Ally
Active Member
Match 4 – Liverpool 1 Arsenal 2 - 23rd December 2001
OK, I admit it. The temptation was just too, too much. Sorry. Having sworn a vow never to include two particular games in this meagre and indulgant series, I've kept half of it. May 8th was avoided by doing the salvage operation against West Ham instead, but I don't see quite how I can get out of writing on this one. There were three possibilities I had, because each of these could probably provide the basis for a rambling essay that ducked the point before producing a trumped-up conclusion out of nowhere (The other two being the Highbury games against Villa and Man Utd). But neither of those could boast the fairly justifiable claim that whoever won this one, two days before Christmas amidst the warm lights, frosted over pavements and halh-hearted tinsel draped over the bar, would go on and win the league. To me, it really is as simple as that.
Last time I waffled about the goal that sealed the title. Perhaps what won it was a red card for a utility man drafted in to cover Patrick Vieira. Perhaps what won it was the performance of a makeshift playmaker, in the middle of a run of games with Henry, who tended to waste possession, try unproductive through balls, drop back and trundle around the middle of the park and generally not look all that bothered about the game. Perhaps what won it was a glorious goal from the same man who would dive in to beat David James four months and one day later.
I should also say that you might notice the abundance of matches from 01/02 being given dubious coverage here. I have my reasons. If you can bear the suspense, I might get round to an attempt to justify that later. In the meantime....
....the difference between us going ahead in fifteen seconds and not was a debatably lucky clearance from Jamie Carragher off an Henry cross. It took us ten seconds to take Liverpool completely apart. Kanu spotted Thierry's run across Henchoz, pushed a delicate little pass into his path and as the Frenchman weighted a ball across the six yard box that was intended for Ljungberg (And would have found it's target in ample space, too), Carragher had little option but to instinctively dive towards the ball and facing his essentially open goal, got improbably under it and lifted it well over the crossbar. His primary intention was simply to make contact and prevent a tap-in at the far post, which he did, but he simply couldn't have counted on not bursting Dudek's net. Lucky but as it stood, a good bit of defending.
Up the other end, Lauren halted the problem of Gerrard over-running the ball out of play (ho hum) and scythed through him with what initally looked to be a horrendous challenge – no contact was actually made, although there was a fair degree of ingenuity going on to anticipate the chance for such a vigorous dive. How, how ironic. Lauren was booked for his trouble.
The problem with Henry and Kanu is that, aside from outisde-of-the-foot through balls played from the edge of the centre circle, there is very little interaction between the two, meaning the wingers must cut inside and one of the central midfielders have an added obligation of pushing up to try and balance out what is essentially a 4-5-1. Fan pearl of wisdom #1 – Kanu would dictate a game from midfield, rather than slowing it down from up front. On the admittedly limited evidence, and ignoring for a moment that this is not on as it would disrupt our structure, why not? The Nigerian's finest hour (Finest fifteen minutes, come to that) in an Arsenal shirt was of course at Stamford Bridge in '99, but as a technical contribution as opposed to a fleeting spell of brilliance to win an ultimately fruitless match, I'd say this one wins hands down. Such a discussion is probably risible and verging on offensive if you saw Kanu in Turin, but it's maybe worth mulling over. Kanu is a lazy and profligate player (Despite my very slight soft spot I still hold), but as a midfielder he was awesome when it mattered. Weird.
Stuart Taylor had by this stage had a reasonable run of games (And would perform to a standard that would keep Richard Wright on the bench for a month after we limped out of Anfield), so to play up the 'nervous rookie' role is perhaps not warranted; however leave aside that save from del Piero and consider how well he did in such a harrowing environment. Twice last season he was called in into situations that outdid even this in terms of intimidation, noise and outrageous psychological strain (The Mestalla and Old Trafford – remember his save off Scholes...), but at this point, to be landed right in the middle of this particular fracas requires a very specialist kind of mentality, calm and confidence. He showed that he posessed exactly that a year before he would surprise a good few people with his shot-stopping. The doubters still have considerable ammunition, but watch his display here again. There was not a great deal to do, but he held his nerve and then some. Even then he was promising. Now he's definitely more than that.
