By Celine Dion
February 13 2011
As I was drinking my first post match pint Boris Mellor texted me and asked me to write this report in the capacity of guest match day writer. I gladly agreed, and then I drank several more pints, ate fifteen pounds worth of MacDonalds and fell asleep in the train, waking up in the sleepy Essex town of Hockley. It is with a sore head and an empty wallet that I therefore bring you these words.
So there were probably other things I should have been doing but I couldn’t resist a last minute ticket off the exchange and a quick fix of bread and butter premier league Saturday afternoon football. Barcelona, you can keep as far as I am concerned, this is where the players earn their money. It was pleasing that Wenger took the same view, breaking his habits of the last few seasons and playing a full strength team.
I arrived in good time to purchase £4.50s worth of luke-warm chicken strips and catch Wayne Rooney’s gravity defying winner for Man United, and I think it is fair to say the crowd were in sombre mood as they headed for the seats.
The players did their best to liven things up by taking pot shots at the fans. I have not been in the North lower before, so for all I know this is a regular party-piece. Firstly a young chap of about ten was sitting peacefully in his seat munching a Mr Kipling cake, when a stray shot hit him square in the face. I didn’t see who the player was, but credit to the stewards who escorted him and his Dad out to the back, presumably for a quick check up. Thankfully he then returned to his seat. I was the next victim, as I stood waiting for the game Alex Song hit me squarely in the testicles with a vicious pile driver.
The other thing about the North Bank, I thought cheerfully to myself waiting for the swelling to go down, was that the team would be shooting at us in the second half. As a resident of the clock end, one of the common drawbacks is that most of Arsenal’s stirring second half comebacks and game clinchers take place in the far distance. Anyway, turns out the referee and the Wolves captain both knew where I was sitting and made sure my excitement was short lived.
We didn’t have long to wait for a goal mind you, Wolves turned up but only in the loosest sense of the word. Their game plan seemed to involve a combination of niggling fouls and handily passing the ball to our players. Theo and Arshavin were causing them all kinds of problems and the crowd were purring about Jack Wilshere who was certainly pulling the strings in midfield.
Jack nearly broke through with a mazy dribble, only to be denied by the ref calling the game back. But it was Robin Van Persie with a classy volley from Cescs’ chip that broke the deadlock. To say Robin is on a hot streak would be something of an understatement. Nevertheless the rest of the team certainly didn’t have their goal scoring boots on.
The game rumbled on without Wolves causing us any problems whatsoever, and we were creating a decent chance every five minutes or so, and not taking it. Most of the crowd were going mental at the referee, a grey haired fellow whose name escapes me. He certainly didn’t seem to have bought his yellow card with him, but I would rather that than a card happy ref. I don’t think there was any nastiness in the Wolves tackling, we were too quick for them.
Djourou Koscielny and Song made sure that Wolves couldn’t get a foothold in the game and kept the pressure building from the back, and the second half carried on exactly as the first had ended, with Theo making a horrible hash of a three yard tap in. He then redeemed himself by going through like his boots had caught fire and setting up that man again RVP. There was a horrible moment when I thought RVP was going to pass it BACK to Theo but thankfully he planted the ball into the net with a smart finish.
At 2-0 the game was over there and then. Wolves came into it a bit and gave Chesney some catching practise but there really wasn’t much danger. Wenger did things the proper way round and bought on the weaker players including the invisible man Marouane Chamakh. I think if you were to pop round to Marouane’s house you might find a picture of RVP pinned to his dart board. It was interesting that Theo stayed on. Theo’s presence on the pitch clearly inhibits teams attacking us in full numbers, even when they are losing. Its’ not necessarily what he does but what he MIGHT do.
I have heard much talk about how good the atmosphere is in the North bank, but I can only assume they were having an off day. The Upper Tier seemed to make the most noise, and around me were perfectly pleasant mothers and fathers girls and boys, but not the rabble rousing Arsenal maniacs I had been led to expect. I feel sure I heard the rustling of Mr Kipling wrappers. One plus was we got to stand under a big flag as it went round the ground. It was exciting under the flag, just like a big tent, and I was sorry when it moved on.
Anyway, I had places to be so I make no apology for the fact that I left a few minutes early. A good, strong team performance and not much to complain about except, perhaps, some wayward finishing.
Quote:Firstly a young chap of about ten was sitting peacefully in his seat munching a Mr Kipling cake, when a stray shot hit him square in the face.
B*stard, with the usual Mr Kipling slur
