Ally
Active Member
Chelsea 1 (Terry 79) Arsenal 3 (Terry OG 24, Wiltord 33, Lauren 83)
Maybe I should explain the ‘Hearts 4 Hibs 4’ syndrome. With a minute of injury time left in the Edinburgh derby on January 2nd, Hibs led Hearts 4-2. In 42 seconds, Hearts scored twice to level the game. Not significant to last night really, but it did teach me a permanent lesson; never, ever, ever to take anything you’ve got for granted. Especially when you’re down to ten men and being pelted by the opposition with 20 minutes left. Ouch. It would have been a lot different if Chelsea had kept up their barrage from the first 10 minutes - or would it? A makeshift defence performed immaculately in impossible conditions in front of a goalkeeper improving at an incomprehensible rate; however there was a scare, mercifully brief but enough to scare the cr*p out of me, frankly...
Chelsea’s start was startling in it’s sheer speed - Cygan and Toure were clearly being targeted, largely without success due to some well marshalled closure led by Sol Campbell, apparently playing through the pain barrier. We knew Chelsea’s strategy, very predictable without their wildcards Gronkjaer and Zenden, and for once the luck was well and truly in; Zola never got going and the absence of the little genius left the Blues with minimal creativity and spark, relying instead on the fire of Petit and whatever it is that Lampard provides. To be fair, the decision to utilise wing-backs seemed quite astute, leaving three in the middle of defence to completely neutralise Jeffers and Wiltord. At the other end, Hasselbaink wasted a sugar coated chance off a corner on two minutes - the theory tells you that a header down with a firm connection can be pretty well unsavable - not when you head it straight down at a 90 degree angle so that it bounces over the bar at such height that some guy in row Q has to duck frantically. Aye, he should have scored, but any post match inquests were more on why Chelsea had failed to organise themselves on Arsenal counter attacks than the profligate frontmen. Perhaps there’s some evidence that one man to patrol the midfield can be infinitely more influential than a deadly striker over the course of any given 90 minutes - especially when you’ve got Pires and Wiltord running at you, from an opposition point of view.
Chelsea lack a bona fide Vieira (who doesn’t?) - they have some guy who apparently played alongside him at some point, but honestly, who do they think they’re trying to kid? Bringing in an impostor, a shadow of his former self, with short hair. Pull the one with bells on. Sorry. Am I really turning into a Chelsea apologist? The truth is that after the first game, I was raging. I was looking for a reason, any reason why we could win the replay sans penalties. Now, I’ll repeat myself, I was strutting around, winding up my Chelsea-supporting pal and generally thinking about our superiority with a second string line-up against a team coming off the back of a pretty sensational result. The truth is, I couldn’t really figure out what or who was the difference. Actually, that was a lie. Was this guy really unable to get a game for AC Milan? Is he really unfit? Was he really a doubt until half an hour before kick off? Above all, how did we ever manage without him?
He’s also a bit useful going forward, too. With the first sojourn into the Chelsea half, Wiltord picked up an Edu header, ran without any obstruction or challenge and flicked Vieira in to his right. Unseen and uncredited, Jeffers made a brilliant swerve across two defenders, momentarily throwing both Gallas and Terry off the scent. Paddy drilled a cross-shot across the six yard box, where returning at the near post was the Chelsea captain Terry to stumble into the ball and emphatically thump it past his own keeper. A bit of a travesty in truth, but I’m not proposing to feel guilty or anything. We’ve been on the wrong end of too many for that.
Chelsea were staggered and never regained their rhythm. The previously lethal goal threat fizzled out shabbily, although Taylor had to pull off one adroit save from a deflected Hasselbaink blast - for a giant he’s agile and posseses surprisingly elasticity. He gets better and better and better and I actually don’t have anything more to say on him, except he’s going to be world class one day. With 20-odd years ahead of him, everything looks superb.
When the pressure’s on, not only does your list of essentials need to include one quick, powerful defender, one awesome holding midfielder and one pacy striker who will finish given the slightest hint of an opportunity - it needs the patience to absorb urgent opposition attacking and wait for just the right moment to pounce. An innocuous looking gain of the ball way out on the touchline ended up in another craftsmen’s counter attack. Vieira glided away, again with no attempt to tackle despite a huge number of blue shirts around him. Picking his moment, he flicked Wiltord in for a brilliant, wonderful trademark goal, tucked into the eye of a needle at Cudicini’s near post.
Everything was going swimmingly. Half time came and went and was basically an excuse for raucous celebration, mixed with a very slight suspicion of relief - how on earth were we beating Chelsea so easily?
The second period began identically, with Chelsea hacking ou a number of half chances; Petit tried a spectacular overhead kick which took an awkward bounce and reared up in front of Taylor who adjusting his body mid-dive palmed away. Hasselbaink picked his spot in the top corner and didn’t miss by much, and Gudjohnsen was the victim of a highly questionable offside call which chalked off a seemingly fine volley.