Ljungberg tried to play a through ball that was absolutely identical to the one with which Bergkamp took out the entire Pool back line in the corresponding fixture a season on – Henry ran in from the same position, but the timing was off by perhaps half a second, the placement off by a few metres. Whether this says more about the probability of success if you try such a strategy more than once, or whether it says more about the vision and uniqueness of the man playing the pass, I don't know. On 17 minutes, Liverpool were cut open again. A standard counter attack in the usual circumstances (ie. Arsenal players outnumbered by about two to one), and Kanu linked up with Pires to play an extended and inventive wall pass-of-sorts, and was presumably distracted by Gary McAllister's last minute dive in vain in front of the ball, and floated a shinner way, way off target. Again, the move was beautiful – the ball right across the edge of the box which dissected three defenders who had been otherwise preoccupied with Henry's run into the heart of the area was right on the money; Kanu's 'shot' unfortunately wasn't. At all.
A few minutes after McAllister had floated a free-kick onto the roof of the net that might well have dropped in had it not been so central, van Bronckhorst was justly cautioned for a wild, late foul on Hyypia. Ah, significance in smug hindsight. Dont' you just love it.
I have to say that while rarely threatening, we were easily having the better of this game. Liverpool were having trouble getting the ball under control under well-drilled holding tactics in our midfield, and whenever they did receieve the ball to feet, Steven Gerrard would usually give it away, Owen would over-run it or be caught offside, and Heskey would try to turn on it and fall over. Although there was one exception.
In an incident many have forgotten given what was to come later, Liverpool did once carve us open under their one genuine period of first half pressure. Lauren and Campbell stood off and hesitated as a rebound came out to Danny Murphy – given the time to think, Owen spun away on the right back's blind side and was flicked in. Closing in on Taylor, Owen's poked shot from the angle of the six-yard box might have appeared like a cut back to McAllister who was running in, totally unmarked (Although a selfish miscue it most certainly was – you wouldn't have expected anything else, would you?). Ashley Cole was virtually over the ball and couldn't back off and adjust in time to hack it away – he just took a wild and instinctive slice with his left foot, sending the ball dead centre into the goal. Or rather he would have done if he hadn't recovered from losing sight of the ball under his feet in the absolute nick of time. The mental alertness to flick his head back and anticipate what was about to happen was remarkable – the body movement to recover even more so. Hooking his other, weaker foot back, he prised it off the line. This was quite unequivocally the greatest clearance off the line I have ever seen in my life. Placente from Forlan was perhaps equally as miraculous, but the split second dexterity (and reaction rather than anticipation) set this one well above. Although for purposes of hilarity, I do rather like Ashley's time-them-by-your-watch clearances at the Lane last year, the consistancy verging on the ridiculous. Sp**s, eh? Gotta love em.
Pires came in at the far post to volley in a flick on from Campbell that actually hit Keown and bobbled just wide, and van Bronckhorst let fly with a 'definitely worth a go' long ranger that caught Dudek leaning on his right foot and necessitating a scrambling readjustment as the shot took one bounce and flew wide. I wonder what would have happened if that had gone in.
And then the game abrutply changed. Rather than exchanging periods of reliable posession with little penetration, we shut up shop. Not by choice.
“I think he's out of order, that referee, I really do. That Paul Durkin is absolutely ridiculous. That is a disgraceful decision from reputedly one of our top referees. I can't believe I have seen that. That is ridiculous. I don't care what anyone says, that boy went and lost his balance. He's never even got up and attempted to look for anything. That is a really awful decision in a game like this. If you want to book him for that, fine.”
This astonishing tirade from Andy Gray rang hollow at the time no matter how much truth was contained within. The game before, Parlour had been sent off by a bent ref looking to even things up, and now van Bronckhorst had slipped shoulder to shoulder with Hyypia when running after a ball he had over-run and been given a second yellow for it. He didn't want a penalty. He never appealed for a penalty. He gave Hyypia a thumbs up and turned around to see a referee desperate to get his cards out charging towards him with an air of great importance. This was basically a farce and it appeared that we were going to pay dearly for it. Having survived an almighty scare we were now going to be subjected to an inevitable Liverpool barrage in a game that had to be won at any cost.
