Something Great

Arsene Wenger cobbled together starting lineups with spit and duct tape and Denilson and somehow the team dragged its ass over the finish line in third or fourth.

Friday, November 26, 2010

Happy Thanksgiving (Except you, Arsenal)

I hope everyone is having a great holiday, despite Arsenal's best efforts to ruin it. The panic button shouldn't be pushed yet, but I understand if you're hunched over the button with your arm raised and glancing around with crazy eyes.

This Saturday against Aston Villa, the Gooners have the opportunity to start off the weekend in amazing fashion. And I'm not referring to the three points. Those will be nice of course, but I'm most referring to timing of it all.

It's a long weekend, it's the holidays, and Arsenal is the opening ceremony. An Arsenal win means the United-Blackburn match is exceedingly more enjoyable. You get to be that guy at the bar wearing Arsenal red, oooh-ing and aah-ing obnoxiously over every Blackburn miss. You can drink your beer with a conspicuous air of entitlement, talk loudly about how, "Wayne seems to have lost a step", and still leave happy after United win 2-nil. The day has just begun.

After an early lunch of leftover turkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes, the Serie A is there for dessert. AC Milan and their enigmatic all-stars face a tricky Sampdoria side to increase their lead atop the table. Then comes Juventus, or rather, the Milo Krasic show, on FSC. If you haven't tuned in to see Milo Krasic run circles around slow Serie A defenders, this is your chance. The Old Lady has a swagger about them lately, so lets hope they keep it up.

Before you drift off to sleep in the wonderful food comatose that can only occur this time of year, let Diego Forlan tuck you in. The World Cup's best player leads Atletico Madrid against Barcelona's younger brother, Espanyol. With rumors of a scoring drought, Doug E Fresh set the record straight against Osasuna, and ever since, he and Kun Aguero have been running trains on La Liga defenders.

On Sunday, Liverpool will beat Tottenham after Chelsea loses to Newcastle and the Rams, who are shockingly relevant this year, will pull out a nice road victory a mile in the air. You'll say goodbye to family, eat one more turkey sandwich for the road and wonder why you don't make 15 pound turkeys more often because the leftovers are so damn good. Unfortunately, it can't be replicated; it won't be same if it's not Nov 25th, but you knew that already.

None of these things will happen if Arsenal comes out and loses. So yeah, no pressure.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Enter the Spin Zone

Here, drink this champagne, eat this hors d’oeuvre, and take a seat. I’m here to make things better.

Pay attention.

Let’s suppose that Chelsea, Manchester United, and Arsenal are the three favorites to win the title this year. Each team has played 14 matches so far, 7 at home, and 7 away. Chelsea and Utd lead the Prem with 28 points, and Arsenal are not far behind with 26.

Of the fourteen games played so far, all three teams have 6 opponents in common. They are: Liverpool, Manchester Citeh, Sunderland, West Brom, West Ham, and Wolves.

Whether home or away, Chelsea, United, and Arsenal have all faced the aforementioned teams. Here are the points earned for their shared opponents:

Chelsea - 9 points
Man Utd – 12 pts
Arsenal – 11 pts

This is important because not all wins and losses are the same at this stage of the season. When Arsenal go to the Eastlands and smash on Manchester Citeh, those three points have more inherent value than Chelsea’s home beat down of West Brom. At this point of the campaign, all three points are not created equal.

It’s less fun to analyze the season this way, but it’s the truth. Would any Gooner feel confident at Old Trafford for the final game of the season, top of the table by one point? Oh by the way, 2nd place Chelsea have West Ham at home… didn’t think so.

The key, as always, is expectations. Every manager knows this. Ian Holloway rested ten of his starters because Blackpool cannot be expected to get points away at Aston Villa, not when four days later West Ham comes to visit. Mick McCarthy did the same thing against United last year. Five days later his rested team beat Burnley. Ian earned a draw for his next game.

Granted, these are managers trying to avoid relegation, not win the Premier League, but what is a “good results” and what is a “bad result” still holds. Take a look at last year. Recall that Chelsea won the league with 86 points, Man United finished with 85 points, and Arsenal third, with 75.

