This past weekend, we've just seen the most outrageously talented Arsenal side in living memory do their very best to concede the league title, thereby failing, yet again, to win the consecutive titles that their detractors say is the mark of a truly great team. Only three months ago, Henry, Vieira and the rest of the team were sweeping aside all comers. They had not been beaten for the whole of the previous Premiership season; and indeed were only narrowly beaten in the Championís League and the FA Cup. The fans sang 'We are unbeatable' and for a while, people were seriously talking about them going another season without a league loss. This despite dark clouds on the horizon, from Wenger's lack of transfer action in the summer to a protracted and painful lack-of-transfer saga starring Arsenalís captain and Real Madrid.

And it's these two summertime paper-fillers that seem to now be the cause of Arsenal's current malaise. The first, a lack of signings, is on the surface the more obvious cause of the slump in form. Many questioned Lehmann's lack of composure with crosses and when running out his area, many more questioned Wenger's decision to buy an unknown Spanish goalkeeper busy kicking his heels in a first division Spanish club's reserves. Following some high-profile mistakes Lehmann was dropped, and Almunia took his place, and at first he rose to the occasion, only to begin to make the same mistakes that had done for his predecessor; the culmination being his terrible flap at a cross against Bolton that allowed them to score the only goal of the game; the goal that at the end of season may well be as decisive as the equaliser they scored two seasons ago to end all hope of an Arsenal revival against a resurgent Manchester United.

There were other areas of Arsenal's squad that looked decidedly thin. Central midfield was always a worry, and so it came to pass with only a 17-year old being able to fill in following injuries to both Edu and Gilberto. Cesc Fabregas stood up, took a look around him, and with astonishing maturity showed himself to be one of Wenger's most astute buys. But underneath his wonderful passing and composure on the ball, he also showed that he was too lightweight to be able to compete for 90 minutes at the highest level. For him, at least, there was a ray of hope; time and experience would no doubt fill in the gaps in his game. It wasn't possible to say the same for the support for Toure and Campbell in central defence. Cygan consistently looked outclassed, ponderous and at best a last-choice player, not the first player on the teamsheet when either of the usual two centre-halves were unavailable.

Even up front there were doubts. When Henry and Pires were injured, where would the goals come from? Indeed, when the French duo just didn't feel like it, where would the goals come from? These two together either score, or help to score, more than two-thirds of Arsenal's goals. Reyes and Van Persie were inexperienced; Bergkamp was getting old, Ljungberg too reliant on Bergkamp's through balls, and none of the midfielders and only Cole in the defence seemingly capable of scoring. Corners, that standby of the George Graham era, either hit the first defender or flew harmlessly into touch, no matter who was taking them.

But most critical of all, no-one in the first team seemed at all worried that their place was in danger. Van Persie aside, there was no fresh blood to make the older or more established players buck up their ideas. The only person who might be in that situation is Ashley Cole, for whom Clichy is a more than capable understudy and who performed out of his skin when many of his team-mates hadnít shown up. And worst of all, the captain seemed unwilling to demand extra effort from his team mates when it was most required.

Ah, Vieira. The best example of the maxim 'Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it'. During the summer, long-suffering Arsenal fans were yet again subjected to the undignified sight of Real Madrid courting Patrick Vieira. Now, there is the school of thought that players are merely employees of the club, and are free to at least consider alternative options. There is some truth in this and I for one wouldnít mind if Scunthorpe FC came in for a late transfer window bid for Pascal Cygan, but when the player approached is the club captain, the man whom the players look for inspiration and drive, the situation changes. And when said captain fails to make any comment to the press until the entire Arsenal fan base (and apparently Arsenal FC themselves) are convinced he's leaving, only to make the surprise announcement that he would indeed stay, because he was so happy at Arsenal and he wouldn't find that love elsewhere, one does begin to wonder what was going through his mind when he even began discussing terms with Real. Did he really think he'd be a Galactico? And once he'd gone through the disappointment of not signing for Real, would he give his all for the club he so nearly walked away from?

