Of Chants, Voodoo, and Curses

Arsene Wenger, at some point in his career at Arsenal, made a deal with the devil. Maybe it was at the 2005 FA Cup Final, maybe the 2006 Champions League final. If it was the latter, however, it didn’t turn out well for us at all. We are so out of favor with the Fortune Gods, it is unbelievable. If losing the match on Sunday wasn’t bad enough, we lost Bacary Sagna for at least three months with a broken fibula. Of course, when our medical team say three months, they really mean he’ll be racing Wilshere for a come back. Ok, maybe not, but you get the point.

I feel happy for Wilshere though – he’s just had a baby, and at least will get time to spend with his little boy. All I hope is that he returns to doing what he does best – no, not unprotected sex – before Archie Wilshere joins the Arsenal academy.

Well, enough dilly dallying – straight to the game now. We were being written off before it even started, with Spurs the favorites to win for the first time in a long, long time. The other talked about point was how we would deal with Adebayor. By we, I mean both the players, and the fans. While the former did their best in keeping him relatively quiet on the pitch, the latter were, quite honestly, disgusting in their attempts to bring the man down. More on that later.

There are so many issues with the club and the team to be addressed that a small, concise summary of the game will have to suffice for the moment. We dominated possession early on and dictated play, although were unbelievably sloppy in possession at times, and made a habit of giving the ball away in dangerous areas. Our defense was stretched quite often (surprise, surprise), but we were saved more than once by the brilliance of Wojciech Szczesny. That guy has been massive for us throughout the disaster that is this season. However, he could do nothing against our defense, which was intent on conceding a goal.

They did. It was Adebayor’s flighted through ball that found Voo doo Vaart, who used his shoulder/arm to bring the ball down and then struck the ball sweetly across goal to finish. Of course, the handball wasn’t given. To be frank, it was difficult for the ref to spot, although it escapes me what the assistant was doing at this point. Maybe he was busy looking up the complicated FIFA rulebook, wondering whether he was within his rights to call the foul, and whether technically it was handball in the first place.

Voo doo Vaart then celebrated with the fans, something that would technically earn him a yellow. At this point he was on one already, and a second would have led to him being sent off. So the goal technically resulted from a handball, and Rafael technically should have been sent off. But whoever in the world cares about technicalities, right? Yes, I concede the rule about the celebration is a stupid one, but it is all the same a rule, and Spurs were very lucky not to be down to ten men.

Half time was just five minutes away and boy did we need it! Arsene probably talked to the boys a little bit, and hopefully swore at them too. Well, at least when they came back onto the pitch, they seemed to have the words of the manager ringing in their ears, as Andy Gray used to say on FIFA.

We started the second half brightly, and within five minutes were ahead. It was a beautifully worked goal, with Song driving down the left hand side and putting in the low cross that was converted by Ramsey at the near post. We were feeling it now, and started attacking in waves. At the other end, Szczesny was dealing with the counters all by himself, with Mertesacker in a world of his own, and Song too busy fantasizing about being the hero once more.

Meanwhile, we lost Bacary Sagna. He fell on his ankle, and was quite visibly in pain as he asked immediately to be stretchered out. The immensely experienced Carl Jenkinson – a man who is feared by all wingers across the football-playing world, replaced him.

Slowly, however, we started reverting to our first half selves. We had rediscovered our identity of this season – sloppy, un-creative, and unfocused. The goal, however, was a screamer. Kyle Walker, who according to one of the Sky Sports commentators is better than Sagna, found himself in acres of space, and let fly a rocket. Szczesny wasn’t expecting it, and failed to palm it away. Tottnum were ahead, and the world started collapsing around me.

The game after that is a blur to me. We lacked the penetration to get another goal. Our defense was still just about holding out. It wasn’t pleasant. The final whistle blew soon enough. That was that. We had lost the North London Derby. Again.

Looking at it objectively and in isolation, this game wasn’t the worst performance of this season. We were at the lowest we have been as a team for the last 15 or so years, and Spurs were the best they have been maybe ever (or at least for the last 50 years), and yet it took a wonder goal to get the better of us. This loss basically opened the floodgates for all that pent up frustration in every Gooner’s heart.

The normally classy away fans too were at an all time low, abusing Adebayor and singing about how he should have been shot dead in that bus in Angola. Horrible. Didn’t imagine we had it in us to stoop to such levels, but there. We did it. On the other side, the Spurs continued with their traditional “Wenger is a pedophile” chants. I just cannot get over the fact that they, along with fans from other clubs, have been singing this for years on end and have never once been singled out. It is disgusting, let alone demeaning, insulting and disrespectful of a person who has done so much for the game. Hell, it would be all those even if he were a worthless nobody. To think that that particular chant was covered, albeit mostly as an aside, after all these years is also shameful.

I condemn both sets of fans, although it must be said that the Wenger chants have been going on forever, and it is high time they spark an outrage in the press. The focus is still on the Adebayor chants, which I maintain were horrible.

There is also the claim that Sagna was spit on and abused verbally by the Spurs fans as he lay in pain on the ground, his leg broken. If that’s true, it’s sickening. How can anyone be depraved enough to do that? The whole game was a failure in terms of sportsmanship.

Wenger was also singled out for not shaking hands with some random guy in the Spur’s backroom staff. Get over yourselves. He shook ’Arry’s hand, and that’s all that matters. Also, I’ve heard that particular coach has been pretty annoying generally, and really, it is entirely up to Wenger who he wants to be amiable with. In the grand scheme of things though, that’s merely a footnote.

We found out the next day that Sagna, our best defender at the moment, had indeed fractured his fibula and would be out for the next three months. Just yesterday, Szczesny pulled out of international duty with a back problem, although that’s supposed to be purely precautionary. With our injury record, however, you just can’t be sure.

The loss on Sunday means the fan base morale is in the dumps. The club needs to invest in the team – that much is crystal clear. In the meantime, things have to change even off the field. Stan Kroenke declared himself to be president of the Arsene Wenger fan club in his recent interview, and told Le Prof that he had “a job for life”. That is disappointing on two levels – one, Wenger is the supreme authority now at the club, and two, Kroenke is really here to stay. 

Something needs to be done. Fast. We are running out of time, and international breaks won’t save us every time we are in trouble. We just cannot function as a team – either our attack is toothless, or our defense is in shambles, or our midfield is in disarray. There is always something that is off. Szczesny has saved us so many points this season, and even then we only have 7 points. In 7 games.

Does anyone honestly believe van Persie will sign a contract extension if this continues? Ninety thousand a week for someone of his quality is peanuts, and any top club would easily and willingly double that. Jens Lehman said in an interview with Lady Arse that our captain was probably going to leave in the summer. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

Again, the only way to solve this problem is to invest. That is the only way forward. However, with Kroenke at the helm, that does not look likely. We face the very real prospect of falling out of the top four. Hell, we might even finish below the Spuds. Unthinkable.

Try as I might, I just can’t get myself to think positively about our chances. Something needs to change, but right now I can’t see anything changing. It’s like we’re cursed. God only knows when we will see the light at the end of the tunnel, and whether we’ll see it at all this season or not.

Well, I shall now turn my attention to Nick Hornby’s “Fever Pitch” – maybe that will give me an idea of how to deal with an Arsenal team that’s forgotten how to win. ‘Till next time, people!