And then something rather interesting happened – Wenger shifted his team around and Liverpool were suddenly being out-tacticed by ten men. Not out-fought, not losing a battle against nine players behind the ball; rather we passed well, anticipated well and moved well. There was a notable shift up a gear in terms of work ethic and the momentum was gone from the game. In addition to that, we had a nice illumination of basic refereeing incompetance where Pires appeared to be pushed over in the box by Riise. Not a yellow card in sight after we had established a penalty was not being given. Durkin would later come on Sky and say that he felt Gio was trying to “decieve” him. In this instance there was an appeal from at least three Arsenal players for a spot-kick. Gio had got straight up and started to jog away, before being asked to jog a little further down the tunnel. And as if that wasn't enough, when we finally did get a penalty (I'm assuming it was either out of guilt or sympathy), a professional, last man foul that prevented a clear goalscoring opportunity went totally unpunished in terms of cards.
To be honest, none of us were particularly fussed at the time, because it was an Arsenal goal bang on half time that evidentally carried great significance – after Kanu had picked his pass to Ljungberg, Fred was taken down by Dudek on the 6-yard line as he rounded him. Henry swiftly placed the most perfect penalty of his career in his usual spot which at least provided temporary relief from a shabby state of affairs from which, perversley, both teams would have to recover.
The Scousers chose to take the route of changing their personnel around – Litmannen for Heskey obviously providing more cause for concern than Smicer for McAllister. We were now in no position to try and dictate the flow of the game, although the pressure work the back line were putting in was going some way to ensure that Liverpool were having less say in this regard than they would have liked (Or perhaps a team who hadn't scored for 270 minutes had little confidence and were running more on speculation rather than sheer desire, as we were?).
Owen latched on to a kamikaze Pires volley back into his own penalty area after Keown had cleared, spun round and was forced onto his weak left foot and caught his shot wrongly, not coming close to troubling Taylor – we replied, pushed men forward and spilt open Pool, right down the middle – Henry tried a floating curler into the corner and put it wide when clean through. To be fair, the closure by Henchoz ruled out cutting the ball across Dudek, but there was still most certainly plenty to aim at. Less than Ljungberg had.
Straight away we came raiding down the left again. This time Pires, faced with Gerrard, didn't have Cole on the overlap and so just skinned his man with breathtaking, repetitious skill, switching his feet and eventually pushing the ball out to set up his cross, first time....Ljungberg ran sixty yards, right through the centre of Liverpool who were pushed up far, far too much, and at top speed, came firing in from absolutely nowhere and cut a simply gorgeous, incredible first time finish at scarcely credible velocity just inside Dudek's near post. And there was the best goal celebration ever.
Which would have been all well and good if we hadn't immediately been caught napping by a freak goal, three minutes after the game had kicked off again. Riise's cross swirled away to Owen who dropped back, tried a volley and sliced it so laughably, it dropped right onto Litmannen's head who didn't miss from a few yards. Oh dear.
If we had conceded another, it's more than likely we would have lost. I don't see any way now (despite your token break away upfield now and again) how we were going to get another goal in this one, and with the kind of atmosphere that was now being pumped out by fans with other things to concern them rather than mulling over what to do with the hubcaps under their seats.
It was just wave after wave after wave. Corner after corner, dangerous set pieces swung in, flick-ons, scrambles, the lot. Althought it must be said if you fast forward your tape to 59 minutes and 36 seconds....heeeheee. You'll know what I'm referring to when you see it. Just another little factor that contributed to Kanu's tour de force in the middle of the park that looks suspiciously like a holding role a la Vieira. It's a very ambivalent sight to behold.
To cut a long story short, we survived half an hour of pressure. And we won the game. D'uh.
