Something changed

As my mind raced through the early hours of this morning, still high on a buzz of Guinness, an Arsenal hotdog and an unforgettable climax to one of the best games of football it's ever been my priviledge to attend at the Arsenal, I had two opening sentences to this blog in mind. Neither of which was the sentence you have just read. As I sit here banging away, my great opening has eluded me. What I guess I wanted to say is that Arsenal, by general consensus, had yet to enjoy a really great night in the north London enormodome. Last night, that changed on an evening that our detractors, and even some of you here, told us, told me, just wasn't possible.

Arsenal? Beat Barcelona? Never in a million years, these people crowed. It wasn't supposed to be this way, Arsenal were not supposed to concede a goal midway through the first half, ride out the Barcelona storm and then show the kind of guts and quality to turn a one goal deficit on its head. But, by God, we did it and, the sheer effrontery of it, we did so playing the way we want to play. Not the way that people told us we should play, if only our players had the tactical discipline to master parking a bus on the edge of the eighteen yard box. Perhaps it had been lost just how weakened the Arsenal side were when the teams met last season and just how much they have improved since then.

And I guess that's epitomised by the fact that the two players who best embodied our sheer refusal to go away last night were two players who were not at the club when we met last season. Well, one of them was, but he'd been lent to Bolton to prepare him for this most impressive of breakthrough seasons. So, that's be Jack Wilshere then. Faced with his biggest test of the season so far, likely the best players he will ever play against, he was immense. Strong in the tackle, disciplined, aware and intelligent, it's so easy to forget that this guy is just nineteen years old. Behind him was a man faced with a man regarded as the best player in the world. But Laurent Koscielny was absolutely magnificent in all he did last night and if that performance doesn't persuade any doubters, then I'm not sure what will.

It was just over a year ago that I first met Chris, as he joined James and I in the Twelve Pins befor our home match against Manchester United and that was a game none of us would like to remember. When we met up in the same pub last night, before heading over to the stadium, I felt cautiously optmistic about our chances, the differences in Arsenal between then and now so obvious now. Those of you following me on Twitter, or read what I had to say on Tuesday, will have known that. I don't think I was in the minority either. James certainly seemed to think we had a chance, although none of us were actually shouting about it. Eventually, one bottie burp too many from someone who wasn't owning up and we decided to finish our Guinness outside and then head to the stadium. Gooner? Purchased. Programme? Purchased. I wouldn't usually buy a programme, but last night felt like, it could be, well like it could be historic. Cards? Green light. Stairs to the upper tier? Negotiated. Toilet? Eventually. Hotdog and then we were in and in just in time to catch the end of that magnificent pre match montage, which never fails to get the blood pumping. As long as I've actually made it in time to see it.

Flags aloft, we welcomed the players onto the pitch and I have to say that, from the back row of the Clock End upper, the sight of the flags pulsing throughout the stadium was a sight to behold. The noise deafening. Arsène had replaced Arshavin with Nasri voluntarily, the inclusion of Eboue enforced as a result of Sagna's suspension. We had a better start, a much better start, than the one we had last year. We had much more of the ball and Barca weren't carving us open at will. Despite that, we seemed to be lacking a bit of penetration and, annoyingly, support for the flank runs of Nasri and Walcott. So when Walcott got sent through but a bit wide of the goal, rather than get in on goal he had to wait for support and then hit a chipped cross across goal, to nobody in particular. Barca were a bit more threatening with their movement. Messi got sent through, dinked the ball over Szczesny but just wide. And of course, they had their goal, Villa beating the offside trap, one on one there was only ever going to be one winner and Barca took the lead. It looked offisde from the other end of the ground, a feeling enforced the lack of a big screen replay. James mum, however, texted to say that it was a good goal. She texted him, obviously, not me. We did get the benfit of the linesman's flag when Messi headed a rebound home, only to be flagged off.

We seemed to working spaces around the area quite well, but just failing to make the final ball. Or perhaps the ball before the final ball. Barca were also defending really well, helped by a referee who seemed inclined to give them every 50/50 and some that weren't even 50/50s. Half time came around quickly and it was a strange feeling. As I remarked to James, I didn't feel we were out of it, I just couldn't see where the goal was coming from. Prophetically, he replied that he'd felt exactly the same last year.

Although we had played the role of the cowed novice to the same extent as we did last year, I do think we'd still given them a bit too much time to play with in the first half. A van Persie shot from distance was the first warning that perhaps things were going to change as Barca tired, the noise grew and the pressure increased. Arshavin replaced Song and then, as the minutes seemed to tick down as if on fast forward, Bendtner replaced Walcott. The changes seemed to disrupt us a little bit, but Guardiola removed Villa, as he had done so with Ibrahimovic last year and I just wonder now if we sensed our moment had arrived. Although I also remember thinking at the time that, however the game finished, I would always remember this night with fondness- the players trying their hardest and the crowd right behind them. Soon I knew I would remember this night with a little smile on my face for the rest of my life.

Clichy moved forward down our left and played a lovely little pass into the penalty area to van Persie. Almost without thinking, it seemed and before I had had the chance to complete my "What is he doing shooting from there?" thought, his left foot rocket had flown inside the near post, dipped under Valdes hand and we had our equalising goal. A pretty noisy Arsenal crowd, a crowd that had stayed with the team throughout, erupted. Just minutes later, Fabregas released Nasri down the right. As Nasri ran wide of the goal, with everyone urging him to run at the thing, I thought the chance had gone. Nasri's cutback across the goal found Arshavin right on cue and he arrowed a Píres style shot past the keeper, past two defenders and into the corner of the net. You're lovin' him now, aren't you? Aren't you?

I'd love to tell you about the team celebrations at this point, but I can't because Chris grabbed me from one side, James grabbed me from the other and nearly dragged me over the seats, into the two guys in front of us. I managed to, just about cling on, screaming, we hugged some random strangers and got on with the business of exhorting our team through the final minutes of the match. I will have a video up on my Twitter page, if you can excuse my hoarse, out of tune "singing"... It could have been better, Arshavin and Cesc broke through in a repeat of the move that killed of Ipswich, but the Russian just overhit his pass. That said, Szczesny had to stand tall on his near post to deny Barca a late equaliser and then react with speed to deny Dani Alves a free shot at goal. Two and a half minutes of injury time, negotiated and we had our first win against Barcelona after however many attempts.

I know that, as Cesc said afterwards, it is just half-time. And I know that Barcelona will strongly fancy their chances of turning the tie around at home. But I don't care. On a night like last night, you begin to think anything is possible. And maybe it is. There will be no Silvestre to pass the ball to Messi on the edge of our box, no Almunia (God willing) to kneel before the sheer majesty of Messi- look see that big netty thing behind me? That's the goal, have at it! More importantly, perhaps, there is an Arsenal side with a real foothold in this tie and, perhaps crucially, the belief that they can go and finish the job out in Barcelona.

There really is nothing to be scared of.

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