London Calling

 

Ok, sorry it’s a bit of a long one this week, but then again I’ve been to three games and done over 2000 miles so…

Fulham.

A week of travel starts here…

Couldn’t get away until Saturday morning and had to be back Saturday night so a day trip on the train was the only way I was going to get to Fulham and back.  Normally I don’t go to the away games south of Birmingham but I decided to make an exception this time.  Not really sure why to be honest because it was probably the worst time to add a day trip to London into my itinerary but what the hell…it’s not like I’ve ever pretended there was anything sensible about me or football fans in general!

To be honest it was one of those days when you wake up and everything just feels like it can only go well – and for once it did!

I walked down to Newcastle station (well I only had a light bag and it is all downhill!) and after as pleasant a stroll as you can have through the West End of Newcastle I was at the station.  Stocked up for the journey and the train pulled in just as I walked to the platform.  So I jumped on and there were (unusually) so few passengers that for once there was plenty of space (it turned out there were two trains for London leaving within 15 minutes of each other and everyone seemed to have got on the first one…except me and a few other stragglers).  Got to London bang on time and a Fulham supporting friend of mine called Cabel (don’t ask me!) was there to pick me up on his bike, and he took me to his place in Fulham (very swanky) where his missus had lunch waiting for us.  I’m not used to this before a game (more a bagel and a brandy) so it made a nice change.

Now whilst Cabel is a very close friend neither of us were very keen on spending too much time with an opposition supporter so close to the match so we set off on the five minute walk to the ground after eating (and making our excuses!) and were there before two.

The press tend to slightly romanticize Craven Cottage and for once they’re justified.  Despite the changes in recent years it’s still a little ground by the river that looks completely out of place in this Premiership ‘Greed Is Good’ era.  It’s hard (for me anyway) to get worked up about playing Fulham as I would any other London derby – but that’s probably as much to do with the fact that until the last few years they hadn’t been in the same division as us since I was in nappies!  I wasn’t alone in that feeling as many people seemed to see this as a trip to a poor relation rather than a competitive sibling.

So which Arsenal was it to be today – the Madrid version or the Bolton version?  Fortunately it was the Madrid one (albeit after a slow start).  Actually, that’s slightly unfair because despite the defeats this season there haven’t been that many we’ve actually deserved to lose.  This performance was superb though!  Fulham helped by generally playing football rather than the rugby-type tactics that most teams employ against us, but that shouldn’t take away from our performance. 

When the second goal went in there was no way back for them and we all knew it.  Seeing our captain having to separate two of their players as they went off at half tine gave me a warm glow (and admittedly a little giggle as well).  Later Titi played it down with ‘these things happen and anyone would have done the same’ type comments.  Not true (I mean how often do you see team-mates on the verge of coming to blows?), but it’s an absolute credit to the guy that he refused to make an issue of it in any way.

The second half was a stroll in the park (or cottage!).  ‘Can you hear us Real Madrid’.  ‘Have you ever seen Chelsea play like this?’  Just two of the chants in the second half, accompanied by much banging of metal ‘walls’ and stamping. 

4-0…nice.  Met up with Cabel after the game and all he wanted to know was how come we hadn’t won every game this season if we could play like that.  Now there’s a question I’d love to be able to answer in one sentence!

Got to Kings Cross just in time for my train, and although it was fairly crowded for once my reserved seat was a reasonable one (ie without complete numbnuts nearby!) and a few beers eased the journey home!

Manchester.

Drove over Sunday morning to spend a day with my daughter Gina.  With it being Sunday I was treated to a superb Sunday dinner after which we just stayed in and chatted (which was fortunate because I was completely stuffed!).  She wasn’t working Monday so we went to an outlet village to do some shopping.  Why mention all this?  Well we were in an adidas shop (she does like her trainers!) when something caught my eye.  Went to investigate and it was the ’89 (Anfield!) away shirt.  I was gob smacked for a minute but at the back of my mind something nagged.  Then suddenly it hit me… the shirt was an exact reproduction with JVC and all the adidas logos, but no Arsenal badge!  It’s part of their retro range and it’s called the ‘JVC Shirt’.  Mind you it was half price so I got one…it’ll be one to wear when the mickies come to visit on Sunday!  Actually I think Gina may be a bit of a bad influence on me – I only intended to buy a pair of strides and ended up buying half a wardrobe worth of stuff!  Ho hum!

Madrid.

Wednesday – so it must be London.  Got the train down and George met me at Arnos Grove tube.  Went back to his to relax a bit pre-match.  George wasn’t going to the game because he’d done something that in all honesty I could not have done – he was letting his brother have his ticket!  Andrew (his brother) isn’t in the country very often so it was probably going to be his last chance to see a game at Highbury, but all I can say is he’s lucky George is his brother and not me or he’d have watched the game in the pub!