Now, Liverpool can do a passable impression of being a laughing stock with dreadful players participating with incredible regularity. Then, they were a serious, serious threat. It doesn't really matter the manner in which they won their games, they still usually did. And of course the final table doesn't lie. A Liverpool win here could have done severe damage to whatever aspirations we had – in the next two games we would have to come back from trailing at half time. Would we have had the confidence to score twice in the second period in each match if there had been a psychological victory in addition to the hypothetically lost points? I don't know. I just don't know at all.
Oh, and I said I'd justify the fact that three out of four games in this series have been from the same season. I'd argue that if we had gone four years without winning anything (Face it, would we have got past Newcastle away in the FA Cup if there hadn't been an overall air of confidence in the team that at least partially extended to the reserves who were involved that day?), our status would have been justly questioned. Fair enough, a team coming second four years in a row obviously have something major going for them, but then again they equally obviously are lacking something just as important. If this game was the initial catalyst which really kicked the title charge into gear (And yes, I believe it was – undefeated domestically until late the following October after this game...co-incidence or not – and it could be argued that the ramifications of the Newcastle game are equally as important, but I don't intend to – something, presumably psychological again, happened after December 23rd that gave the team some attribute that they had obviously been missing in certain stages of the first half of the campaign).
There would have been no second chance here if Pool had equalised. Not unless we're talking five-minute final proportions, and we're not. Basically. This game could have very well been the difference between a stage where we all genuinely believed there had been a power shift, and an eternal reputation for second place, narrowly missing out and failing to grasp opportunities when they arose.
And that, I promise, is it from 01/02. Honestly. The reason I held back from writing on this game before is that I'm trying to present arguments that are perhaps a little different. But when a game carries as much significance as this one, when it was as emotive (Now and again, when something happens that causes me to age a few years – see the 'underside of the bar' incident two Saturdays back for a convenient example – I'll remember how I felt like that for more or less the entire second half), when it was just downright necessary to provide a preliminary indication of where in the top three we'd be...and, crucially, when you see Wengers' reaction to Ljungberg's goal. That says more than x number of words ever, ever could. It's true. Actions speak louder. That's when you know just what December 23rd meant. And that's why it's in here.
Ally Winford
OK, I admit it. The temptation was just too, too much. Sorry. Having sworn a vow never to include two particular games in this meagre and indulgant series, I've kept half of it. May 8th was avoided by doing the salvage operation against West Ham instead, but I don't see quite how I can get out of writing on this one. There were three possibilities I had, because each of these could probably provide the basis for a rambling essay that ducked the point before producing a trumped-up conclusion out of nowhere (The other two being the Highbury games against Villa and Man Utd). But neither of those could boast the fairly justifiable claim that whoever won this one, two days before Christmas amidst the warm lights, frosted over pavements and halh-hearted tinsel draped over the bar, would go on and win the league. To me, it really is as simple as that.
Last time I waffled about the goal that sealed the title. Perhaps what won it was a red card for a utility man drafted in to cover Patrick Vieira. Perhaps what won it was the performance of a makeshift playmaker, in the middle of a run of games with Henry, who tended to waste possession, try unproductive through balls, drop back and trundle around the middle of the park and generally not look all that bothered about the game. Perhaps what won it was a glorious goal from the same man who would dive in to beat David James four months and one day later.
I should also say that you might notice the abundance of matches from 01/02 being given dubious coverage here. I have my reasons. If you can bear the suspense, I might get round to an attempt to justify that later. In the meantime....
....the difference between us going ahead in fifteen seconds and not was a debatably lucky clearance from Jamie Carragher off an Henry cross. It took us ten seconds to take Liverpool completely apart. Kanu spotted Thierry's run across Henchoz, pushed a delicate little pass into his path and as the Frenchman weighted a ball across the six yard box that was intended for Ljungberg (And would have found it's target in ample space, too), Carragher had little option but to instinctively dive towards the ball and facing his essentially open goal, got improbably under it and lifted it well over the crossbar. His primary intention was simply to make contact and prevent a tap-in at the far post, which he did, but he simply couldn't have counted on not bursting Dudek's net. Lucky but as it stood, a good bit of defending.
