Dreams

It all started with a dream I suppose. Well, not exactly. To paint the entire picture, we must go back to Thursday night. That night, the night leading up to Friday, I did not sleep. One of the many side effects of procrastination is that one often ends up with an intimidating workload to be completed in a very short period of time – but I managed. I was in the groove and by the time the sun was rising, I was done with everything.

After I was finished with classes, my assignments all duly handed in by mid afternoon, I had two options – either to go to sleep, or stay awake. I decided to stick it up and finally sleep only at night so I could wake up in time for the match. For the record, I’m studying in the US, and since this was an early afternoon kick off, for me it meant waking up at 6.45 AM on a Saturday morning.

I was determined to make it, and somehow I managed to stay awake through the day. Then, I don’t know what happened. Somehow I just couldn’t go to sleep. It was terrible. Maybe there is a point before which you must go to sleep, and once you’re past it there is no hope for you. So it was that I went to sleep, like a typical college boy, at 3 AM.

And that was when I had the dream. The only thing I remember was Drogba scoring a few goals for Chelsea and continuing to haunt all Arsenal supporters. It was terrible. For some weird reason, my alarm went off right at the whistle and we had lost. When I took stock of where I was and the fact that the match hadn’t begun at all, I felt slightly relieved. Then came the realization that the Drog was not going to play, and I was even more relieved.

In this state of semi consciousness, I gathered enough strength to reach for my phone and see what was going on. I vaguely recall reading something that implied that Szczesny was making his customary miracle saves, and that our defense was all over the place. So for the next 45 minutes or so, I kept drifting in and out, periodically waking up from some terrible nightmare where we lost 4-3, 3-2, scraped by 2-2, and won 2-1, in what order I can’t remember.

I finally woke up as Walcott scored, courtesy of my recently recruited Gooner roommate. It was a beauty. The way he got himself up and weaved through two defenders, while leaving Cashley in his wake was magnificent. I haven’t quite been his biggest supporter, but if he continues to put them away like that, I’m fine with it.

Judging by the comments on Twitter and the commentary, I gathered that the defense on both sides had been dismal and the attack, ridiculous. I can’t recall when Chelsea had last been 3-2 down with half an hour to go.

Like most people, I could see that this was not over. We were defending with heart, although technically we seemed pretty poor at the back. At the time, however, all I cared about was Chelsea not getting another goal. Somewhere around the 75^th minute I was involuntarily shivering, and no, it was not due to the cold (at least not entirely).

Let me make this clear. I was expecting nothing from this game. I was mentally prepared for us going down at the Bridge, but now that we were leading, the finish line almost visible on the horizon, I had genuine hope of winning it. Typical Arsenal, isn’t it? At that moment, I would have liked nothing more than for someone to turn the TV off, but I sat glued to it. There is something about football that turns us into obsessive people – where we have no control over ourselves. I was screaming at every decision given against us (the ref was as poor as some of the defending), and praying for another goal to make it a two goal lead.

It was only when I was assured of the result and watched and re-watched the highlights that I appreciated the technical details of our play – the swift, slick passing, playing almost on the counter, exploiting Chelsea’s high line, etc etc (much like we did against Barcelona at home). All that didn’t matter then. To be honest, little else in life mattered at that point, apart from eleven players winning a football match. The comforting thought was that I was not alone at all in bordering on the unstable when Arsenal played. There were thousands of people who cared as much, if not more. Somehow that gives it all a special meaning, as though it matters, as though an Arsenal win would make the world a better place.

The goal did come, but it was Chelsea who scored. Of course. And it was Juan Mata who had hit a screamer right into the top left corner. I had my head in my hands, saying to anyone who would listen (and I have a feeling even our neighbours did) that we had bottled it.

Five minutes later though, an incredible tumble from John Terry let van Persie through, who was never going to miss given the kind of form he is in. He Cech-mated the goalkeeper (not the best play on words, I know), and slid the ball into an empty net.

Chelsea were now committing everyone to attack. I had my heart in my mouth when the ball fell almost perfectly for Juan Mata to volley in twice, once with nobody in goal. Two excellent blocks ensured that we survived. Koscielny, who is fast developing into a great defender, was having a brilliant game once more.

Deep into injury time, we scored again while on the counter attack, and throughout the move I was screaming at the team to slow the game down and play keep ball. But when van Persie blasted a left footed shot past Cech to complete his hat-trick, I was screaming once more, rejoicing in the fact that we were almost assured of the three points.

So that was that. We had won, and what a win this was. I won’t say I never dreamed of the result, for I did, quite literally. This, however, felt like another one. A 3-5 result at Stamford Bridge never happens, right?

van Persie had been phenomenal, and Ramsey and Koscielny had played some of the best football they ever had in an Arsenal shirt. What made it more special was that we deserved the victory. There was that feeling of finally having proved ourselves to the world, to all the doubters out there. If a 3-5 win at Chelsea isn’t proof that we’re back, I don’t know what is.

Above all though, it reminded me of how much I love the club. It was clear that every player on that pitch in the red and white loved the club. They knew what the victory meant; they knew what it meant to play for Arsenal Football Club. The players going to the away supporters and saluting them after the game was over proved that.

This is why we do it everyday, isn’t it? This is why we are willing to go through those final 20 minutes of intense nail biting and shivering and praying. It is matches like this one, like the one against Barcelona, when we see the glory of this great club on full display.