We’ve been knocked out of Europe on away goals enough times for me to know well enough that the job was nowhere near finished yet but I was confident from the moment the draw was made so 1-0 up after the away leg there was no reason not to stay confident.  I got to the 12 Pins early and Mac was there looking as though we’d just lost.  As sure as I was that we’d win, he was that we’d lose!  So I told him how the game was going to go (couple of early goals – Madrid fall to pieces – we score eight (finally!)).  Not altogether sure he believed me but I think the sheer stupidity of my prediction cheered him up if nothing else.

Jinxy (aka my brother Carlos) couldn’t make it (another good omen) and we were soon joined by the smiling face of Ebz, who was technically using his ticket even though he ended up in the East Stand and Dr Dom sat next to me.  The good doctor used to live in Newcastle and for a couple of years we travelled to away games all over the north together.  It’s actually difficult to find someone that you can cope with for a few hours alone in a car before and after the game – not to mention during it – but we’re still good mates and it was nice to share a game like that with him (mind you it did seem a bit strange to have him sat next to me at Highbury!).

The weather was a typically rainy cold spring day in London, but fortunately one of the things I had bought in mancland was a parka kind of thing so I was well insulated against the weather (although looking left or right was difficult).  In fact it was so miserable (weather wise) that we didn’t even bother looking for the o2 girls. 

What a match!  In the middle of the second half I turned to Dom and remarked that it was more like a basketball game than football.  To be honest I don’t think goals could have made the game any more exciting than it was because it was always on the edge.  And I think the 1-0 aggregate is a credit to two keepers who were both outstanding for 180 minutes.  Casillas kept them in it during the first leg, and although he made some outstanding saves in the second game as well he was eclipsed by one save Jens made from Raul.  You know the one – after they hit the post and Raul shot.  That save was on a par with the one Spunky made against Sheffield in the semi a couple of years back and must rate as one of the best seen at Highbury.  I mean you have to watch it a couple of times even to figure out what he’d done.

But for one moment during the match Freddie gets my MotM.  Running to charge down a Roberto Carlos free kick he flung himself feet first and legs akimbo in front of the shot.  There was a picture of him in one of the papers the next day just as the ball hit him and let’s just say he put everything on the line for The Arsenal…

(As an aside we had a pair of ‘precious’ supporters sat in front of us.  We’re at a football match against Real Madrid in the Champions League and the bloke actually turned round and asked Dom to stop shouting!  Methinks this guy usually watches his football at home with the sound off so he doesn’t hear common people.  Well I’m sorry but there’s only one answer to a prat like that and Dom sang loud and proud for 90 minutes.)

I can’t describe the feeling as the whistle went.  It was just so Arsenal to be totally written off and then play 180-odd minutes against Real Madrid without conceding.  Then the scores came up from the other games and we knew that we were the last English team.  Well I guess I was the first to put two and two together and seconds later everyone had joined my lone cry of ‘One Team In Europe’.  Back to the 12 Pins and all the talk was about who we’d draw next.  As always there’s a split between people wanting the easiest draw and those wanting the best trip, although no one seemed overly keen on a trip to Barcelona for some reason. 

We had a few drinks then all headed off.  I had to go back to Wycombe where I had to sign some papers in the morning and after that it was back into London and another train back ‘oop north’.  I was still grinning when the train pulled into Newcastle.  Stopped grinning when I realised I was in Newcastle though.

Alan Pardew and Gordon Taylor tried to rain on our parade by decrying the lack of English players in the team and questioning whether we should celebrate Arsenal as an English team.  Foreign players blah blah blah.  Well M Wenger put Pardew in his place beautifully in his press conference (something like ‘When he asked about taking Aliadiere on loan he didn’t ask about his passport – only if he was any good’) but he kindly left me Taylor.

What a gimp that Taylor is. Covers it really.  (Not as eloquent as Wenger I’ll admit but then again if the FA were going to charge me with ‘Bringing the game into disrepute’ I think they’d have had me twice a week for comments about inept officials).  Highest paid Union boss in the country with one of the lowest memberships.  Players pay something like £75 a year and the rest of their funds (which they do seem to like to spend on expensive artwork for their headquarters these days) come from US.  Yup, the supporters, by way of levies on tv deals and such like.  He pontificates on anything and everything and will defend the indefensible at the drop of a hat.

Don’t get me wrong – I fully support the concept of the PFA and they do a lot of very good work for lower league players especially.  It’s Gordon Taylor I (and to be fair virtually every football fan I’ve ever discussed him with) have a problem with.

Newcastle.

Friday.  The draw for the next round.  11am start so I had the radio on at 10 to.  Sat down all relaxed with a cuppa to hear the draw but remembered all the bollocks they have at these draws when the radio presenter said the actual draw was due at 11:48!  Oh well, few things I needed so I nipped to the corner shop.  Guy asked me who we’d drawn in the next round and I said that it hadn’t been drawn yet.  11am he said and I knowingly said about all the bollocks they have before the draw and he said he’d forgotten about that.  Ahem.

