May 2001

5.5.01 Arsenal 2 Leeds 1

15.5.01 Newcastle 0 Arsenal 0

19.5.01 Southampton 3 Arsenal 2

5.5.01

Arsenal 2 Leeds 1

You forget that David O’ Leary used to be quite a nice bloke. Whether it was Davey blubbing after the Liverpool game in ’89 or Davey being mobbed by his Eire team-mates after scoring his only ever penalty in the World Cup (or anywhere) or being the Mr Sensible standing behind a barking George Graham, he always exuded a laid-back calm, a kind of mellow Irish gas, redolent of peat and Guinness. He was truly one of the nicest men in the world.

So, how did he turn into such a cunt?

Partly, it must be down to over compensating. Stepping into the shoes of beady-eyed George has probably excoriated completely the smiley bit of O’ Leary’s frontal lobe. Basically, the strain of managing what is looking increasingly looking like the Strangeways First XI has turned O’ Leary into an ugly hybrid of Clough and Ferguson, but without the acumen and suss. Having spent a couple of seasons watching this refugee from ‘the League of Gentlemen’ on the box whine, moan and condescend his way through numerous post match press conferences I am now teetering on the brink of kicking the fucking telly in- even if it’s a brand new 28" Mildscreen Holby Pre-Logic Thingy. Every week he comes up with some fantastical excuse justifying the perennial thuggish behaviour of his gang of ratboys, psychos, cheats and bullies. Only this week he was moaning that if the FA had any balls (but peculiarly, no spine) they would have cancelled the Arsenal game so Leeds could concentrate on winning the European Cup. This is fucking arrogance of the highest order. Why should we step aside so Leeds can have an easier time? He knew Arsenal would tell him to piss off so he ‘cleverly’ went to the press and started on at the FA. And then he has the temerity to call the Arsenal ‘bad losers’ and ‘whingers’. Name me the man who’s spent the entire season moaning that the bulk of his squad is in kit form on various treatment tables and that X referee is ‘unfair’ and Y referee is just blind? There’s kidology, grumbling and disenchantment and there’s David O’ Leary. One nasty bit of work. Yeah, we had people like him at school and invariably they went home tasting shoe. There you have it; David O’Leary, a man by forced by genetics to turn his nose up at everything.

And after this game, he was at it again, demanding a ‘trial by video’ of Martin Keown’s retaliation against Viduka. Actually, I’m all for a trial (the one in October looks particularly good.) So, if we’re going to play petty buggers let’s have the whole match as admissible evidence. Unfortunately the cameras probably never caught Viduka’s off the ball elbowing and obstruction of Keown or Bowyer’s constant fouling and the referee, a gelled milksop, saw nothing wrong with three over the top tackles by Bakke on Vieira in the first fifteen minutes of the game. But that’s Leeds all over, do it off the ball out of the line of sight of anyone adult and then whinge like the miserable dregs that they are when someone decides to clump them back.

Don’t underestimate the depth of feeling concerning O’Leary at Highbury. He’s probably as unpopular as Teddy Sherringham. Alex Ferguson may be a sour, sarcastic tick with a face like mottled fruit, but no-one can deny his success. But David O’Leary is just another jumped up bloke in a suit destined to be mentioned in the same breath as all the other crap Premiership managers: Smith, Gregory and that Panini sticker bloke at Chelsea.

If he ever returns to the Arsenal I shall personally burn my season ticket. (Or at least the red wallet that contains it. I like a empty threat, me.)

Still, I must admit that Leeds had one thing in their armoury that Arsenal lacked against Valencia; the long ball to the big awkward bloke up front. However, awkward bloke one (Smith) was replaced by nippy bloke one (Keane) and partnered by awkward bloke two (Viduka) or as the Clock End preferred to call him, ‘the fat Aussie wanker.’ Piercingly accurate description, I thought.

And the game. Engrossing, violent and fun to watch Leeds fall apart when somebody wouldn’t play their way ie. brutally direct and with adolescent temper tantrums. Most of the first half was Arsenal in a surprisingly determined mood; Ljungberg, Cole and Vieira in focused driving moods.

I spent most of the first half wondering how O’Leary gets special dispensation from the FA to be allowed to coach from the touch line. He spends most of the game pointing at the centre spot, raising his voice to squeak looking to the whole world like Postman Pat wrapped up in one of George Graham’s old overcoats. Tossbag.

Arsenal’s first goal resulted from an almost telepathic pass that from Henry that split the Leed’s defence enabling Ljungberg to squeeze into the narrowest of gaps and guide the ball into the net with the outside of his right foot. The most exciting shot of the first half again came from a deft bit of Thierry running, a whipped in cross from the right and a spectacular scissors volley that Nigel Martin pushed away at a stretch. Oh, you want to know who volleyed do you? Lee Dixon, of course. Who else.

Leeds had a much brighter second half. It’s a shame, but when they stop moaning, fouling and waving their arms around they’re a good side. Ferdinand, in particular looked class as did Harry Kewell, who spoiled it a bit by moaning and shrugging theatrically non-stop for ninety minutes; and they’ve got the cheek to call us whinging poms. Just as the Elland Road crew were finding their feet, Vieira slid forward as if on castors, slipped the ball to Wiltord, who, with his back to the goal, danced in a half circle, turned and let it fly. Nice goal. A scant two minutes later Leeds pulled one back from a Harte free kick. Seaman, in his usual free kick mode, never moved. The ponytail gave a limp flick and that was that. Bah.

Leeds hit the post after that and probably did enough for the draw as Arsenal disappeared into the Stupid Zone, right next to the Highbury Triangle. Why the Gunners never finish people off is a mystery to me.

Still, an interesting afternoon. Anticlimactic seasons probably don’t come much better than this. Champions’ League footy next year (albeit, at this moment, via the qualifiers) and the Welsh Cup next week. At the end the Arsenal boys did a strange ambling lap of honour; going around in circles waving and smiling a bit. Sounds exactly like the rest of the season to me.

Man of the Match: Ashley Cole for one amazing back headed goal line clearance. And all the other stuff.