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OCTOBER 1996 12.10.96 Blackburn 0 Arsenal 2
Blackburn 0 Arsenal 2 I saw this one in a bar in southern Crete. To be fair the locals seemed more interested in Pantythingnikos, or whatever, but all the local olive pickers, goatherders and the millions of people all called 'George' all stopped and put down their rakis when the name Ian Wright was mentioned. One quick goal from Wright that sweetly bent around Flowers and a stunning second where Wrighty strode through the Blackburn defence like the Terminator. And the ball from Vieira was a bit special. Blackburn, looked horrible. Ten blokes trapped in a nightmare, who've just woken up to find the goose that lays the golden goals has been spirited away by some bloke called Kevin. If that last sentence doesn't make any sense, I don't care. It's four in the morning in Crete, sun comes up at seven and if I drink any more lager my stomach will need a ball cock. After the nice weather girl in the mini skirt told us that tomorrow was 'scorchio' the Greeks, bless 'em, put up something that looked like a league table. Not seeing too well I failed to find the Arse. A nice man from Liverpool pointed out in his cheery scouse way that we were top. TOP OF THE LEAGUE. In the morning I'll wake up with a head the size of Finsbury Park and a tongue like a week old flapjack, but I don't care. SAY WE ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE, WE ARE TOP OF THE LEAGUE. Man of the Match: Ian Wright.
Arsenal 0 Coventry 0 My wife hates it when you go to a travel agents clutching a fixture list. But Arsenal vs Coventry has to be my favourite fixture to miss. I hate Coventry. The place itself is a sad collection of pissed on concrete and placcy shop signs. At Highfield Road I've seen some of the worse games of my life. So having to miss the annual 0-0 with Coventry didn't seem too bad. And of course, the chaps had promised to write a proper match report and not take the piss like they usually do. Of course, they didn't write anything down, we've tried that one before and it was a disaster. Here are their comments: "It was great game. You missed a blinder." (Translation: It was cack. It was Coventry.) "Stunning. For a 0-0 it had everything." (Translation: It was cack. It was Coventry.) "Wrighty broke Mr Potato Heads nose. Fuck him, he's 90% cartilage anyway." (Translation. We should have had a penalty. Oggi Grizzleitch stuck his flat hooter where he shouldn't.) That was it, apart from my mum who thought Arsene Wenger, 'seemed like a nice man.' Man of the Match: Everyone said Wrighty.
Arsenal 3 Leeds 0 I thought Leeds looked quite sharp during the minute's silence. They were tightly controlled, showed a lot of composure and kept their formation well. As soon as the game started they went downhill. George brought his Sunday league side down the M1 a day early. After the first whirlwind goal, the Clock End were gleefully singing, 'Georgie, get your cheque book out'. And what a goal. Vieira ran the length of the pitch, kept going when he had no right and crossed it. Den dummied it and Dixon, who had been tracking Vieira on the other side of the pitch, sided it in sweetly. Five minutes gone. 1-0. Leeds on their way out. The second, a nice return for Bergkamp to Highbury, came a few minutes later. Arsenal, who fielded what looked like a full strength side, were awesome at times. Everyone got forward, particularly Bould and Adams who both found themselves running with the ball from midfield at certain times during the game. Platt seemed to click (only one 'Pratt' kick) and Merson looked unknockable off the ball. Wright and Bergkamp combined sweetly, the centre backs looked like shit house doors and Keown chopped, sliced and blocked. Wenger has said that he prefers orthodox wingers, but Dixon and Winterburn are really having an Indian summer. Dixon in particular looked very sharp. Vieira, however, was on a different pitch. Pacey, legs like a spider on steroids and an awareness of his team mates that was spooky. Maybe it was a fluke, but the way he controlled the midfield was stunning. 'Allez Les Rouges', said the jumbotron. Hear, hear I say. In the second half, it was more of the same. Wrighty finally got the goal he'd been threatening. A simple cross and Ian basically just ran it into the net. 3-0. Garde, finally came on, but didn't make that much of an impression. One for future, methinks. Leeds? Well, that question mark is going to follow them all season. The bloke who sits next to me reckons George would have been better off going to Man City. They were clueless, even worse than Blackburn. Lee Sharpe's journey over the Pennines has obviously taken a lot out of him or perhaps that 'mystery' illness of his has reoccurred. (Like Andy Cole's 'shin splints'. The libel laws of our sceptered isle prevent us from saying any more.) Final whistle and the other Premier League score start trickling in. Wimbledon draw. Newcastle lose to Leicester. The Scum go down at Chelsea. And Southampton put SIX past Man Utd. What a blissful afternoon. The sun even shone. Bring 'em on, bring 'em all on. Arsenal are top of the pile and will stay there even if Liverpoo put a dozen past Derby tomorrow. Bliss. Postscript: The minute's silence was for Matthew Harding, the Chelsea vice-chairman who died in the week in a helicopter crash. Football can ill afford to lose men of his calibre and commitment. The arsholes who ruined the silence were ejected from the ground. Good. Man of the Match: Patrick Vieira
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