Anyway, finally, after a further hold up because some bint passed out on stage they finally got to the draw.  ‘We always seem to be one of the last teams drawn’ I was thinking, about a second before we came out of the hat first!  Then…Juventus!  Vieira!  Jeez – I’m going to Turin.  To be honest it was only about an hour later I realised I had no idea at all about the rest of the draw!  Another massive draw, and not that I bear a grudge or anything but we still owe them quite a few kicks from the 1980 ECWC semis, particularly the home one.  Not to mention nicking Chippy!  Arsenal v Juventus.  Wenger v Capello.  Vieira v Fabregas.  Blimey – I guess this is going to be a big one then!

Liverpool.

Well, I’m sure you understand that with a few thousand Scousers turning up at Highbury I decided to train it again.  Actually, I had to go down Saturday because a friend of mine was leaving the country soon and was having a leaving do on the Saturday.  I say ‘had to’ because he’d moved it from the week before to make sure I could go!  If I could remember much about it then I’d tell you but fortunately (!) I can’t.  Ahem.  Don’t remember anything.  No sir, not me.  What I do remember was getting in at around 6am and waking up at 11 not feeling my liveliest! 

One thing I do remember from Saturday was that Chelsea beat the spuds, which left me with slightly mixed feelings as whilst helping us it also put the league out of reach.  I know that it is just a technicality the way this season has panned out, but never the less after the last few seasons its strange being in mid March and out of the chase.

Oh well – trained it into London and was up at Highbury before 2 (with my new ‘JVC’ top).  Nipped up to the box office to drop my application for Old Trafford tickets and then off to the 12 Pins for a livener.  Met George up there and we headed off to the Gunners pub where he was meeting Martin.  Respect to Martin, who comes over from Estonia whenever he can afford it to watch Arsenal.  With comparative wages and stuff it’s not that often but one trip a year to Highbury probably makes as much of a dent in his finances as a whole season of travelling away does to mine (Ok I’m obviously exaggerating but I’m sure you get the point I’m trying to make). 

Well, all kinds of fun and games.  There’s a little bar opposite the Gunners (The Cannons) and the whole area was flooded with riot cops.  Thought it a bit strange as it doesn’t usually go off against Liverpool, well not these days anyway.  So I asked a (non-helmeted) copper what the score was and it turned out they’d raided the pub and were searching everyone on the way out.  Unfortunately that was about all he seemed to know as every other question (like why?) was met with a resounding ‘Dunno’.  I thought of really straining his brain by asking him which way up was but decided against it and with the old bill moving people on from outside the pubs (which is where most people drink on match days!) we decided to go into the ground early.  Mind you, I was so knackered that sitting rather than standing seemed a wonderful idea.

Cesc Fabregas is getting better and better every time he sets foot on the pitch.  I said at the start of the season that one of the reasons we had to sell Vieira was to give this guy the midfield.  A lot of people (understandably to be fair) thought I was over hyping the kid but this is one kid that you can’t hype too much.  I’ve watched all the kids come through since the Irish triumvirate of Brady/O’Leary/Stapleton and Cesc is the best one we’ve brought through since then.  By a margin.  To be honest, age for age he could be better than Brady, and believe me that’s something no one that had the pleasure of seeing Chippy play would say lightly.  

Whilst Henry will get the plaudits for his goals (and what an excellent assist from Gerrard!) it was Fabregas that was running the game from start to finish.  That one pass to set up the first goal was just sheer perfection – it would have almost been rude for Titi to have missed!  It’s almost like time slows down for him when the ball gets to him, and then speeds up again as soon as he’s passed it on. 

‘Liverpool, hoof the ball’ just about sums up the way they play (and have been since Houflier – sorry Houlier – was manager) but when they equalised (er, what about the blatant foul you muppet ref) it seemed like another game we’d controlled could slip away.  3-0 would have been a much fairer score than 1-1 and the roof nearly came off when Titi scored the second (did I mention the beautiful inch perfect pass from Gerrard?). 

Make no mistakes this result was absolutely vital.  We can’t afford to drop points and whilst some people are joking about how great it would be if we finished 5^th and the spuds 4^th but us winning the Champions League (which would dump them into the UEFA Cup) as far as I’m concerned that’s cobblers.  We must finish top 4 regardless of what happens in Europe because apart from anything else you can’t pin your hopes on a cup.  I’ve believed all season that we would win the Champions League but for a start off I don’t want to see a league table with them above us.  It’s just so completely wrong!

Anyway, another couple of drinks after the game (in the Cannons – solidarity brother!), and various chats about plans for Turin.  From memory there’s absolutely nothing to do in Turin midweek and it’s not exactly a glamorous city to visit so I’m thinking of getting in and out as soon as possible.  I’ve been there a couple of times before (I actually worked there for a while years back) so it’s not like it’s a new place to go and explore.

Oh well, another couple of drinks at Kings Cross and it was back on the train to Newcastle (which is where I’m finishing this).  Just stopped at Peterborough and about 20 young ladies have just got on so since the timing is so perfect I’m sure you’ll excuse me if I end it here for this week…

Come On You Red(currant)s!