likewise). Wenger had decided to stick with Stephen Hughes upfront instead of Hartson and bravely had put Matthew Rose in the middle. Wrighty seemed to have recovered from his muscle pull and the whole team, though a bit unbalanced, looked quite fresh compared to the claret and blue dogs of war. From the off Arsenal looked the better bet. After only eight minutes Ray Parlour latched onto a long pass, ran past the diseased animals doing the Hammers’ defending and stuck it past Ludo. Easy. A rare goal from ex-hammer fan Ray, even if all his goals look exactly the same. Weird. Merson again was masterful. At one point he ran across the pitch, Dix trailing (sounds a bit unerotic) and just as the bald brummie was about to tap him, lofted the ball sidewise over Dix and Ludo and managed to bounce it off the bar from about thirty yards out. Splendid. That really was the pattern for the game; Arsenal went forward and West Ham tried to stop them. Apart from one blinding West Ham shot that Seaman appeared to save with his face, that was it for them. Their goal coming from a rare bit of pressure ended up being put past Seaman by a diving Matthew Rose. Another good own goal by the Gunners. West Ham perked up a bit then, but really lacked the fire power to push the game their way. Ian Wright had a bit of a sod of a game. Frequently out of it, he roamed around looking a bit forlorn. It wasn’t until late in the game when Merson spotted him making a run that he received a lovely ball from the magic man, about yard in front of him, ran onto it and coolly put it through Ludo’s legs. The old one two. And that’s how it ended. Arsenal now spend a week percentage playing Leeds and unpicking old George’s defence stratagems. Man
of the Match: Paul Merson. (Wrighty closing).
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