Up the other end, Lauren halted the problem of Gerrard over-running the ball out of play (ho hum) and scythed through him with what initally looked to be a horrendous challenge – no contact was actually made, although there was a fair degree of ingenuity going on to anticipate the chance for such a vigorous dive. How, how ironic. Lauren was booked for his trouble.
The problem with Henry and Kanu is that, aside from outisde-of-the-foot through balls played from the edge of the centre circle, there is very little interaction between the two, meaning the wingers must cut inside and one of the central midfielders have an added obligation of pushing up to try and balance out what is essentially a 4-5-1. Fan pearl of wisdom #1 – Kanu would dictate a game from midfield, rather than slowing it down from up front. On the admittedly limited evidence, and ignoring for a moment that this is not on as it would disrupt our structure, why not? The Nigerian's finest hour (Finest fifteen minutes, come to that) in an Arsenal shirt was of course at Stamford Bridge in '99, but as a technical contribution as opposed to a fleeting spell of brilliance to win an ultimately fruitless match, I'd say this one wins hands down. Such a discussion is probably risible and verging on offensive if you saw Kanu in Turin, but it's maybe worth mulling over. Kanu is a lazy and profligate player (Despite my very slight soft spot I still hold), but as a midfielder he was awesome when it mattered. Weird.
Stuart Taylor had by this stage had a reasonable run of games (And would perform to a standard that would keep Richard Wright on the bench for a month after we limped out of Anfield), so to play up the 'nervous rookie' role is perhaps not warranted; however leave aside that save from del Piero and consider how well he did in such a harrowing environment. Twice last season he was called in into situations that outdid even this in terms of intimidation, noise and outrageous psychological strain (The Mestalla and Old Trafford – remember his save off Scholes...), but at this point, to be landed right in the middle of this particular fracas requires a very specialist kind of mentality, calm and confidence. He showed that he posessed exactly that a year before he would surprise a good few people with his shot-stopping. The doubters still have considerable ammunition, but watch his display here again. There was not a great deal to do, but he held his nerve and then some. Even then he was promising. Now he's definitely more than that.
Ljungberg tried to play a through ball that was absolutely identical to the one with which Bergkamp took out the entire Pool back line in the corresponding fixture a season on – Henry ran in from the same position, but the timing was off by perhaps half a second, the placement off by a few metres. Whether this says more about the probability of success if you try such a strategy more than once, or whether it says more about the vision and uniqueness of the man playing the pass, I don't know. On 17 minutes, Liverpool were cut open again. A standard counter attack in the usual circumstances (ie. Arsenal players outnumbered by about two to one), and Kanu linked up with Pires to play an extended and inventive wall pass-of-sorts, and was presumably distracted by Gary McAllister's last minute dive in vain in front of the ball, and floated a shinner way, way off target. Again, the move was beautiful – the ball right across the edge of the box which dissected three defenders who had been otherwise preoccupied with Henry's run into the heart of the area was right on the money; Kanu's 'shot' unfortunately wasn't. At all.
A few minutes after McAllister had floated a free-kick onto the roof of the net that might well have dropped in had it not been so central, van Bronckhorst was justly cautioned for a wild, late foul on Hyypia. Ah, significance in smug hindsight. Dont' you just love it.
I have to say that while rarely threatening, we were easily having the better of this game. Liverpool were having trouble getting the ball under control under well-drilled holding tactics in our midfield, and whenever they did receieve the ball to feet, Steven Gerrard would usually give it away, Owen would over-run it or be caught offside, and Heskey would try to turn on it and fall over. Although there was one exception.