The answers seemed to be yes and no. Yes, he thought he would be a Galactico, and when told that he wouldn't, he decided to stay with Arsenal and merely jog his way through the remainder of his footballing career. The sight of such a talented defensive midfielder watch as balls flew just over his head, or pass to an opposition player more times that to his team-mates and then fail to track back and correct his mistakes, or to keep quiet when his team are losing their confidence and falling apart around him, have been horrible but all too commonplace this season. Worse, he seems to have lost the ability to charge through the opposition midfield, taking out a few players at once before releasing the ball to Bergkamp or Henry and allowing them to do the creative stuff. He only passes sideways or even back to the defence, leaving the wing players and Fabregas running into space for nothing. Such a shame for those who have sung their lungs out in support of a much-maligned player, even when he was at his lowest ebb following the Neil Ruddock incident.

Now, Wenger is left with a captain who rarely performs even as well as a 17-year old, who fails to motivate his team, who stands by when he loses the ball, and allows the midfield of teams such as Southampton, Bolton, Manchester City and Crystal Palace run rings around him. A few seasons ago, he was worth two players and as long as teams that played five across midfield also didn't defend too deep, there was always a way to release the forwards onto through balls. Now, a player like Joey Barton can steal the ball from Vieira and pass the ball to Ian Wright's stepson, who scores a wonder goal. How Arsenal fans laughed at the irony.

Worse, his attitude appears to have crept through much of the rest of the team. There are players who act as though challenging for a 50/50 ball is against their religion (Pires), that giving 100% for at least half the game just isn't the done thing (Henry and Pires again), and that signing a new contract for the club that has supported them through thick and thin just won't do (Edu, and now most disturbingly Campbell). Players seem unwilling to back each other up, or to run into space, or to even take a risk and shoot. Defending is just left to the defence (and poor Freddie, whose work rate on the right wing is often forgotten); God forbid that the world's best defensive midfielder should track back, harry the opposition, and win the ball back. Six seasons ago, after a shocking 3-1 defeat to Blackburn, the old Arsenal defence tore strips out of Petit and Vieira, telling them that their job was not to swan about near the half-way line but to help defend. A club record 12 match unbeaten run and the league title followed. Has the same happened yet? Did Lauren try after the embarrassing (if ultimately unimportant) draw against Rosenborg? Did Lehmann say something? Has Sol Campbell said anything? Is this the cause of the current listlessness around the team at the moment?

Whatever it is, it's making the team play like they only have to jog onto the pitch to win games. The loss to Manchester United didn't exactly break Arsenal's spirit and the problems in the team were plain to see by then, as the lack of shots on goal during the game testify, and the results against Panathanaikos and Bolton demonstrated - but by the time the Liverpool game reared its ugly head, with quite possibly the worst first-half performance of any Arsenal team since the mid-80's, the rot had set in. Of course there have been some good performances recently; tough games against Newcastle, and a Chelsea game during which Henry rivalled the Ryan Giggs classic miss for sheer 'My nan could have scored that, and she's dead' astonishment.

So what is required to make Arsenal play like the fantastic team we know they can be? I think three things need to change.

1. A new captain

Vieira doesn't act like a captain, or play like one. Look at what Gerrard does for Liverpool, or Lampard for Chelsea, or even Keane still manages for Manchester Utd. They drive the team on. They work harder, for longer, for greater effect, than anyone else. When things go bad they get the team playing (though admittedly Gerrard has rather less to work with than the others). My choice would be Sol Campbell; he has consistently performed and was the person who invented the 'Together' mantra. Ashley Cole is too much of a hothead, despite his obvious love and passion for the club and the game. Getting Henry to be a good captain would be like getting a cat to guard your house.

2. A plan B

So many times, teams put five men in midfield and sit four men deep, deep in defence, and for the life of us we can't break through with our magical, high-speed game. We need to get dirty, to get lucky, and most of all, to take chances with shots and corners. Not being able to score from corners is killing us, a goal every couple of games would do us wonders, and if we could still beat teams that played 10 men behind the ball, then maybe they might try and be brave against us and try and attack. At which point we revert to plan A. And how difficult can a good corner be for a man who can score such wonderful free-kicks?

3. Hard work

The most frustrating aspect of watching Arsenal play, having gone through my late teenage years and early twenties watching George Graham's sides battle, fight and claw their way to victory, is seeing this current side not bother. Sure, there are exceptions - Ashley Cole always gives as much as possible, the young guns try hard, often to no avail, and Freddie's work-rate on the wing is an example to his opposite number but too often players just donít try. Five men in midfield? One of the forwards should drop back and get stuck in. Opposition defence knocking it around? Chase them down, make them make a mistake. Don't let teams rest. Don't let teams think they can play against us. Chase them, harry them, and as soon as we win the ball run hell for leather at their defence. We've done it in the past. We've done it this season.

