My good old Arsenal friends. Those of you who have been reading from the start will know Arseblog has been going for over 4 years now. Together we have seen some bad games. We have seen Arsenal lose 6-1 at Old Trafford, we’ve lost an FA Cup final in the last 10 minutes, there have been last minute equalisers, last minute goals which have cost us games, average performances, poor performances, terrible performances and fucking cunting shite performances but let me tell you this; I have never, ever enjoyed a game of football less than the one we had to endure last night. Until the last 3 minutes of course but up to that point it was pure hell.
We jsut did not perform last night. I think the fact we lost Flamini after 8 minutes on top of already losing Senderos was part of the reason as the defensive platform on which our successes had been built was gone. That said we were pretty much outplayed the whole game. They made all the chances, they put us under pressure, they could have scored at least twice, if not more than that, and we were just unable to get any kind of football together. There was just no movement when we had the ball and not enough movement when we didn’t have it. It was so difficult to watch. From front to back we were dreadful, perhaps too conscious of the fact we had that one goal lead to protect but how precious was Kolo’s goal last week at the end of it all?
Second half texts to knowledgable companions kept me relatively sane but it was such hard going – and most of you didn’t have to listen to Ronnie Whelan as the co-commentator and Trevor Welch, as the main man. Although I suppose anything is better than that fucker Clive Tyldsley. You’d look at the clock and it would say 74.31 and 15 minutes later you’d look and it would say 74.32. Just awful. I don’t need to explain because I know you all know and you experienced the same thing.
Then the game, after about 1400 light years, gets to the final minute. Gael Clichy jumps for a header, that massive cunt Jose Mari stands still instead of jumping for the ball – very cleverly you have to say – and Clichy knocks him over. “Oh! The referee has pointed to the spot” say the TV men. I’ve been waiting for that cunt to fucking do us at some stage and here it is. In the last minute of normal time. I might cry.
“Oh no!”, I said. It was plaintive. Imagine a young boy coming home to find his faithful dog, his best friend in the world, flattened on the road outside his house.Mrs Blogs stood up. I thought she was going to rub the top of my head in that kind of ‘Oh well, that’s it now. They’re going to score and there’s only one team that’s going to go on and win it from here’ way. She didn’t though.
“He’s going to save it”, she said.
“Gah”, I replied.
“He’s going to go to the left and he’s going to save it“, she repeated.
“Bah”, I replied.
I stared blankly at the screen. Riquelme licked his lips. Jens stood there being Jens. Riquelme shot. Jens went left. He saved it. We cleared it.
“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”, I said leaping up and down and seriously aggravating my shin splints.
“I told you!”, said Mrs Blogs as she came over and gave me a hug and I got a look down her top too. What a fucking moment. If there was any doubt about whether I loved Jens more than Mrs Blogs then boobs won the day. I still love Jens though. What a fucking guy he is and I loved the way he did that ‘slit your throat’ gesture at number 99 Franco. Afterwards a clearly relieved Clichy said “If you ask me who my favourite player is in the world at the moment, I would say Lehmann.” Not too many Arsenal fans would argue with that at the moment.
From then on there was no doubt. We actually managed to keep the ball for a little bit and then the ref, eventually, blew the final whistle. A shattered Riquelme got off the pitch as quickly as he could, more than one Villarreal player cried. I gave each one of them the finger when they come on screen, the fucking cunts. They might have played better than us but that doesn’t make them not cunts and doesn’t mean we shouldn’t enjoy knocking them out to ensure our path to Paris is complete. From the least enjoyable 89 minutes of my life I’d suddenly really enjoyed the last three. I’m not sure that makes up for it all but football is a funny old game etc etc.
Afterwards the manager spoke about the performance and admitted we were a bit lucky. He said “We were a bit lucky tonight, but it is a fantastic achievement as this side has great character. We did not manage to play tonight; I don’t know if it is physical or psychological. Even if we were not great, I am still proud of the character in the young team.”He also had praise for Jens Lehmann, saying “I thought to myself, if it is our year, Jens will save it. Maybe the strength of character of Jens was important because I knew he would not be beaten easily. There was a lot of pressure on Requellmie and he had fatigue, but Jens had determination and class, and he showed again what a great goalkeeper he has been this season.”
Thierry Henry was also full of praise of the German keeper who, without question, was the Arsenal hero last night. He said “The penalty was very harsh, if that’s a penalty then you’ll see one every day of the week. He had an amazing game, not just the save. It was a team effort but Jens was magnificent.”
To be fair he made a great save from Franco in the first half which should have been given offside, but wasn’t, and was truly awesome when the defence, shorn of two key players, really needed him.
So we’re off to Paris. The first ever Champions League final in the club’s history and it’s just amazing to think a team that nearly everybody had written off as second rate has managed to get there. Leaving last night’s performance aside I am so proud of the players and delighted for the manager who all along has had faith in his team. We might have ridden our luck a bit against Villarreal but you don’t get this far on luck alone. We haven’t lost a game in the CL this season and we’re, hopefully, 90 minutes away from becoming invincible in Europe like we were in the league two seasons ago. Does it matter who we get in the final? Not really. From my point of view the thoughts of beating Barcelona and wearing my Arsenal shirt around town for the following week is already giving me a bit of a stiffy but I’m not bothered. I also have a sneaky feeling Milan are going to go through tonight.
There’s no need to go into a critique of individual performances, we all saw the game, we saw who did ok but in general we looked like a very tired team somewhat overawed by the occasion. It doesn’t matter though. We’re on our way. We’re going to Paris. I’ll leave you with the picture below, I think that says more than I ever could. I love the lads.
