Shit. Where to start. Erm… it’s not often I come straight
from the game to write a blog, I often have time to digest, analyse and
hopefully offer a reasoned, rational point of view. But here I am, only 20
minutes after full time with a blank page to fill about a game we have just
totally, fuckably, messed up. Yes, I feel so bad I just made up new word. Put
fuckably in your Urban Dictionary you urban twats.
Hello new readers from Newsnow. Welcome to CannonSense.
So, what do we make of that?
Well, first of all, what a first half. One of the best team
performances of the season so far I would say. Completely in control, passing
it about like a dream, scoring a lovely first goal through Nasri, and a
lovelier second goal from Chamakh, the perfect half in almost every sense.
The first goal owed itself to just a little fortune to
begin with. Nasri was put though wonderfully by Cesc, the Frenchman
mis-controlled the ball when one-on-one with the keeper, but Gomez’s nose
knocked the ball away from himself and Nasri latched onto it at the tightest of
angles. He managed to roll the ball goal-bound with enough spin on it to make a
square shot bounce back on itself and into the goal. A truly brilliant finish
from a man in fine form. And coming only nine minutes into the game, it was the
perfect start.
In short, we went on to control things, Sp*rs had pockets
of pressure but little else, and then when one of their attacks broke down we countered in 12
seconds to put ourselves 2 nil up.
With Thierry Henry in the crowd, it was almost a goal in
homage to the great man himself. A swift break like the ones he used to
capitalise on so often when he was a Gunner. (yes I know he still is at heart).
After playing it out of defence, Cesc took control in
midfield, shifted it out wide to Arshavin, who put a dangerous ball across the
Sp*rs penalty area for Chamakh-my-bitch-up to prod home. A lovely goal that put
all Gooners in a land of loveliness for half time. Seriously, everything felt
so good with the world. My slightly flat pint suddenly developed a bubbly fizz,
the annoying Sp*rs fan behind suddenly seemed far less annoying and far more
comical, Ian Wright’s hat made me giggle rather than think ‘What a prick!’. It
was great…
Then… then came the second half.
It’s weird really because it seemed as if not that much
football was played in the second half. Obviously it was, but for all those who
are crowing about how awful Arsenal were in the second half, it’s difficult to
put a finger on why. We weren’t being comprehensively outplayed or anything
like that. We just suffered at the hand of a few big incidents.
The first coming early in the second half when we seemed to
forget Gareth Bale was playing, which is understandable I guess given his first
half (non)performance. Indecision at the back meant that we didn’t clear our
lines, Bale wasn’t properly tracked, and when the ball broke to him one-on-one,
he slotted in their first goal.
Poor defending, but a goal I always expected. To expect a
clean sheet from Arsenal these days is to expect to be sectioned.
The first few minutes after their goal Sp*rs were naturally
buoyed, but I thought we responded well to that. We took back control of the
game and my suddenly diminished confidence started to grow again, I really
thought we’d get a third.
Then, what I think to be the key factor of the game
happened. Phil Dowd-syndrome gave a very soft foul against Song, and from the
resulting free-kick Cesc Fabregas, stood in the wall, inexplicably raised his
arm to block it and concede a penalty.
Seriously, what the fuck was going through his mind? I
really don’t understand it. It’s the sort of mindless action I’d expect from
Eboue (god bless him), Denilson (when he’s off form) or, or, well to be honest
I don’t know who else would do such a stupid thing. But Cesc… Cesc? There was
just no need!
Up stepped Rafael Van de Vaart to make it 2-2 and be the
second Sp*rs player to have a gash game but get on the score sheet.
Now, I’m not one for blaming an individual for a loss like
this… it was certainly a collective capitulation, and so I’m not going to put
the defeat wholly at the feet of our captain. But I do genuinely believe that
had they not been gifted the chance to draw level like that, the game would
have ended so differently. We were getting back into our groove after they had
pulled a goal back – it felt like a third goal was coming. And then that. THAT!
It was so unnecessary, so stupid, and yet ultimately so pivotal in how the rest
of the game was played out.
(**CannonSense takes a break to go and drink some strong
Belgian beer with a rather fine lady**)
...
(**CannonSense returns**)
Having said that, we really didn’t do much in the second
half to warrant us scoring a third goal. I said I felt it was coming before
Sp*rs equalised, but in terms of real chances after that, not much was created.
Fabregas curled an effort that was pushed away by Gomez’s nose, Koscielny
missed a right sitter of a header, but apart from that there wasn’t much
happening of note. We had a goal disallowed for offside, but for once the
decision was the right one.
Now, forgive me at the this stage for getting the order of
events mixed up, but I can’t remember whether the above chances came before or
after the third Sp*rs goal, such is the wallow of self pity I’ve drank
myself into at this point.
Anyway, Sp*rs' third goal duly came. A free-kick was
whipped in and the otherwise god-awful Kaboul headed in. Devastation and
despair. That was to condemn us to our third defeat at home.
A massive second
half collapse that is so hard to explain.
Football really is strange sometimes. And it’s the mental
side of it that is so difficult to understand. Why can a team rip another to
shreds in one half, yet be totally unable to replicate their play in the other
half? How one goal can change attitudes, affect ability, it baffles me.
Yet we
saw all of that today. Credit (*cough*) I guess to Tottenham who must have had
a real bollocking at half time, and responded. But really, what couldn’t we do
in the second half that we did in the first? A strange one indeed.
And so what is it with this team fucking up when we’re in
such a good position? This was a chance to go top of the league for fuck’s
sake!
We all know it’s not ability that is hampering us. We have
it in abundance. Physical strength? Nope. This wasn’t a physical game at all, and
it had no bearing on the result. Mental strength? Well, you’d say ‘yes’ that’s
exactly what it is, but then you look at away results against the likes of
Wolves and Everton, where our mental strength was lauded.
Concentration? Maybe. Complacency? Maybe again. But it’s all
stuff we should have learned from time and time again. So an inability to learn
from mistakes? That’s nothing new, but plays a massive part. On the whole
though I can’t easily identity where the real problem lies.
I will say it again… had Cesc not raised his arm, I think
we’d be talking about a different result altogether.
BUT, I’m not going to be abusing Cesc for his actions
anymore that I already have. And I certainly won’t be joining the hoards who
are jumping to condemn Koscielny and Fabianksi. We collectively threw this game
away.
And to be honest, I really feel sorry for Wenger. You could
see his pain on the sidelines, and he must feel really let down by his players
this evening. He’s had a tough few weeks and a big win over big rivals would be
just the tonic for him. Yet having put ourselves in such an amazing position to
win the game, we really fucked it up for him, for ourselves for everyone
related to the Arsenal.
Gutted.
Anyway, I’ve gone on with myself far too much now. Time to
give it a break and try and enjoy the rest of my Saturday night. It looks like
Birmingham has done us a favour. But in truth, that just makes today’s loss all
the more frustrating. We could be sitting prettily at the summit right now. No,
we SHOULD be sitting pretty at the summit right now. But we’re not, we’re left
lamenting another game thrown away.
To end on some sort of positive note though, despite all
this, we’re still well, well in the mix for a shot at the Premier League title.
How many more chances we’ll miss to really get a grip on it I don’t know. But right
know – it’s still all to play for.
Innabit.