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1996/97 (I don't care what it's called. Milk, Coke, Littlewoods or Anal Itch: deep down it's still the 'League' cup, okay?) 27.11.96 Liverpool 4 Arsenal 2
Stoke 1 Arsenal 1 Cup games, don't you just love them? Stoke eh? Pottery. Stanley Matthews. Red and white stripes. Betting supremo, Lou Macari. Steve Bould. Stanley Matthews. Er... Well, at least it's only one leg I thought. Trying to piece the game together from half a dozen newspapers and four or five 'phone calls was like being in a police incident room after a murder. No motive, but a least 22 bodies. The only bright spot seemed to be that Dennis Bergkamp's amazing hamstring, that seemed to take 3 weeks longer to heal than anyone else's, was being tested at the Victoria Ground. According to the one person I spoke to who was there, it was not a game that you'd remember on your deathbed. "They didn't look fucked." "Wrighty was up for it." "Hartson came on for Den. He looked alright." "Garde was on the bench." "We've sold Eddie McGoldrick to Man City." (YES!!) "It hot here, what's the weather like in Greece?" (Pissing down.) That was it. Back to Highbury in a couple of weeks. Man of the Match: Ian Wright.
Arsenal 5 Stoke 2 Three things were obvious about this game: 1. Stoke definitely had a plan. 2. The Stoke supporters were winding Ian Wright up something rotten. 3. It was colder than a polar bear's arse. As soon as the whistle went, Stoke were up for it. Playing with five strung across the middle they made it difficult for the flair players Vieira, Merson and Bergkamp to find any space. Bergkamp, in particular, looked miserable, probably thinking that this lot were Wimbledon in a different set of shirts. It rapidly looked like the kind of game made for the Hilliers and Parlours of the world; tight, middle of the park scrapping, lots of pointless running and milling around in little gangs of mates. Basically, the sort of game you played in when you were 10. Arsenal kept trying to thread the ball through the middle and Stoke kept picking it up. Inevitably, with the centre backs pushing up on the wings, Bouldy was caught out. Stoke ran up the pitch, pursued by Vieira, and the goal, when it came, a chip over Seaman, was well taken. Meanwhile, Wrighty was having some kind of war with the Stoke supporters. They booed and shouted at him and a bit of the more odious racial matter was obviously flying around in his direction. Then, quite gloriously, he ran onto a no-hope through ball from Dixon that was destined to go out of touch. Wrighty caught it just as it went over the touchline and booted as hard as he could into the Stoke crowd. Brilliant, and the ref. couldn't touch him. If they were worked up before, they were spitting now. Back on the park, Arsenal, somnolent and slow, were being run ragged by the efficient but unimaginative Stoke. We just wondered if Stoke would burn themselves out in the second half. After all, Arsenal were on the continental slow-burn grilled fish diet and Stoke were probably on some starchy cartilaginous gristle pie nosh. Maybe, we thought, we should be patient and wait for Wenger's culinary secret weapon to kick in. A couple of minutes to half time and Arsenal had not had a sniff of the goal. Bergkamp ran into the area and shielded the ball too well for the young Stoke number 3. A quick flurry, a falling body and Arsenal had a penalty. Wrighty placed it perfectly, mid upper left and it was 1-1. The Stoke supporters showed their appreciation of Wrighty blowing kisses at them by jumping up and down like that bulldog on the short leash in the Tom and Jerry cartoons. The frost had barely formed on the cups of half time Bovril, when Mr Wright whipped in a wicked cross, that found the ludicrous pumped up pigeon chest of Platty who manoeuvred the ball over the line with his sternum. 2-1. It was about now that the fish kicked in and Arsenal really found their rhythm. Stoke, by the way, full of mushy peas and gluey pies, did start to look a bit knackered by now. The next goal, a bullet header from Wrighty, just about finished Stoke off. Not long after it was Wright again who put a superb ball through to Bergkamp. This is one for the end of season videos; a shot that flashed across the diagonal of the area, giving the keeper nothing but recurring nightmares. Brilliant stuff. We were then treated to the incongruous sight of Wrighty and Arsene Wenger exchanging high fives on the touchline. Never saw that one with Rioch. A little while later and somehow Merson managed to bundle the ball over the touchline. 5-1. Stoke got one back and their supporters with scant minutes to go finally found a wellspring of humour by chanting, 'we're going to win 6-5'. A strange game. For much of the first half Arsenal looked lost, but Arsene's half time talk (available in three languages; French, English and Dutch) obviously had something in it. Wrighty is closing in on the all-time Arsenal scoring record (20 to go) and the rest of the team are looking like they believe in themselves. If we can survive the Month of Death (Man Utd, Spurs, Liverpool, Newcastle) then come May they may sell out of metal polish in the Highbury area. Man of the Match: Ian Wright, Wright, Wright.
Liverpool 4 Arsenal 2 Is there any point in reviewing this? We all know it's going to be the same old Anfield Crap Ref Story that's been playing to packed houses since Neil Ruddock learned to walk erect. It was a wonder that Arsenal got one penalty let alone two. Wrighty, to his credit, put both away with considerable aplomb. Their first two goals, a couple of sloppy buggers from old pig face, Robbie Fowler (bastard son of Arthur and Pauline) made Liverpool look sharper than they deserved. The Scousers also had a penalty, a completely accidental handball by Lee Dixon, that inexplicably only the ref saw as any kind of threat. Arsenal, looking below par and under strength, never really had the gumption to raise their game. Seaman was still out, Bergkamp had a thigh strain that pinged again in the warm-up and Merson played, but with a wicked dose of the squits. To make things worse, Uncle Bouldy was sent off for a couple of love taps of the scallies. The second, granted, was a foul, but the first was another example of blind, stupid refereeing. The sooner we get professional, accountable referees, the better. I'm sick and tired of some wanker from Milford Haven, or headmaster from Bagshot claiming their five minutes of fame. It's a professional sport; it needs professional sporting people, not some overweight, underachieving middle management failure whose main qualification seems to be a bossy disposition and a lack of hair. Tomorrow's newspapers will parade this dismal fare as a triumphant return of the Liverpool machine, but apart from Berger's goal, it was a dull feast. Arsenal, clearly suffering from post-scum euphoria, will have to raise their game for the match against Newcastle. Liverpool? If someone can occupy the middle of the park and be allowed to challenge them physically, one on one, without the benefit of overprotective referees, then they'll get a result. Were there any plus points for Arsenal? Well, at least we didn't lose 6-1 to a bunch of nut and bolt merchants like the scum did. Man of the Match: Ian Wright (16 and closing).
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