In an incident many have forgotten given what was to come later, Liverpool did once carve us open under their one genuine period of first half pressure. Lauren and Campbell stood off and hesitated as a rebound came out to Danny Murphy – given the time to think, Owen spun away on the right back's blind side and was flicked in. Closing in on Taylor, Owen's poked shot from the angle of the six-yard box might have appeared like a cut back to McAllister who was running in, totally unmarked (Although a selfish miscue it most certainly was – you wouldn't have expected anything else, would you?). Ashley Cole was virtually over the ball and couldn't back off and adjust in time to hack it away – he just took a wild and instinctive slice with his left foot, sending the ball dead centre into the goal. Or rather he would have done if he hadn't recovered from losing sight of the ball under his feet in the absolute nick of time. The mental alertness to flick his head back and anticipate what was about to happen was remarkable – the body movement to recover even more so. Hooking his other, weaker foot back, he prised it off the line. This was quite unequivocally the greatest clearance off the line I have ever seen in my life. Placente from Forlan was perhaps equally as miraculous, but the split second dexterity (and reaction rather than anticipation) set this one well above. Although for purposes of hilarity, I do rather like Ashley's time-them-by-your-watch clearances at the Lane last year, the consistancy verging on the ridiculous. Sp**s, eh? Gotta love em.
Pires came in at the far post to volley in a flick on from Campbell that actually hit Keown and bobbled just wide, and van Bronckhorst let fly with a 'definitely worth a go' long ranger that caught Dudek leaning on his right foot and necessitating a scrambling readjustment as the shot took one bounce and flew wide. I wonder what would have happened if that had gone in.
And then the game abrutply changed. Rather than exchanging periods of reliable posession with little penetration, we shut up shop. Not by choice.
“I think he's out of order, that referee, I really do. That Paul Durkin is absolutely ridiculous. That is a disgraceful decision from reputedly one of our top referees. I can't believe I have seen that. That is ridiculous. I don't care what anyone says, that boy went and lost his balance. He's never even got up and attempted to look for anything. That is a really awful decision in a game like this. If you want to book him for that, fine.”
This astonishing tirade from Andy Gray rang hollow at the time no matter how much truth was contained within. The game before, Parlour had been sent off by a bent ref looking to even things up, and now van Bronckhorst had slipped shoulder to shoulder with Hyypia when running after a ball he had over-run and been given a second yellow for it. He didn't want a penalty. He never appealed for a penalty. He gave Hyypia a thumbs up and turned around to see a referee desperate to get his cards out charging towards him with an air of great importance. This was basically a farce and it appeared that we were going to pay dearly for it. Having survived an almighty scare we were now going to be subjected to an inevitable Liverpool barrage in a game that had to be won at any cost.
And then something rather interesting happened – Wenger shifted his team around and Liverpool were suddenly being out-tacticed by ten men. Not out-fought, not losing a battle against nine players behind the ball; rather we passed well, anticipated well and moved well. There was a notable shift up a gear in terms of work ethic and the momentum was gone from the game. In addition to that, we had a nice illumination of basic refereeing incompetance where Pires appeared to be pushed over in the box by Riise. Not a yellow card in sight after we had established a penalty was not being given. Durkin would later come on Sky and say that he felt Gio was trying to “decieve” him. In this instance there was an appeal from at least three Arsenal players for a spot-kick. Gio had got straight up and started to jog away, before being asked to jog a little further down the tunnel. And as if that wasn't enough, when we finally did get a penalty (I'm assuming it was either out of guilt or sympathy), a professional, last man foul that prevented a clear goalscoring opportunity went totally unpunished in terms of cards.
To be honest, none of us were particularly fussed at the time, because it was an Arsenal goal bang on half time that evidentally carried great significance – after Kanu had picked his pass to Ljungberg, Fred was taken down by Dudek on the 6-yard line as he rounded him. Henry swiftly placed the most perfect penalty of his career in his usual spot which at least provided temporary relief from a shabby state of affairs from which, perversley, both teams would have to recover.
The Scousers chose to take the route of changing their personnel around – Litmannen for Heskey obviously providing more cause for concern than Smicer for McAllister. We were now in no position to try and dictate the flow of the game, although the pressure work the back line were putting in was going some way to ensure that Liverpool were having less say in this regard than they would have liked (Or perhaps a team who hadn't scored for 270 minutes had little confidence and were running more on speculation rather than sheer desire, as we were?).