Of the 38 fixtures every team plays, 14 of them are exceedingly tricky: home or away games against Arsenal, Chelsea, Man Utd, Liverpool, Man Citeh, Tottenham (12) and also away games at Aston Villa, and Everton (2). Twelve plus two makes for 14 critical fixtures in any team’s title chase*. Wondering how critical? – Just ask Arsenal.

Last year Arsenal earned just 14 points from the “tricky” fixtures while Chelsea and Man-U earned 24 and 22 respectively. Ouch.

Put this in a different way. For the 24 matches that a team such as Arsenal, Chelsea and Man-U are expected to win, they earned 61, 62, and 63 points respectively. No big difference. Not nearly the 14, 24 and 22 spread from the crucial fixtures. You earn your paycheck for the twenty-four regular matches; you get paid for the other fourteen.

So how is this season shaping up? Obviously I wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble if it didn’t mean good news for Arsenal… right? Right?

Each team has conveniently played 4 of their 12 tricky games so far this season:

Arsenal – 7 points
Chelsea – 4 pts
Man Utd – 6 pts

With such a limited sample size it’s tough to jump to any major conclusions. We’ll know more about Arsenal very soon; 3 of our next 5 games are Villa away, United away and Chelsea at home.

One detail, however, does stand out; Chelsea is in worse shape than the table shows. They’re trailing their peers on points against the same opponent as well as crucial fixtures. And even though they’re still top, a smart Chelsea fan would be worried that they haven’t met the expectations of a championship caliber team.

You know, a team that blows a 2 goal-lead, at home, to their biggest rival - that kind of championship team. Ugh, I think I’m gonna be sick again.


*It’s really 12 for a top team since they don't play themselves.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

There Is Vomit Everywhere












Last week, I used Ice Cube's line "drunk, but no throwing up" to characterize how Arsenal dealt with taking a two goal lead against Everton. Applying that to today's match against Spurs, I can only conclude that the Emirates Stadium is drenched with metaphorical vomit. Dripping with vile, alcohol-laden vomit. Swimming in a hastily-chewed half pound bean and cheese burrito from Del Taco and reeking of bile and acid. How on earth did this happen?

Arsenal got a little tipsy when Nasri broke the deadlock. Even the boss was fist-pumping and smiling in a manner that he usually saves for goal number seven. Who could blame him, though? Arsenal were good value for their lead, dominating proceedings in the midfield, and pressing Spurs high up the pitch. Chamakh made it two, and suddenly, we were on top of the world (let alone the league table). Beating Spurs at home, business as usual. After all, they hadn't taken three points on Arsenal's home field since 1993. We had the three points draped over us, she kept touching our arm and laughing at all our jokes. Fantastic.

But we couldn't let things plateau. We just kept drinking. And drinking. And suddenly, Denilson was staggering around the field, forgetting to track back and help out his defense during a Spurs break. 2-1. And then during a free kick, Fabregas and Chamakh raised their arms like frat boys clamoring for another round of shots, desperately trying to get the bartender's attention. And they succeeded, as Cesc's blatant resulting handball gave Phil Dowd absolutely no choice but to throw us out of the bar. 2-2. And then, utterly demoralized and disoriented, Arsenal watched, powerless and thick-tongued, as Younes Kaboul spit game at the three points and convinced her to come home to White Hart Lane. 2-3. As Kaboul sealed the deal, Arsenal vomited copiously onto the pavement and collapsed in a stricken, moaning, weeping heap of misery.

William Gallas is laughing at us. Harry Redknapp is laughing at us. Jermaine Jenas is laughing at us. I can only hope that we were blackout when this went down because it might be the only way that we'll be able to rebound from it. Would that Arsene's Sleeping Bag Coat were a Time Sleeping Bag Coat. We could go back in time and salvage this. As it is, we need to get out a mop, some Pine Sol, a healthy helping of humility, and promise ourselves (at least until next week) to never drink again.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

In the Words of Ice Cube...