It was a magical match that finished in our favor, and for a little while at least, the world is indeed the better for it.

Acceptance

Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance

These are the five stages of death. Regardless of ywhat religion, race or country you are from, these are generally the stages one goes through when faced with death. Surprisingly enough, these very stages have typified the mood among Arsenal fans throughout summer.

We approach now what is perhaps the most defining week in the Wenger era. We find ourselves faced with so many questions - questions that must be answered after the 0-2 loss against Liverpool. Before I get into the game, I have a confession to make = I could not watch the game, although I did catch the MOTD highlights. The rest of my knowledge is a result of compulsively checking for Twitter updates every 10 seconds.

The big, big news before the match was that Samir Nasri was going to start. There was just one change to my line-up, which had been predicted before team news, and that makes me proud!

We defended brilliantly and played our hearts out, that much is clear and undebatable. The atmosphere in the stadium, amid the intense showers, was something else, I'm told. Then the inevitable happened. We lost Koscielny to back spasms. That makes it three out of three games we have had to make a forced substitution. Our confidence took a hit, and Liverpool started dominating possession. We did not give up. Miquel was assured, Frimpong and Vermalean immense. Theo and Arshavin were having an off day. Now considering the fact that we have 10 players playing on the wings at any given time, losing our two real ones to an “off day” dented our already dismal creativity.

It must be said that Nasri played his part in the chances we DID manage to create, a mazy run the pick of the lot. We found out what we were letting go off. Still, he is no Fabregas. The fans played their part too, and he was largely cheered on. Not sure I would have been able to do the same though! Ramsey, Nasri’s creative partner in central midfielder, was having a poor game himself, and did little to help Samir out.

For me, the turning points, not in the match, but in my thinking, were the 8th minute Frimpong yellow, and the Koscielny injury (Squillaci’s absence on the bench was very telling too). Those, to me, exemplify the problem at Arsenal. We have a brilliant player in Frimpong, but one who is obviously inexperienced. He was making his League debut against a team like Liverpool! And of course, our players are falling to injuries like toothpicks. Surely there is something wrong with the way we train? We have world class facilities, and the satellite tracking system introduced this season in training was supposed to help prevent injuries – whatever happened to that!

Looking at our line-up, who really gave us a chance? Yes, Frimpong was lion hearted in his efforts, and Miquel played the best he could, but the attack was nothing short of toothless, and there can be no excuses there.

In The Dumps

It is safe to say that Arsenal FC is in a state of some turmoil – not just within, but also outside, with the fans divided into distinct groups. If some fans aren’t yet in a state of panic, they are constantly at odds with others who are. The state of the club, the role of the manager, of the board, of the players themselves, is being questioned. No one truly knows what is going on, and there is confusion all around. The media is blamed for being against the club; the media is blamed for being biased towards the club. We have all possible permutations and combinations about our future being argued for or against.

Nothing escapes the vast reaches of the Internet. Hundreds of thousands of fans indulge in a discussion of one kind or another every day, be it through Facebook, or Twitter, or other great blogs. Needless to say, these discussions often get heated up, as fans of opposing views collide and each gets his support going. It’s straight up war out there!

These fans, it seems, are divided into a few sects. There is one that thinks the club must be defended at all costs, and this means the manager, the board and the players. There is one asking for the removal of the manager, one for the removal of the board. One is begging players like Nasri to stay at the club, another doesn’t want to see him put on the famous red and white again. Opinions on Cesc Fabregas are divided as well: some feel he should never have been sold, others that the timing of the sale wasn’t right, and some just worry that the money will never be reinvested. (Strangely, everyone seems to agree Denilson, Squillaci and Almunia are crap. Hmmmmm.).

Such a divided fan base cannot be a good thing for the club. It proves, as people have noticed, that the club’s PR base is very poor – there is no clear communication with the fans. The club has been accused of lying to the supporters and hiding facts.
Fans, in that situation, are bound to be confused, especially with the influx of information through the Internet. So the question for the exasperated fan is how he deals with this information (or misinformation) from and about the club. What constitutes a “real” fan?

This is a question that keeps popping up everywhere. It has been used as an argument in countless debates – a “real fan” would never say this, or oppose that. So how is one supposed to react when one hears, say, a rumor linking the club to a star player like Karim Benzema, or an unknown one like Joel Campbell (now a player at the club)? The trouble is two fold – one, there is often little truth these days to transfer rumors, or at least the extent to which they are hyped. Two, there is no “correct” way to react. The club’s need on the pitch, one must agree, must be left to the manager and board to analyze – they are infinitely more knowledgeable about the inner workings of the game and the transfer market. All we can argue about is whether they are actually making an effort to improve the squad on the pitch. It is hard to believe that someone as shrewd as Wenger does not know that our defense needs strengthening, and that Cesc and Nasri have to be replaced soon.

In that situation, it is indeed testing for the fans when all summer, the only real activity has been the addition of three kids and a speedy winger, while the club’s most influential, gifted player has left along with a few others, and another few are on their way out. The “We have got no players left, We have got no players left” chant is gaining a creepy, realistic aura.

According to Le Grove, an excellent blog about everything Arsenal, we have been outspent by every club in the Premier League since the league’s inception. The likes of Hull City and QPR have spent more (net) than we have. Looking at it neutrally, this brings our success in the Wenger era into startling perspective. It is nothing short of a miracle to continuously finish in the top four of the most competitive football league in the world with that kind of spending (or non-spending).