So another misfiring day at the office, and let’s get the stats out the way now: one goal in four league games, one point from twelve. The only blessings yesterday were that we didn’t lose and Bolton didn’t win.
Bolton! How far the mighty have fallen that a) they are breathing down our necks and b) we are all worried about it.
It’s the reality, innit though. Arsenal’s season petered out the moment PSV knocked us out the league, and it’s been painful to watch.
I watched yesterday’s 0-0 draw on Malaysian TV, not because I’m in Malaysia (chance would be a fine thing), but because there was no way I was forking out Â£8 for it when I could get it on ‘tinternet for free. I was wise.
There’s not much to say in its favour. Gilberto came closest with a goal-line clearance in the last ten minutes, but otherwise, we didn’t create enough to feel aggrieved with the scoreline (unlike Saturday, which was CSKA Moscow all over again).
Whether we make fourth or not, we can pretty much write the end of term report now. Plenty of pretty and technically impressive approach work, but too seldom an end result. We have played too narrow all season, because none of our wingers (with the exception of the injured Walcott) crosses in from wide enough. We come inside too often, bunch ourselves up at the edge of the box, then either try to pass through the eye of a needle or sideways. We are a confidence team; brilliant when up, average when down. We’ve not scored enough goals from midfield, and our two goal machines have been injured too often. And we’ve let more silly goals in than I can shake a stick at.
Onto Saturday and it’s quite simple: win and we put some comfort between ourselves and fifth. Lose and we are properly in the merde.