Ally
Active Member
Arsenal 2 (Henry 50, 62) Manchester United 2 (Nistelrooy 25, Giggs 63)
My generation, apparently, don’t know they’re born. We don’t know the advantages we have over some previous era. ‘My day’, I think. What I do know is that when you get an advantage, you f**ing well grab hold of it, take the initiative and never, ever give it up without some serious fight going on.
We blew it. No, I don’t care that both our goals were completely farcical in one way or another. I don’t care that Thierry Henry was approximately three hundred feet offside. The goal was awarded by referee and linesman. It shouldn’t be a matter of cordially surrendering your advantage within 70 seconds. If that Manc equaliser turns out to be the difference between all and nothing...I shall not be a happy camper. No, sir.
Maybe I’m doing Man Utd a gross injustice. Two shots on target, two goals. Nice. They thoroughly took us out in the first half, offering up 45 minutes that were a pretty good reversal of the decider last year - we were abysmal going forward, and one defensive lapse ruined an otherwise admirable display at the other end. Even that’s easily attributable to a sublime piece of offensive manoeuvring by a cheat, who ruined a fine goal with the usual disgusting showing of throwing himself to the deck whenever the slightest chance to do so came about.
I don’t intend to go into detail about the first half; it wouldn’t make for pleasant reading and I can’t pretend to be all that bothered anyway. I’ll palm it off to someone else to write a dry, factual analysis, because there was no emotion in that half as far as Arsenal fans are concerned. Our attack was not functioning, being under heavy pressure from Campbell and Brown. Up front wasn’t where this one was going to be won or lost - there was an almighty war going on in midfield, Ferguson having sacrificed Beckham for an extra striker and switching from his preferred five in the middle set up and going all out for goals. Vieira and Gilberto looked to be getting the upper hand, but then Vieira limped out of things after half an hour and Silva offered up a passable impression of being a complete liability to the cause. Edu came on to shore things up, and did well, but this was after Man Utd had worked a notable strike to give them a lead that looked more and more unassailable as the game wore on.
It was some counter-attack, actually. Some neat interplay saw van Nistelrooy skip away from a mistimed Campbell challenge, bear down on Taylor and chip him as the keeper went to ground. At half time, the only positive was that their best player, O’Shea, was subbed off mysteriously for Gary Neville - a move that proved crucial to the equaliser when the game finally kicked into gear shortly after the restart.
Everything was all a little too subdued for a game of such high billing, a testament I suppose to the effectiveness of the visitor’s tactics, but 5 minutes in, Ashley Cole got a break and some space, Neville having been drawn off and out of the play by a diagonal run from Freddie Ljungberg - his drive was going wide until it hit Henry on the knee and skimmed between Barthez’s legs. Bizarre goal, but oh yes, what a celebration. Can you get that many people piled on top of each other without serious health risks being posed to the people at the bottom? The **** were rattled, unable even to find anything but touch with their punts out of defence - advantage was swiftly taken with no consideration for rubbish officiating, coming at the right end for once. Someone hit a speculative ball right down the middle in the general direction of Henry - a hasty, spur-of-the-moment idea that wasn’t very well thought out, seeing as Thierry was two or three yards offside.
The flag stayed down. Henry sent Barthez the wrong way and threaded the ball inside the post for his second. Pandemonium, which was soon to be followed by downright hilarity as we got a glimpse of the replays. This was, in short, the most blatant offside that I think I’ve ever seen, but coming in a game like this I don’t think anyone was left harbouring a guilty conscience or anything. Not that there was time to consider the moral implications of such comedic going’s-on at one end.
Straight from kick-off, Solskjaer collected the ball on the right wing at the corner flag, and curled a delicious delivery right to the far post where Giggs rose, headed down and scored despite Taylor getting both hands to his effort. The defending wasn’t on. Not only was it not on, but it wasn’t there either. Seaman would have saved it. It’s too harsh to blame Stuart, because he doesn’t make many blunders, but in the search for a scapegoat there might well be some flack being hurled his way. If you feel a burning need to have someone to vent any spleen you’re wanting rid of at, try Gilberto or Bergkamp, who were chiefly responsible for our moves breaking down.
I couldn’t tell you if I’m being too harsh or not, because this game was very, very emotional, a veritable rollercoaster. Some of you might know about my disgraceful barrage of abuse that was being hurled at Parlour during the cup final (“Sell him! SELL HIM!!!”) because at the time I didn’t think he was playing well. Watching a game is actually a really dodgy way of assessing any individuals’ contribution, but it remains my only option for commenting on the performance of anyone that needs analysis. So if Bergkamp is given man of the match in all the papers tomorrow, I apologise and will readily get down on my knees, oh master. As it is, I was really, really disappointed with him tonight.