"It was a good day." In fact, it was a great football weekend. Let's recap...

I got my grub on, but didn't pig out; finally got a call from a girl I wanna dig out...

Aston Villa 2 - 2 Manchester United. In a way, a United loss would have been pigging out - I don't think I'm alone in having the feeling that if they lost this one, they would bounce back with a five spot against Wigan next weekend. Instead, they get to maintain a false sense of security in their unbeaten run, and can ignore that they've been leapfrogged in the table, drawn two in a row, are relying on the likes of Park and Vidic to get them out of jail, and should have never even beaten Wolves last week. Ring ring. Hello, who's there? Oh, hey Aston Villa... are you telling me you're going to start playing like the side that routinely competes for fifth or sixth and gives the top teams trouble? So good to hear from you...

Looking in my mirror, not a jacker in sight - and everything is alright...

Manchester City 0 - 0 Birmingham City. As an Arsenal fan, please allow me to redirect something towards Citeh, something that every Arsenal hater has been telling me ad infinitum (and not without good reason) for the past few years: "these are the games you have to win to be a contender." Chelsea, Arsenal, and United are looking in their rear view mirrors, and they're increasingly unafraid of what they see.

Saw the police, and they rolled right past me...

Juventus 1 - Roma 1. This is not so much a positive as it is an aversion of disaster (for both teams). All in all, a very entertaining match, and either side could have won (and either side could have had players booked or even sent off, especially near the end when it got chippy). But as it is, two good teams made sure they didn't lose big while going for the win, and two fine strikers added to their tally. Nobody got arrested, and the title remains a viable goal.

Woke her up around one, she didn't hesitate to call Ice Cube the top gun...

Barcelona 3 - 1 Villareal. I don't hesitate to call Leo Messi the top gun, and neither should you. Two goals from him (he's so good, that I expect him to score his first the way he does now... he's officially patented the double give and go, and we're all spoiled for it), and the Blaugrana got to sit top for about 24 hours.

Today was like one of those fly dreams...

Chelsea 0 - 3 Sunderland. The kind of fly dream where Sunderland drop three goals. On Chelsea. At Stamford Bridge. Three well-deserved goals, might I add. It was the kind of fly dream in which Ashley Cole passes it directly to the other team to set up an icing-on-the-cake goal. Well played, Steve Bruce. Well played Danny Welbeck and Asamoah Gyan. And extremely well played Nedum Onuoha, doing his best Messi imitation for the opener. Mmm, positively dreamy.

Even saw the lights of the Goodyear Blimp, and it read: "Ice Cube's a pimp."

Hercules 2 - 1 Real Sociedad and Atletico Madrid 3 - 0 Osasuna. The Goodyear Blimp being La Liga (make of that what you will), and the shining lights being two TLOCA favorites, David Trezeguet (captured in the act of reasoning with the ball and convincing it that the goal is its proper home) and Diego Forlan, who got back on target for their respective sides. That's just a nice bonus, and a reminder that class is permanent. When Trez and Forlan go to sleep at night, they see their names on that blimp.

Drunk as hell, but no throwing up...

Everton 1 - 2 Arsenal. Arsenal continue to grind out tough wins on the road while surrendering easy ones at home. We scored two classy goals (Bacary!?!), and got a little too comfortable. But despite getting drunk and reeling a bit at the end, Lukasz Fabianski provided the voice of reason and prevented us from pulling the trigger and losing two points. We may have a bit of a hangover tomorrow, but thank goodness we didn't boot all over Goodison Park. Although we wouldn't have been the first to do it.

I got to say, it was a good day.

Amen. (And Jose Mourinho and AC Milan agree.)