Owen latched on to a kamikaze Pires volley back into his own penalty area after Keown had cleared, spun round and was forced onto his weak left foot and caught his shot wrongly, not coming close to troubling Taylor – we replied, pushed men forward and spilt open Pool, right down the middle – Henry tried a floating curler into the corner and put it wide when clean through. To be fair, the closure by Henchoz ruled out cutting the ball across Dudek, but there was still most certainly plenty to aim at. Less than Ljungberg had.
Straight away we came raiding down the left again. This time Pires, faced with Gerrard, didn't have Cole on the overlap and so just skinned his man with breathtaking, repetitious skill, switching his feet and eventually pushing the ball out to set up his cross, first time....Ljungberg ran sixty yards, right through the centre of Liverpool who were pushed up far, far too much, and at top speed, came firing in from absolutely nowhere and cut a simply gorgeous, incredible first time finish at scarcely credible velocity just inside Dudek's near post. And there was the best goal celebration ever.
Which would have been all well and good if we hadn't immediately been caught napping by a freak goal, three minutes after the game had kicked off again. Riise's cross swirled away to Owen who dropped back, tried a volley and sliced it so laughably, it dropped right onto Litmannen's head who didn't miss from a few yards. Oh dear.
If we had conceded another, it's more than likely we would have lost. I don't see any way now (despite your token break away upfield now and again) how we were going to get another goal in this one, and with the kind of atmosphere that was now being pumped out by fans with other things to concern them rather than mulling over what to do with the hubcaps under their seats.
It was just wave after wave after wave. Corner after corner, dangerous set pieces swung in, flick-ons, scrambles, the lot. Althought it must be said if you fast forward your tape to 59 minutes and 36 seconds....heeeheee. You'll know what I'm referring to when you see it. Just another little factor that contributed to Kanu's tour de force in the middle of the park that looks suspiciously like a holding role a la Vieira. It's a very ambivalent sight to behold.
To cut a long story short, we survived half an hour of pressure. And we won the game. D'uh.
Now, Liverpool can do a passable impression of being a laughing stock with dreadful players participating with incredible regularity. Then, they were a serious, serious threat. It doesn't really matter the manner in which they won their games, they still usually did. And of course the final table doesn't lie. A Liverpool win here could have done severe damage to whatever aspirations we had – in the next two games we would have to come back from trailing at half time. Would we have had the confidence to score twice in the second period in each match if there had been a psychological victory in addition to the hypothetically lost points? I don't know. I just don't know at all.
Oh, and I said I'd justify the fact that three out of four games in this series have been from the same season. I'd argue that if we had gone four years without winning anything (Face it, would we have got past Newcastle away in the FA Cup if there hadn't been an overall air of confidence in the team that at least partially extended to the reserves who were involved that day?), our status would have been justly questioned. Fair enough, a team coming second four years in a row obviously have something major going for them, but then again they equally obviously are lacking something just as important. If this game was the initial catalyst which really kicked the title charge into gear (And yes, I believe it was – undefeated domestically until late the following October after this game...co-incidence or not – and it could be argued that the ramifications of the Newcastle game are equally as important, but I don't intend to – something, presumably psychological again, happened after December 23rd that gave the team some attribute that they had obviously been missing in certain stages of the first half of the campaign).
There would have been no second chance here if Pool had equalised. Not unless we're talking five-minute final proportions, and we're not. Basically. This game could have very well been the difference between a stage where we all genuinely believed there had been a power shift, and an eternal reputation for second place, narrowly missing out and failing to grasp opportunities when they arose.
And that, I promise, is it from 01/02. Honestly. The reason I held back from writing on this game before is that I'm trying to present arguments that are perhaps a little different. But when a game carries as much significance as this one, when it was as emotive (Now and again, when something happens that causes me to age a few years – see the 'underside of the bar' incident two Saturdays back for a convenient example – I'll remember how I felt like that for more or less the entire second half), when it was just downright necessary to provide a preliminary indication of where in the top three we'd be...and, crucially, when you see Wengers' reaction to Ljungberg's goal. That says more than x number of words ever, ever could. It's true. Actions speak louder. That's when you know just what December 23rd meant. And that's why it's in here.
Ally Winford
