Gooner in exile, away fan and cook

Saturday 19 February 2011

Curry, Cakes and Catalans

Eighty quids worth of curry on the table. Kathy Neros turned up with a bag full of moody cakes destined for the bins and The Arsenal were ten minutes away from kick off against the best team in the world. Surrounded by Stella Artois, Gooners, a Tottenham-West Ham hybrid (he's confused, but strangely always welcome), his charming partner and the glamour of Simon Amstell Hair, we tucked into the food. But I wasn't hungry. I hadn't eaten since twelve. I mean - I was hungry, really hungry, but I wasn't. Understand?

'Prediction?'

'Three one, The Arsenal.'

A few nods, a few shakes of the head. Eyes fixed on the screen as the teams strolled out, chana masala dribbled down my chin, wiped back into my mouth with a damp piece of chapati. Classy, son. I was nervous. The sick feeling that had been welling up in my stomach since 7.25 am had overtaken my body, and it felt like it was on its way up. I washed it back down and stared at the screen.

Copenhagen and Paris. '94, '95, '00 and '06, been there, did it, and I was nervous, but nothing like this. I don't quite know why, but there you have it.

The first half flew by and I could hardly catch my breath. Barca swarmed all over us. Intricate passing patterns weaving in and out all over the pitch. Messi should have scored after 15 minutes, but I like to think the sheer oddness of Scrabble in goal put him off. A David Villa goal under him on 27 minutes was the difference at the break, but it could have been worse, Barca had a second goal wrongly disallowed for offside. Alex Song was booked early on, and frankly I was astonished he stayed on the pitch to last over an hour. RVP had two good chances, the first he shot straight at Valdes after a chip over the top from Cesc, and the second I thought he should have done much better with, skewing his shot well wide of the post on his favoured left foot.

Half time arrived and it was time to breath again.

Fuck. Here we go again.

We actually seemed resigned to the fact that we were going to be chasing shadows all evening, just happy to nick the ball when the chance was offered to us. But from the kick off in the second half, there was a greater energy about us. Outplayed in the first half as the ITV stats gleefully showed, but only a goal down, a single goal. Through the tipsy haze that had now descended, I can recall a few frightening moments, just. Eboue giving the ball away and Messi hitting the side netting when a pass seemed a better option being the one that sticks out, but we were still well in it.

Step forward Simon Amstell Hair for quote of the night -

'I'm bored now, I want Arsenal to score.'

Really? How odd, because so the fuck did I. Two minutes later, her wish was granted as Van Persie belted one in at the near post. Near post, yeah, leaving Valdes looking somewhat a plum, but still a quite brilliant and  accurate finish. One must say, had it been Almunia or Fabianski, he would have been slagged off by all and sundry, but not our Victor. Anticipating a pull-back, he took a step to his left, leaving a gap that RVP gladly filled.

Madness.

Five minutes later, Saucy Jack helped on a ball to Cesc who played a beautiful pass with the outside of his right foot to Samir Nasri marauding into space down the right. Holding it up, and with the chance seemingly gone, he waited. Then he waited a little bit more until the tiny Russian came sprinting into view. Nasri played the perfect curled pass to the onrushing Arshavin, who without breaking stride side-footed it into the net from a couple of yards inside the box.

Oh Dear God. Bedlam.




Excuse me for getting carried away here, but at the final whistle the result was Arsenal 2 Barcelona 1. Yes. I was confident before the game, but must admit that after half an hour I was fearing the worst. Listen, if it had been Man Utd that had just beaten them, they would have been queuing up to grovel and lick the feet of Lord Fucking RedNose himself, and God forbid if had been that little lot from up the road. We earned this result - not on balance when you look at the stats, but beacuse we refused to give up playing the football that we play. Teams have come to The Emirates and been totally outplayed yet have come away with the points and have received the plaudits. So let's have some of those over here, please. Very few teams are going to take the lions share of posession against Barcelona, that's a given, but even fewer are actually going to beat them. Make no mistake, this was a massive result for us - an incredible result against the best team that I've seen in my life.

The second leg awaits. Jack Wilshere showed on Wednesday as we suspected, that he's more than ready for anything this game can throw at him. At just nineteen he uses the ball intelligently, shows amazing maturity and was truly outstanding - the best player from either team on the pitch for me. Koscielny had a great game, reading runs and tackling intelligently, Nasri will be fitter and Sagna will be back. Pique will be suspended and fingers crossed Puyol loses his battle to be fit. The prick.

Brilliant, Arsenal. Just Brilliant.

A final thing. Let's not forget Rocky Rocastle. Tickets available here for 'Rocky Remembered' - a knees-up at The Rocket, Holloway Road on 2nd April. Riders of the Night and The Away Boyz perfoming. It would be rude not to, wouldn't it?



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