Monday, November 8, 2010

Fresh Juicy Mangoes


















Dan Quayle would be proud of this fellow. For the neutral observer, it was a fantastic weekend of football. As an Arsenal supporter, it wasn't so great; I'll just quickly say a few words about that stinker against Newcastle and it's this: no excuses. We put out almost as strong a squad as we could; no Vermaelen or fit RVP, but whatever, this is almost as good as it gets. Cesc, Nasri, Wilshere, Walcott, Chamakh, Song. We should be scoring. And at home, we must be winning with that lineup. MUST. OK, rant over. Now, a few thoughts:

(1) Fernando Torres took two enormous bites of the mango this weekend. And with cool, slightly sticky mango juice spilling down his handsome chin, he lit a fire under Liverpool. For the first half, they looked like the squad their teamsheet has always threatened to be - killing themselves for every ball in midfield, working hard, defending as a unit, smothering Chelsea, and letting El Nino do his thing up front. That was so much fun to watch. It certainly made the poop sandwich (with a side of Andy Carroll and Joey Barton) I had just swallowed a half hour before that much easier to digest. In the second half, Chelsea had an Arsenal kind of day, lots of possession, lots of dallying, and then, when they finally got the ball into dangerous positions, they wasted their chances or were thwarted by excellent goalkeeping. I felt their pain.

(2) Roma won what might be the most intense, ill-tempered derby in football right now against league-leaders Lazio. (Frankly, I'd be too terrified to attend one of these matches.) You know Francesco Totti is nearing the end when I'm slightly relieved to see him not on the teamsheet. Also, I'm sorry to say it, but Muslera really should do better with Boriello's miserable excuse for a penalty. Good thing they had Vucinic take the second one. Who, by the way, has the angriest, most bizarre, goal celebrations around right now. He's the best.

(3) This brings me to my next point: the Serie A is bonkers. With all the focus on the EPL and La Liga, it's easy to forget that an Italian club won the CL last year. If I'm a club in the Champions League, I want no part of Inter, Roma, or Milan this year. All three clubs, while flawed, are completely unpredictable, and I could easily see one of them going to the final this year. Don't look now, but they're all on track to make the knockouts...

(4) La Liga wants no part of the (relative) parity taking hold of the EPL, Serie A, or Bundesliga (actual parity, there). But that's OK, because Mourinho vs. Barca is good fun. Juan predicted that the title returns to Madrid this year, and frankly, it's hard to argue with him. In fact, I think I'll go one better: Mourinho wins the treble with Madrid, and then leaves within the next two years to replace Fergie at Man United. It's happening.

(5) Speaking of which... Ji-Sung Park? Surely United cannot keep this up. If they somehow stay competitive for the title, then Fergie has definitely refinanced the third mortgage on his soul.

Until next time, gents.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Fernando Llorente Saves Awkwardly Unlikable Spain

Iker Casillas’ girlfriend was the trigger. Oh you remember her. She reports for channel 5 and I’m not trying to hate, but she needed to retire after that moment.

No, there she was in Scotland, with those impossibly green eyes, reporting that Vincente Del Bosque was cold sitting in the stands. I suppose it’s a fair observation; Del Forest and his entire staff were violently shivering. This Spanish squad was so unlikable all of a sudden.

Perhaps it was the work rate of the Scots, Mr. Miller especially. Or maybe it was the counter-attacks sprung by beautiful long passes, as opposed to lucky hoove-ings. Those blue uniforms sure were pleasant in HD as well. Now, normally rooting for any team with Darren Fletcher on it would give me an ulcer so let me be clear, I was not rooting for Scotland. I simply found myself annoyed with Spain.

Spain used to be plucky and cursed - the blueprint for beautiful soccer. Tonight they were uninspiring. Sergio Busquets looked so bored that at one point I watched him jog in circles for 45 seconds straight. Santi Cazorla is not very good at soccer. And I still don’t understand how Capdevilla starts for this team every single game. I swear, every time some team scores on Spain, I can’t find him in the picture, though he’s not at fault either. Iniesta showed some effort I guess, and so did Villa, though neither of them seemed particularly fired up about anything. The team looked complacent.