Wiltord came on and didn’t touch the ball, and Kanu entered proceedings as a third striker for Pires, but two minutes later found himself in a makeshift defensive midfield position to compensate for a contentious red card which I naturally think is very, very harsh. Bringing the ball out of defence, with Solskjaer on his heels, Sol went to push the Norwegian out of the way, and seemingly caught him with an elbow. On the linesman’s advice, Halsey sent Campbell off. The replay showed that there was a hand thrust into Ole Gunnar’s shoulder, but no more.
Now, I will be accused of hypocrisy (I seem to remember saying that Totti had to go because his hands were raised) but this seems ridiculous - the linesman was actually quite right to take the action he did, because from his viewpoint it looked like a definite elbow. Other angles threw a less sinister light on he incident. This one has to be overturned, it has to be.
Gilberto dropped to partner Keown at the back for the final five minutes that weren’t as desperate as we were expecting - the Mancs didn’t really seem too concerned with going for a third. Presumably they’re confident enough of their ability to win this championship anyway. After tonight, so can we be.
Thierry had one last opportunity to win the game, connecting well on a thumping volley which Barthez saved with his legs. But by then the majority opinion in the pub was that we were happy with a draw. I was bucking the trend here - we had the lead, then threw it needlessly away, so why should we be content? Granted, the performance was superb n the second half, but in the first we were being given a lesson in how to use the football, and that’s cause enough for concern on my part.
I couldn’t tell you who’s going to win the league. We’ve taken the momentum out of Man Utd’s run-in, and it’s in our hands. This is the closest contest since 1989, and I intend to enjoy it no matter what misgivings I may have. Because you know something? Despite all the doubt, possible permutations, theorising and predictions, I have a feeling. Just a feeling. That feeling aside, is anyone up for tossing a coin to decide matters this campaign?
The double’s on. Still on. And while it is, let’s be confident. Because if you can’t be confident in a situation like this, why don’t you just go and follow a rugby union team instead? This is what it’s about, and we’ve had the privilege to see it. We’ll see it through, too. Come on Arsenal - I believe in you. We believe in you.
Man of the Match
Got to be Henry. Reason? ‘Cos the man’s a god.
Moment of the Match
The whistle to start the second half and usher in the finest 45 minutes of football since we beat Villa 3-2 in 2001.
Moan of the Match
Horse face - f*ck off. You’re not wanted.
Ally Winford
** You’ll remember my dismal ranting about how I couldn’t stand it any more, how my world is falling apart, how I couldn’t sleep, how the apocalypse is nigh...We didn’t win, but I feel good. Frustrated, of course. Mildly angry that we couldn’t hold our lead that may well have seen us top now. Despite that, rock on gooners. **
My generation, apparently, don’t know they’re born. We don’t know the advantages we have over some previous era. ‘My day’, I think. What I do know is that when you get an advantage, you f**ing well grab hold of it, take the initiative and never, ever give it up without some serious fight going on.
We blew it. No, I don’t care that both our goals were completely farcical in one way or another. I don’t care that Thierry Henry was approximately three hundred feet offside. The goal was awarded by referee and linesman. It shouldn’t be a matter of cordially surrendering your advantage within 70 seconds. If that Manc equaliser turns out to be the difference between all and nothing...I shall not be a happy camper. No, sir.
Maybe I’m doing Man Utd a gross injustice. Two shots on target, two goals. Nice. They thoroughly took us out in the first half, offering up 45 minutes that were a pretty good reversal of the decider last year - we were abysmal going forward, and one defensive lapse ruined an otherwise admirable display at the other end. Even that’s easily attributable to a sublime piece of offensive manoeuvring by a cheat, who ruined a fine goal with the usual disgusting showing of throwing himself to the deck whenever the slightest chance to do so came about.
I don’t intend to go into detail about the first half; it wouldn’t make for pleasant reading and I can’t pretend to be all that bothered anyway. I’ll palm it off to someone else to write a dry, factual analysis, because there was no emotion in that half as far as Arsenal fans are concerned. Our attack was not functioning, being under heavy pressure from Campbell and Brown. Up front wasn’t where this one was going to be won or lost - there was an almighty war going on in midfield, Ferguson having sacrificed Beckham for an extra striker and switching from his preferred five in the middle set up and going all out for goals. Vieira and Gilberto looked to be getting the upper hand, but then Vieira limped out of things after half an hour and Silva offered up a passable impression of being a complete liability to the cause. Edu came on to shore things up, and did well, but this was after Man Utd had worked a notable strike to give them a lead that looked more and more unassailable as the game wore on.
It was some counter-attack, actually. Some neat interplay saw van Nistelrooy skip away from a mistimed Campbell challenge, bear down on Taylor and chip him as the keeper went to ground. At half time, the only positive was that their best player, O’Shea, was subbed off mysteriously for Gary Neville - a move that proved crucial to the equaliser when the game finally kicked into gear shortly after the restart.