But of course, something has to go wrong. Just when it was beginning to look comfortable, Chelsea having pretty much run out of ideas, the otherwise excellent Cygan miscontrolled a horrible Edu lash back to him, Hasselbaink thundered in and crashed to the turf under a tug to the shirt. Having been booked earlier, the card changed to a red and some hasty tactical adjustment was made - Gio replaced Franny, with Toure shifting to centre back.
Overall though, the expected barrage never came. We played ten minutes with no threat at all, and then suddenly Terry stooped to connect with a Hasselbaink cross at the right end and suddenly it was 2-1 and things looked bleak even with a goal advanatage. Again though, Chelsea lacked the necessary commitment and drive to profit.
Immediately, Lauren (Having just been booked for timewasting) sauntered down the wing, cut inside Zenden and again with no challenge, leaned back and on his left foot (Aye, you did read that right) cracked a wonderful shot straight into the corner of the net despite the brush from Cudicini’s fingertips. The euphoric celebrations - I’ll never get tired of saying this - showcase what we stand for, what this competition means to us and what the team spirit is within the camp.
There was still time for Taylor to make a superb double save, first from Hasselbaink and then from Gudjohnsen with his legs, but the game was won, we’re through and surely we’re going to Cardiff.
This was a clash between the two knock-out specialists of the English game - the two legs were both stunning games of football, played with passion, flair and grit - in the end, Arsenal won because of Patrick Vieira. Nothing more, nothing less.
Everything clicked into place last night, as it did at Old Trafford - I suspect we’ll be too good for Sheffield United when we meet in April at the same venue. You’ve got to feel confident, you’ve got to. You’ve also got to sit back and savour our football, appreciate the effort by a pool of players who ran themselves into the floor and get ready for the run-in. The treble’s dead of course - the double double....you never know. 1971. 1998. 2002...2003?
Man of the Match
You know, I want to give this to Sol, to Lauren, to Kolo, to Taylor and to Cygan despite the dismissal (It was a dive, anyway). I can’t, no matter how hard I try, take this one away from Patrick Vieira who gave one of the greatest performances from any Arsenal player in recent years.
Moment of the Match
Vieira beating four players for skill, holding off another two for strength and winning a throw, all without breaking out of first gear.
Moan of the Match
No-one likes a pedant. No, really.
Ally Winford
*There are two kinds of celebration. One type comes from relief and wild jumping about ensues. The other comes from knowing that you’re the best - you sit there with a warm, happy glow. Last night, we got both. The first initially, with the second kicking in later. Absolutely magnificent.*
Maybe I should explain the ‘Hearts 4 Hibs 4’ syndrome. With a minute of injury time left in the Edinburgh derby on January 2nd, Hibs led Hearts 4-2. In 42 seconds, Hearts scored twice to level the game. Not significant to last night really, but it did teach me a permanent lesson; never, ever, ever to take anything you’ve got for granted. Especially when you’re down to ten men and being pelted by the opposition with 20 minutes left. Ouch. It would have been a lot different if Chelsea had kept up their barrage from the first 10 minutes - or would it? A makeshift defence performed immaculately in impossible conditions in front of a goalkeeper improving at an incomprehensible rate; however there was a scare, mercifully brief but enough to scare the cr*p out of me, frankly...
Chelsea’s start was startling in it’s sheer speed - Cygan and Toure were clearly being targeted, largely without success due to some well marshalled closure led by Sol Campbell, apparently playing through the pain barrier. We knew Chelsea’s strategy, very predictable without their wildcards Gronkjaer and Zenden, and for once the luck was well and truly in; Zola never got going and the absence of the little genius left the Blues with minimal creativity and spark, relying instead on the fire of Petit and whatever it is that Lampard provides. To be fair, the decision to utilise wing-backs seemed quite astute, leaving three in the middle of defence to completely neutralise Jeffers and Wiltord. At the other end, Hasselbaink wasted a sugar coated chance off a corner on two minutes - the theory tells you that a header down with a firm connection can be pretty well unsavable - not when you head it straight down at a 90 degree angle so that it bounces over the bar at such height that some guy in row Q has to duck frantically. Aye, he should have scored, but any post match inquests were more on why Chelsea had failed to organise themselves on Arsenal counter attacks than the profligate frontmen. Perhaps there’s some evidence that one man to patrol the midfield can be infinitely more influential than a deadly striker over the course of any given 90 minutes - especially when you’ve got Pires and Wiltord running at you, from an opposition point of view.
Chelsea lack a bona fide Vieira (who doesn’t?) - they have some guy who apparently played alongside him at some point, but honestly, who do they think they’re trying to kid? Bringing in an impostor, a shadow of his former self, with short hair. Pull the one with bells on. Sorry. Am I really turning into a Chelsea apologist? The truth is that after the first game, I was raging. I was looking for a reason, any reason why we could win the replay sans penalties. Now, I’ll repeat myself, I was strutting around, winding up my Chelsea-supporting pal and generally thinking about our superiority with a second string line-up against a team coming off the back of a pretty sensational result. The truth is, I couldn’t really figure out what or who was the difference. Actually, that was a lie. Was this guy really unable to get a game for AC Milan? Is he really unfit? Was he really a doubt until half an hour before kick off? Above all, how did we ever manage without him?
