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MAY 1997
Arsenal 0 Newcastle 1 Funny bird the Magpie. Famed for its love of bright, shiny objects, it frequently would steal them away back to its nest. You begin to see a link to Newcastle’s supporters. Certainly, when the Arsenal ladies displayed their league championship trophy at half time, it was the Geordies who applauded louder than anybody. That was probably the only trophy they’ve seen all season. So what happened? Where did that runners-up spot go to? To tell you the truth, Arsenal have just run out of steam. The whole game was a rerun of the Blackburn game; enough chances to finish it early, but not enough suss to finish it completely. It’s no coincidence that our brightest players were also our youngest: Vieira, Anelka and Parlour. Their running and awareness showed up a few of the old stagers: Wrighty (off his head), Merson (off his game) and Platt (just offull). Bergkamp tried his best, but as we all know of late it’s open season on Den; any fool can foul him mercilessly and get away with it. It’s not as if Newcastle were that splendid. Their defence, for instance, is a bit shocking. Elliot can’t make up his mind if he wants to be a midfield player or not, Beresford is a lumpen journeyman and Peacock is a grisly Pikey hybrid of Glenn Cockerill and Terry Hurlock. Incidentally, out of all the many bookings, Peacock should have been one of the first into the book. If he wants an Arsenal shirt that much, perhaps he could leave off pulling Bergkamp’s. Me and the lads would be delighted to have a whip round and send him one. Newcastle up front weren’t that clever either. Ferdinand, forced into the hole behind Shearer, has turned into a surly toad. He looked well out of sorts. ‘Tino’, head of the Medina cartel is as much use as a guide cat for the blind and Shearer, well, what can you say about a man who sits on the right hand of God or a least ‘Glen?’ I’ll tell you what you can say. How about, ‘Fuck off, you cheating bastard?’ Shearer has elevated himself to that wonderful rarefied plane that used to be inhabited by Gary Vinegar. He’s allowed to back into people, tug shirts, tap ankles, dive all over the place and give Alex Ferguson a run for his money in the moaning stakes just because he’s a national institution. I seem to recall that every time Alan Smith did what Shearer does that the play would stop and the other mob would get a free kick. How times have changed. Arsenal lost Big Tone at half time, his face all squashed and bleeding, his ankle, definitely not up to it. Indeed, Arsenal lost a lot of their heart in the second half. Wright and Bergkamp floated around, Parlour, on for Adams, looked surprisingly good, Anelka, on for Platt, looked terrific and Vieira pulled all the right strings, but on the wrong puppet. It wasn’t our day. Newcastle, if they win their remaining fixtures can finish second. It looks like a consolation UEFA spot for us. If someone had told us at the beginning of the season that we might finish fourth, qualify for Europe and have the team looking better than in years I would have painted my arse blue and white, walked backwards and called myself Gerry Francis. But like always, the Arsenal have exceeded expectations, raised hopes sky high and then failed to deliver. Still, there’s always Sunday week. As Rodney Trotter said, ‘I’ve got the right hump. I’m going to find a little bloke to hit.’ Let’s hope it’s Derby. Man of the Match: Patrick Vieira.
Derby 1 Arsenal 3 The Derby fans started off enjoying this one. This being their last game at the Baseball Ground, they jumped up and down, tore up their programmes and scattered them to the four winds and sang rude songs about Nottm Forest. They went a goal up within ten minutes, Tony Adams was sent off, we found out that Forest were four down to Newcastle and then it was our turn to sing rude songs about Nottingham. Derby are no pushovers this season. There’s something horribly resolute about them at the back and something dangerously nippy at the front. We all remembered that amazing Wanchope goal against Man Utd. Still, not yet half time and if we wanted to get anywhere near that runners-up spot we would have to bang in at least five; it didn’t look that brilliant. Nearly everyone in the ground seemed to be listening to a match somewhere else. Derby, safe from everything, had a fairly unhealthy pre-occupation with Forest’s plight; every Newcastle goal was greeted with cheers. Arsenal looked a bit shagged. Of late it has been increasingly difficult to get the old bones into gear. But being reduced to ten men didn’t help one iota. Adams, sent off for two bookable offences, just marched down the tunnel and didn’t look back. Wright, even though he managed two opportunistic poacher goals, looked well in need of a rest. Everyone else just looked like they had played one game too many. In the middle we were functional; you know, like when you have to go to work after a night on the piss. Bergkamp, however, still looked class. His goal, a chip/lob/lift from an acute angle will be one to watch on the end of season video. Just so it doesn’t appear that we are complete miserable fuck-pigs, let’s just say that Nicholas Anelka was quite superb. He has a great touch, doesn’t get shaken off the ball and he can shoot. A cross between Smudger and John Hartson but with a touch of the Tony Woodcocks. Can’t wait for August. So, we finish third. I, for one am delighted. Some of the others think that the European Champions’ Cup will be the poorer for our absence. Nah, leave off. Let Newcastle potter around in all those terrible preliminary rounds, playing teams like Narvik, Archangel Academicals and Young Boys Wank 55. Let them get shown up for the one-trick pony we all know they are. That’s it. Good season. Next season more of the same. Man of the Match: Nicholas Anelka.
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