Let's do it again and show that overhauling a ten point lead, just like winning in Italy, is not impossible.

If there is anyone out there considering whether or not to attend Arsenal matches in 2005, there is no need to, now, as the Times newspaper has adjudicated on the matter right at the start of the year. Apparently the title race is over.

It is very nice of them to save us all this time and money. As you know, a seat in the North Bank, for example, costs about £45 per game. That’s a lot of wedge, particularly just after Christmas. For people with season tickets who are understandably disappointed to find that they have forked out unnecessarily for almost half a season worth of home games, there are still some significant savings to be made from not taking up your allocation, as well as accumulated health benefits. There is the reduced consumption of beers, pies and nervy cigarettes; your lungs, waistline and pocket will thank you. Travel to the match by public transport? How about using the time saved through avoiding congestion and delays in a constructive hobby? Consider obtaining permission for an allotment from your local authority and grow some nourishing green vegetables. And as you survey the serried ranks of Jerusalem artichokes, foot aperch on your Spear and Jackson, think also that you are sucking in God’s clean air (with just a hint of compost) instead of risking infection and irritation from manifold personal hygiene exposures that come with travelling courtesy of London Transport (or Transport for London as they would like to be known — I wonder how much that name change cost us taxpayers, by the way?).

If you prefer to use your own vehicle, consider the savings by no longer attending games: tax, insurance, petrol, parking, wear and tear of an important family asset and mileage related depreciation. Consider also the health benefits accrued from reduced exposure to combustion by-products and lessened risk of impromptu bouts of fisticuffs with white van drivers on Holloway Road. Here, too, the time save jammed in traffic can be put to good use. You could construct a model aeroplane. This offers you the chance to keep a plastic scale model of a Messerschmitt Bf109 in a prominent place in your home, which will obviously impress a great many visitors. It is also an ideal opportunity to sample the narcotic aromas of Airfix glue and recapture, thereby, your late 1970’s childhood, if you so desire. I must warn any younger readers that it is neither big nor clever to inhale isocyanates (or, for that matter, to insert safety pins into any part of your anatomy). Your parents may have done it, but you know as well as I do how stupid they are.

Of course there is an argument for Arsenal matches to continue until the summer. If you’ll permit me to explain, you will have noticed that, in six Arsenal games a season, we play against opposition we have not faced for at least a year. And those more observant among you will have noted that three teams who played against Arsenal last season are no longer on the fixture list this season. The reason for this is that, apparently, the three teams that accumulate the fewest points in the Premiership are told at the end of the season that they will not be required to play against Arsenal for the following season. They then have to play in an ignominious league competition for at least one season to earn the right to play against us again. Some never reappear; others take a considerable length of time before they reach the requisite level. This phenomenon is known as "relegation". I can fully understand if you are unfamiliar with the concept, as it has never happened to us. But suffice it to say that, to be fair to all the teams at risk of relegation, we should try and win all of our remaining games.

However there is no longer any need for supporters to attend these games. It used to be that the gate receipts that are shared with visiting sides would be invested in nurturing talented young footballers that the bigger clubs could buy. This means that a proportion of your £45 would be spent on nurturing a future Arsenal player. However, lower league clubs appear to be abandoning youth academies in droves in favour of buying, selling and swapping and loaning players amongst themselves. There is precious little for us to invest in these days. Clubs who are close to promotion to the top flight invariably buy a sampling from a stock of players of Premiership quality the moment they arrive and discard those of lesser ability to clubs in the lower leagues anyway and we ought not really to subsidise such activities any longer. The club has prudently taken to poaching young players from abroad, where they still adhere to the principle that it is worth coaching young players to very high skill levels. We have almost cut adrift the rest of the football league by now, here in the Premiership. It is time they learned to stand on their own two left feet.