He’s also a bit useful going forward, too. With the first sojourn into the Chelsea half, Wiltord picked up an Edu header, ran without any obstruction or challenge and flicked Vieira in to his right. Unseen and uncredited, Jeffers made a brilliant swerve across two defenders, momentarily throwing both Gallas and Terry off the scent. Paddy drilled a cross-shot across the six yard box, where returning at the near post was the Chelsea captain Terry to stumble into the ball and emphatically thump it past his own keeper. A bit of a travesty in truth, but I’m not proposing to feel guilty or anything. We’ve been on the wrong end of too many for that.
Chelsea were staggered and never regained their rhythm. The previously lethal goal threat fizzled out shabbily, although Taylor had to pull off one adroit save from a deflected Hasselbaink blast - for a giant he’s agile and posseses surprisingly elasticity. He gets better and better and better and I actually don’t have anything more to say on him, except he’s going to be world class one day. With 20-odd years ahead of him, everything looks superb.
When the pressure’s on, not only does your list of essentials need to include one quick, powerful defender, one awesome holding midfielder and one pacy striker who will finish given the slightest hint of an opportunity - it needs the patience to absorb urgent opposition attacking and wait for just the right moment to pounce. An innocuous looking gain of the ball way out on the touchline ended up in another craftsmen’s counter attack. Vieira glided away, again with no attempt to tackle despite a huge number of blue shirts around him. Picking his moment, he flicked Wiltord in for a brilliant, wonderful trademark goal, tucked into the eye of a needle at Cudicini’s near post.
Everything was going swimmingly. Half time came and went and was basically an excuse for raucous celebration, mixed with a very slight suspicion of relief - how on earth were we beating Chelsea so easily?
The second period began identically, with Chelsea hacking ou a number of half chances; Petit tried a spectacular overhead kick which took an awkward bounce and reared up in front of Taylor who adjusting his body mid-dive palmed away. Hasselbaink picked his spot in the top corner and didn’t miss by much, and Gudjohnsen was the victim of a highly questionable offside call which chalked off a seemingly fine volley.
But of course, something has to go wrong. Just when it was beginning to look comfortable, Chelsea having pretty much run out of ideas, the otherwise excellent Cygan miscontrolled a horrible Edu lash back to him, Hasselbaink thundered in and crashed to the turf under a tug to the shirt. Having been booked earlier, the card changed to a red and some hasty tactical adjustment was made - Gio replaced Franny, with Toure shifting to centre back.
Overall though, the expected barrage never came. We played ten minutes with no threat at all, and then suddenly Terry stooped to connect with a Hasselbaink cross at the right end and suddenly it was 2-1 and things looked bleak even with a goal advanatage. Again though, Chelsea lacked the necessary commitment and drive to profit.
Immediately, Lauren (Having just been booked for timewasting) sauntered down the wing, cut inside Zenden and again with no challenge, leaned back and on his left foot (Aye, you did read that right) cracked a wonderful shot straight into the corner of the net despite the brush from Cudicini’s fingertips. The euphoric celebrations - I’ll never get tired of saying this - showcase what we stand for, what this competition means to us and what the team spirit is within the camp.
There was still time for Taylor to make a superb double save, first from Hasselbaink and then from Gudjohnsen with his legs, but the game was won, we’re through and surely we’re going to Cardiff.
This was a clash between the two knock-out specialists of the English game - the two legs were both stunning games of football, played with passion, flair and grit - in the end, Arsenal won because of Patrick Vieira. Nothing more, nothing less.
Everything clicked into place last night, as it did at Old Trafford - I suspect we’ll be too good for Sheffield United when we meet in April at the same venue. You’ve got to feel confident, you’ve got to. You’ve also got to sit back and savour our football, appreciate the effort by a pool of players who ran themselves into the floor and get ready for the run-in. The treble’s dead of course - the double double....you never know. 1971. 1998. 2002...2003?
Man of the Match
You know, I want to give this to Sol, to Lauren, to Kolo, to Taylor and to Cygan despite the dismissal (It was a dive, anyway). I can’t, no matter how hard I try, take this one away from Patrick Vieira who gave one of the greatest performances from any Arsenal player in recent years.
Moment of the Match
Vieira beating four players for skill, holding off another two for strength and winning a throw, all without breaking out of first gear.
Moan of the Match
No-one likes a pedant. No, really.
Ally Winford
*There are two kinds of celebration. One type comes from relief and wild jumping about ensues. The other comes from knowing that you’re the best - you sit there with a warm, happy glow. Last night, we got both. The first initially, with the second kicking in later. Absolutely magnificent.*