Everything was all a little too subdued for a game of such high billing, a testament I suppose to the effectiveness of the visitor’s tactics, but 5 minutes in, Ashley Cole got a break and some space, Neville having been drawn off and out of the play by a diagonal run from Freddie Ljungberg - his drive was going wide until it hit Henry on the knee and skimmed between Barthez’s legs. Bizarre goal, but oh yes, what a celebration. Can you get that many people piled on top of each other without serious health risks being posed to the people at the bottom? The **** were rattled, unable even to find anything but touch with their punts out of defence - advantage was swiftly taken with no consideration for rubbish officiating, coming at the right end for once. Someone hit a speculative ball right down the middle in the general direction of Henry - a hasty, spur-of-the-moment idea that wasn’t very well thought out, seeing as Thierry was two or three yards offside.
The flag stayed down. Henry sent Barthez the wrong way and threaded the ball inside the post for his second. Pandemonium, which was soon to be followed by downright hilarity as we got a glimpse of the replays. This was, in short, the most blatant offside that I think I’ve ever seen, but coming in a game like this I don’t think anyone was left harbouring a guilty conscience or anything. Not that there was time to consider the moral implications of such comedic going’s-on at one end.
Straight from kick-off, Solskjaer collected the ball on the right wing at the corner flag, and curled a delicious delivery right to the far post where Giggs rose, headed down and scored despite Taylor getting both hands to his effort. The defending wasn’t on. Not only was it not on, but it wasn’t there either. Seaman would have saved it. It’s too harsh to blame Stuart, because he doesn’t make many blunders, but in the search for a scapegoat there might well be some flack being hurled his way. If you feel a burning need to have someone to vent any spleen you’re wanting rid of at, try Gilberto or Bergkamp, who were chiefly responsible for our moves breaking down.
I couldn’t tell you if I’m being too harsh or not, because this game was very, very emotional, a veritable rollercoaster. Some of you might know about my disgraceful barrage of abuse that was being hurled at Parlour during the cup final (“Sell him! SELL HIM!!!”) because at the time I didn’t think he was playing well. Watching a game is actually a really dodgy way of assessing any individuals’ contribution, but it remains my only option for commenting on the performance of anyone that needs analysis. So if Bergkamp is given man of the match in all the papers tomorrow, I apologise and will readily get down on my knees, oh master. As it is, I was really, really disappointed with him tonight.
Wiltord came on and didn’t touch the ball, and Kanu entered proceedings as a third striker for Pires, but two minutes later found himself in a makeshift defensive midfield position to compensate for a contentious red card which I naturally think is very, very harsh. Bringing the ball out of defence, with Solskjaer on his heels, Sol went to push the Norwegian out of the way, and seemingly caught him with an elbow. On the linesman’s advice, Halsey sent Campbell off. The replay showed that there was a hand thrust into Ole Gunnar’s shoulder, but no more.
Now, I will be accused of hypocrisy (I seem to remember saying that Totti had to go because his hands were raised) but this seems ridiculous - the linesman was actually quite right to take the action he did, because from his viewpoint it looked like a definite elbow. Other angles threw a less sinister light on he incident. This one has to be overturned, it has to be.
Gilberto dropped to partner Keown at the back for the final five minutes that weren’t as desperate as we were expecting - the Mancs didn’t really seem too concerned with going for a third. Presumably they’re confident enough of their ability to win this championship anyway. After tonight, so can we be.
Thierry had one last opportunity to win the game, connecting well on a thumping volley which Barthez saved with his legs. But by then the majority opinion in the pub was that we were happy with a draw. I was bucking the trend here - we had the lead, then threw it needlessly away, so why should we be content? Granted, the performance was superb n the second half, but in the first we were being given a lesson in how to use the football, and that’s cause enough for concern on my part.
I couldn’t tell you who’s going to win the league. We’ve taken the momentum out of Man Utd’s run-in, and it’s in our hands. This is the closest contest since 1989, and I intend to enjoy it no matter what misgivings I may have. Because you know something? Despite all the doubt, possible permutations, theorising and predictions, I have a feeling. Just a feeling. That feeling aside, is anyone up for tossing a coin to decide matters this campaign?
The double’s on. Still on. And while it is, let’s be confident. Because if you can’t be confident in a situation like this, why don’t you just go and follow a rugby union team instead? This is what it’s about, and we’ve had the privilege to see it. We’ll see it through, too. Come on Arsenal - I believe in you. We believe in you.
Man of the Match
Got to be Henry. Reason? ‘Cos the man’s a god.
Moment of the Match
The whistle to start the second half and usher in the finest 45 minutes of football since we beat Villa 3-2 in 2001.
Moan of the Match
Horse face - f*ck off. You’re not wanted.
Ally Winford
** You’ll remember my dismal ranting about how I couldn’t stand it any more, how my world is falling apart, how I couldn’t sleep, how the apocalypse is nigh...We didn’t win, but I feel good. Frustrated, of course. Mildly angry that we couldn’t hold our lead that may well have seen us top now. Despite that, rock on gooners. **