Now I can understand one or two Arsenal fans who might be feel that they are missing out on some of the simpler pleasures of their chosen passion. I would ask you to steel yourselves. At this time of year we naturally reflect on the past and look to change things for a better future; making resolutions, for instance, to quit smoking (or in my case learn Japanese, which I perceive to be a little less demanding). Ask yourself therefore, if you could possibly do without the following:

1. Alighting at Arsenal tube station amidst a cheering, chortling, hectoring, bantering sing-song throng and pressing with them along that tiny caged corridor to the surface in expectant anxiety and heightened excitement about what joys may be awaiting you.


2. Strolling into an Islington boozer and greeting similarly clad chums, enjoying a convivial pint of lager and indulging in an earnest chat about the respective merits of Lehmann and Almunia (My personal view is that they’re both crap on crosses, you can get a fag paper between them on reaction saves, but that the Spaniard is a far better distributor of the ball. Thanks I’ll have a Kronenbourg, please).


3. Watching Thierry Henry skipping lightly but purposefully past three defenders with such ease that, were they not so intellectually well insulated, ought to cause them severe existential angst.


4. Seeing Patrick Vieira stride manfully towards some simple soul in temporary possession of the ball, unceremoniously oust him with an outstretched limb, take that ball and carefully distribute it to a team mate further advanced up the pitch, perhaps lobbing the ball over the stricken opponents head for good measure.


5. Walking down Avenell Road to be greeted by the huge marble edifice of the West Stand, an Art Deco masterpiece with no known equal in the architectural pantechnicon.


6. Seeing Sol Campbell rise above the churning maelstrom of the penalty area, at least a foot above any colleague or rival, and despatch the ball cleanly with his head to some far off distant place, where all threat of it reaching our goal and causing even a moments doubt to whomsoever wears the gloves and guards the goal is very considerably diminished.


7. A considerable flat expanse of grass mown to such a degree of perfection that one would happily carpet Mount Olympus with it, safe in the knowledge that Zeus himself would not stumble, nor Hera feel the need to give it an additional hoovering.


8. A Dennis Bergkamp through ball of such precision that it can only really be matched by that of a neurosurgeon were he (or indeed she) to delicately reconnect the neurons inside the brain of a gnat to enable it to fly backwards whilst simultaneously whistling the theme tune to the Waltons.


9. Standing cheering as a bus load of your heroes drives by you and into some foreign field, standing awestruck as they alight from the chariot and deign to scrawl their signature on a pocketbook you have purchased for just such an unlikely occasion, then being even more astonished when one of these demigods exchanges a friendly word or two with you and your youngster.


10. The sudden rising to ones feet as a player in a red shirt with white sleeves attacks the goal immediately in front of you, the sharp intake of breath as he aims his foot, and the massive ejaculation of joy as the ball travels thence to the back of the net (and for those of you so inclined, the opportunity to hug your fellow man warmly in a way that does not cause any suspicion amongst observers).

These are vices, ladies and gentlemen. Strange addictions that you can give up if you simply apply enough will-power. Remember that the dictum of the new elite is "winning is everything, money no object". Football should be nothing if not goal-based, I venture to suggest. And footballers must have ambition. When did you last hear a top footballer say "I have the best job in the world. I’m being paid shedloads to play a sport I would gladly do for free. I have a fantastic house with a swimming pool and a pool table. I have a wife whose beauty I surely do not deserve based on comparison with my own humble appearance. I drive a car that is generally acknowledged to be the fastest production road car in the world at this time and the means, should another vehicle exceed my own in power and performance to buy it and park it adjacent to my current ride in a purpose built garage. Oh, and a lucrative modelling contract. I ask you, what need have I of additional glory and recognition? What should I gain, but brief possession of some ugly silverware that does not look at all fetching next to my airbrushed canvass of Muhammad Ali?". No, my friends, that is not what you will hear. You will hear only "I am at this club because I want to win things". As a devoted supporter, therefore, how can you not align yourselves wholeheartedly with the chief desire of your heroes?

We should ask ourselves, "What are we all here for?" The answer, my friends is a trophy - the shinier the better. Once it has been decided that there will be no trophy this season (and I ask you to bear in mind that those adjudicating in this matter are very experienced professional football journalists whose opinions, in their erudition, far outweigh your own) you should, you must, gracefully concede that your raison d’etre each weekend and on the occasional week night has been expunged.

It’s 2005. Shake off those awful habits. Embrace the new you.