I can’t blame them for being complacent, not when every beer commercial “salutes the winners of the World Cup!” and the announcers gush over a simple give-and-go from the world champs. And what’s with those World Cup patches on the Barcelona uniforms? I think the issue is that before, since they had no success, you couldn’t accuse them of going through the motions. Though that seemed exactly like what they did in Scotland tonight.

The first half saw a few typical half chances by Spain, generated by X.Alonso and Iniesta. But it was the Scots on the counter that gave the match some energy. On Scotlands most clear chance of the first half – a 2 on 2 break set off by a stunning, arcing pass to Miller – the announcers cried, “This is what we feared, what with 10 of them behind half.” I bet the booth didn’t realize the Scots could put a nice fade on that long-ball like that though. Well, Pique at least didn’t.

On the aforementioned break, Miller ends up doffing the pass and grabs his face in horror as the ball deflects out of bounds. A few minutes later, a very harsh handball awards Spain a penalty just before half. The keeper gets his hand on it, but Villa still scores. He passes (or ties) Raul for the all-time Spanish scorer record but you wouldn’t know from his expression because he barely celebrates it.

So here we are; a harsh penalty, Iker Casillas’ girlfriend, and a boring Spanish squad looking like they just need to show up these days to get a W. Surely Scotland wouldn’t let them get away with this, right?

The second half begins and the Spaniards look like they have a bit more pep in their strides. David Silva, who so far is on track for fraud status, redeems himself with a few menacing shots. Before you know it, Iniesta collects a fortuitous deflection inside the box and coolly slots it home, 2-nil to the best World Cup winners on earth. We haven’t reached the hour mark yet and the bartender, who asked me, “Who are we playing tonight?… Scotland… are you sure? Really? Scotland?… well, 3-nil at a minimum am I right hahahaha” is looking so fucking hahahaha right.

Oh wait! Scotland responds! The energizer bunny, Miller, finds his teammate with a lovely cross. Ramos doesn’t track back; you signed up for that though; and Pique doesn’t look over his shoulder. By the time Pique turns and sees the flying header, his facial expression is that of finding your own unflushed poop in the toilet bowl. 2 to 1, the home team is back in it. No matter who you root for, it’s nice to see the home crowd leave with something; those poor white faces were freezing!

Oh my goodness, Pique with an own-goal! You can’t even blame him either, that cross was going in the back of the net one way or another. I glance at the bartender and pretend to be upset. He looks genuinely concerned. Just like that is 2-2!

Well, you know how this story ends. The alarmingly handsome Fernando Llorente comes on for the awful Santi Cazorla, and everyone in the world knows he’s going to score. Llorente wins every header from a goal-kick that has ever come his way. He gets himself in position better than a center-fielder does a pop-fly. His footwork is amazing, period, not just for someone his size. Most importantly, he still has that hunger. If you haven’t heard of him, he’s the guy who was substituted on in front of Cesc Fabregas consistently during the World Cup. He plays for Athletico Bilbao… for now. And it’s Mr. Llorente who reads a cross perfectly, and volleys it past the keeper. He has yet to break a sweat and it’s his third goal for Spain in two games.

Ho-hum, another victory for Spain; I wonder what the headlines will read.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Musings on Spanish Football and Bojan Krkic

There is no player right now in Spanish football in a bigger slump than Bojan Krkic. Bojan’s slump reached its trough tonight, somewhere in Croatia, for the U-21 Spanish squad. Let me begin by clarifying that Bojan is a Spanish national; he does not play for some eastern European country like his last name might indicate. I was quite surprised to find this out, but I digress. Do you remember last year when Nicklaus Bendtner missed twelve gilt-edged scoring chances in one Champions League match at the Emirates, and when he was finally substituted the crowd gave him a standing ovation? That happened tonight for Bojan. After an hour of heavy touches, stray passes and shots that might endanger a spectator unprepared to ever see a match-ball flying at them, Bojan reached his low. The play is a deft give-and-go near the 8-yard box, Mata shot low and to the corner only to have it blocked by Bojan on the goal line. The ball hit off his heel, deflected off the goalie, and somehow it came back to his feet as he fell down. He poked it in from his back, an ugly goal at best, but was whistled for offsides. If he weren’t in such horrible form, he might have had a laugh about it. Three minutes later he walked off the field, pulling at his hair and staring blankly at the ground. One of his teammates ran 30 yards to hug him and whisper something in his ear before he was substituted.

