And so it begins

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The curtain is raised on the 2024 US tour, and indeed pre-season proper. I am not counting the behind-closed-doors friendly against Leyton Orient if that’s alright with you. If something is behind closed doors it basically never happened. Sorry Emile and Gabriel but that’s just facts.

Frankly, the Bournemouth show-starter might as well not have happened either, given it started at 3.30am here. It was less behind closed doors and more beneath warm duvet. With the best will in the world (which I do not possess, my will is distinctly middling to sub-par) I was not going to arise from my slumber at that time.

We won it on penalties after a 1-1 draw, and if you want some proper intel on that you’ll get it somewhere more professional than here. 

My admiration for anyone who does follow Arsenal from afar is enormous, though. I went to Australia for a couple of weeks earlier this month (long way, would recommend) and my almost impeccable hoovering up of Euro 2024 immediately fizzled out. 2am and 5am kick-offs are not conducive to anything. I happened to be awake at 430am for the England v Switzerland penalties, then went back to sleep. I woke up for the second half of the semi-final at 6am, which was just about acceptable. I watched the final in the actual air, many miles over the Indian Ocean, which is a form of wizardry I cannot begin to fathom. Not that it was magic enough to conjure up an England victory. 

But if I moved to somewhere that was 9 hours ahead, or 8 hours behind, would I honestly keep following the games live? I don’t think I would and from the conversations I had with various Gooners whilst out there, the Premier League is best consumed on a Sunday morning as highlights. So hats off to all of you who are mad enough to get up in the dead of night or the crack of dawn to follow the mighty Arsenal. You are all better people than me.

Green for Rowe and Calafiori dreaming

The investment we made in the squad last summer – £200m give or take, with only about £40m in sales – was never sustainable or repeatable, at least not with regularity. So this summer always felt like one where investment would come on the proviso that we made more sales. (As James said on the Arsecast, it feels like we are operating using the nightclub technique – one in, one out…)

So to buy Calafiori it is logical that we will need to sell Smith Rowe, Nketiah, Nelson and other ‘pure profit’ Halenders. Similarly I expect others to go between now and the end of the window to help balance the books with any other incoming players. Given how little all 3 have played, it’s no surprise they are being sold. Perhaps there will be room for regret for Smith Rowe, as we have rarely seen the best of him. But he needs to play, and we need to generate money, so it works for all parties.

As for Calafiori, I am fascinated to see where he will fit in. A rising tide lifts all boats, sure. But I cannot see him displacing Saliba or Gabriel, and if he does play left-back what does that mean for Tomiyasu, Zinchenko and Kiwior. (Kiwior feels like the obvious casualty here).

I am also fascinated to see how he does, as we’ve never really had a big-name Italian at Arsenal. I know we have Jorginho, but he was born and spent his formative years in Brazil. And, unlike the Spanish, Germans, French and many other Europeans, Italian players have never come to the Premier League in huge numbers or with unqualified success. I have no idea why this might be. Zola, Di Canio are the obvious stand-out ones. But the list is not huge. So I am excited and intrigued to see where he fits in and how he settles in.

Exciting times though. My son has a Premier League countdown on the homepage of his iPhone and he tells me we are 22 days away from the league opener.

It’s like it never went away. Forza!

Jim

Arsenal since about 1979. Thick, thin and all that.

This Post Has 2 Comments

  1. West Lower

    Great work, East. Sad to see some of these players go, but this year pretty much requires complete perfection to finally topple 115 outstanding changes.

    I’m in Los Angeles 30 years now after growing up in North London, so my whole circadian body rhythm is watching Arsenal in pajamas mostly before dawn. I have to scream into the cushion to avoid waking the rest of the house, which for the true fan is basically a lost cause. Here’s a few highlights from my screaming banjee Celebration Police charge sheet:
    “Now Saka in towards the far post… It’s Havertz! The German makes the difference!”
    “Saka… The crowd is hushed… IT’S DECLAN RICE! [Smash. Bang. Runs out into the street screaming.] ARSENAL HAVE WON IT AND IT’S BEDLAM AT THE EMIRATES!”
    “Here goes the corner… Only as far as Nelson, who has to get his shot right… OH YES! UN-BE-LIEVABLE! HEARTBREAK FOR BOURNEMOUTH. GLORIOUS FOR ARSENAL!!” [Pounds wall. Rips off shirt. Throws cushion into the air shouting, “Get in you bastard!”]

    Back in my season ticket days (I was there when Jensen scored!), I used to love the whole morning build-up to a Saturday afternoon game. Coffee to start and read all the papers, then a bit of Saint and Greavsie, then grab the Tube and head to the Arsenal Cafe (full English, fried slice, mugs of tea with a tannic oil slick on top that would be cited as an environmental hazard today), all topped off with a last pre-match Silk Cut or three, before steadying the nerves as I join the gathering crowd on the walk back to Highbury Hill.

    Now I have a mixed berry bowl and my kids accuse me of using my “fake English accent” when I shout things like, “Leave a leg in, for fuck’s sake”, “Dirty Spud bastard, how could you fucking miss that?!” and “Mike Dean, you miserable bald c-nt” and so on.

    I do get see the odd Emirates game when I’m back in London. The night games feel very strange I have to admit. But there’s no changing the absolute mind-melting transcendent joy of a last-gasp Gunners win. I started with Malcolm Macdonald’s last-minute header in ’78 in front of the North Bank against Wolves in the FA Cup and can’t wait for the one that wins us the League this year…

    COYG

    1. Jim

      Haha, well played! I love the bit about the ‘fake English accent too…’ I bet you react well to that…

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