This all started a few weeks ago in the stands at the Camp Nou. Barcelona was on a romp in the second half of a Champions League tie against Panathinaikos and Pep signaled to Bojan to get loose. Some of the crowd in my section noticed him warming up and started a chant, “Queremos la marica! Queremos la marica!” That means, “We want the gay kid! Put in the gay kid!” This surprised me because it’s unusual for any citizen to criticize Barcelona FC. A video could surface that showed Leonel Messi setting fire to kittens and the Catalunian papers would claim the kittens were spreading the plague, so naturally, Messi had done the right thing. Pep Guardiola has a book, people buy this book; again, I was a bit surprised that Bojan was heckled by the home crowd. But why were they on edge?

This has many roots, one even stems back to Zlatan Ibrahimovic and his struggles last year, but the main cause for tension was the Hercules – Barcelona game. Barcelona opened their home campaign against wet-behind-the-ears Hercules, and lost 2-nil. They lost one La Liga game all of last year. And this was a flattering 2-nil loss; Hercules having missed a sitter and Trezeguet hit the bar. For reasons I don’t understand yet, it is a special kind of insult to bring up losses to a team that has spent time in the 2nd division. The old, surly, drunk men at the bar that accused me of being a Merengue (“Eres Merengue!” they would say in their scratchy voices, decaying from emphysema) had memorized all the ties or losses that Real Madrid suffered to newly promoted teams in the past few years. They listed them off as if reading some secret document at a court hearing. All of this is to show that the Hercules loss was not just an unexpected thorn in their side, but rather a permanent scar that is no longer spoken about. And it was that game that reopened the small nagging wound Barcelona FC fans have chosen to ignore the past two seasons; they don’t have enough finishers.

Keita has not panned out, Ibrahimovic was practically a bust, not to mention trouble in the locker room, and Bojan has not developed as fast as some would like. Yes, they have David Villa, with his dreamy dark eyes and neat haircut, and yes, they have Leo Messi, with his witchcraft and sorcery. But when Villa got a red-card, and Messi nearly had his ankle snapped in two, guess what happened? The next game domestic game, Barcelona dropped points, again. The game before that, in Russia, they drew zero-zero. The papers the next day read, “Ruin Kazan”. Awkwardly, the passes that Xavi and Iniesta complete per game by the fifties, produced no end product. Four points gone and Barcelona isn’t even seven games through La Liga. Let me repeat; they lost one game last year and won the league by three points. One!

Obviously, that game Bojan missed a sitter (he was subbed off at half!) and Keita was/is/may always be abject. Even Dani Alves might be in a mini-slump as he too has missed open nets. Pedro, another untouchable, who has been bailed out with a groin injury, causes some grumbles here and there. And just as an aside, since this is a delight to report but has nothing to do with their finishing woes, Javier Mascherano fits into that team like Ron Jeremy does in a porno. It’s a smart crowd here in Barcelona, and I think they are starting to realize.

Now that Cristiano Ronaldo appears to be out of his funk, and Real Madrid survived it and leads them in the table, Pep’s 5 o’clock shadow grows in a little grayer. There is a feeling around city that Barcelona may not be the treble winning team they once were. When you’ve spoiled your fans as much as Barcelona has, there are surely going to be some moans with any sign of decline. But this is different. The domestic league means more here in Spain than the Champions League – or at least a lot more than it does in England. I hear all the time EPL players and their dream of winning the Champs League, but not here, at least not yet.

The key is that Real Madrid has emerged from their dark ages with their German midfielders and their Portuguese manager. This is to the horror of Barcelona fans. They won’t admit it, but Real Madrid actually scares them this year, unlike previous few years. And they should. I think Real Madrid wins La Liga this season. Just don’t tell anyone I said that.